Four Guys and a GM Play: No Response From Deepmar

Game Master Quirel

Bells ring three times across Kintargo, heralding six o’clock and the end of the curfew. The city awakes sharply, as it has every morning in the two months since the House of Thrune put Kintargo under martial law. The streets, deserted by all but the Dottari patrols a few minutes before, are choked with merchants bound for the markets and sailors stumbling for the docks. Everywhere there is a sullen resentment of the hour of daylight that was wasted while the curfew was still in force, though none dare give word to their anger. A smoky haze envelops the towers of the city as a thousand tea kettles are put on the fire to boil, and a particularly sulfurous miasma rolls out of the Tiefling slums of the Redroof district.

By six-ten, as the sun hovers between the spires of the Temple of Asmodeus, the city is fully awake and open for business. The Bleakbridge market is packed to the eaves with merchants and their stalls. The harbor swarms with activity as ships bearing salt and silver set sail for foreign ports, and other ships return with the riches of the world beyond. Commerce is welcome in the Queen’s northernmost city, but like every other part of Chelish life, much is forbidden and the law is enforced with an iron hand. Inspectors patrol the docks with Dottari squads and shield guardians at their call, while warships circle in the mouth of the Yolublis river.

And, docked in a quay a stone’s throw from the harbormaster’s office, a fast ship bearing the scars of a dozen pirate attacks is docked in the harbor with an empty hold. She has lain that way for a month.

By the time the hour is half-past, the sun has disappeared into the leaden sky. The only sign of the sun is a band of yellow light bound between dark clouds and the cliffs of Argo Bay. The hustle and bustle of the city has had time to die down, and hundreds of housewives have had time to return from the markets with fresh food for a proper breakfast.

Down the road from the docks, in a tavern that lies in the shadows of the walls that gird the noble district, a dozen people sit around a long table eating a hot meal. A young woman of foreign origin sits across from a war-scarred veteran, who sits a bit down from a Dwarf in fine clothes and a particularly inscrutable lizard.

The cook carries a tray piled with fish and eggs fresh from her skillet and places it at the center of the table for everyone to serve themselves. A young boy follows her with a basket of bread rolls and a pitcher of cold water.

“Yell if you want anything else,” she says on the way back to the kitchen. She seems to be speaking mostly to the inhuman inquisitor, as if she doesn’t see his kind often and isn’t sure what exactly he eats. “We got butter and fruit, but they cost a little extra.”

The server boy hangs nearby, ready to take an order.
Everyone is free to act.

The half-elf veteran grabs a roll from the passing boy before sliding a solid chunk of some sort of fish onto his plate. He spends a moment checking the fish for bones and then tears the bread in half, forming a sort of improvised fish sandwich. After taking a bite, he glances over at the lady sitting across from him, "Not the worst thing I've had to eat. Fish is cooked properly, and the bread isn't hard as stone."

Zaszy reaches out, taking a fish in his hand. "Zis is appropriate," he mutters to her. He tears at the fish, forsaking plate and utensils in favor of claws and needle-like teeth.

Taking her turn, Leah Oakfounder, fills her plate with bread and fish and eggs. Still young enough to be called young, but old enough to not have to insist on respect from every shop owner and town worker she comes across, the woman with brown eyes and shoulder length brown hair digs into her morning meal, thankful to have real, warm food after more than a week on the road. Magic rings might be able to provide nutrition, but they had little to offer in terms of flavor or satisfaction.

As she eats, Leah takes stock of the others. A couple of them she certainly saw the previous evening. The dwarf and man-lizard are certainly familiar. The others, perhaps she saw them, or even exchanged a word or two, but making her way into a town under such heavy rule saw her speak to many people over the past several hours.

"This place did have an air of quality when I first saw it last evening," Leah agrees with the half elf. "I'm glad I was not wrong."

The man-lizard earn a brief look of disdain at his table manners.

Tyran notices the glance over to the lizard, "Don't mind him, I don't think he's from around here." He follows up the fish with some of the eggs that are still left out, "Speaking of which, you don't look to be from around here either. Believe me, that's a compliment."

The dwarf wordlessly piles a mound of eggs and three large fish onto his trencher. Refilling his cup with cool water, he squints at his meal, and then the table, to sort out what he lacks. He turns to the boy. “Can I trouble you for some taters? Maybe a hunk of cheese for the table, too?”

He holds back the urge to request beer; Kogril Emberforge is here on business, and preferred to first measure the tone of the handler from Cheliax before making a total fool of himself. Though it might already be too late for that, he muses, recalling to mind just how much ale he drank last night. He was vaguely aware of the young woman, but he did not really speak with her after the curfew tolling. Likewise, the lizard fellow from the night before seemed to know what was going on, but now the young silversmith is foggy on the details of any exchange that might have happened.

Agreeing with the others, Kogril nods between bites, careful to keep bits of egg and fish out of his braided brown beard. After a gulp, he chuckles at the half-elf's comment and adds with an amiable tone. “I take it I am not the only stranger to this grand city, Kintargo. I hail from Janderhoff, in Varisia. And yourselves?”

"Tots and hard spread," the young boy repeats to Kogril before dashing into the kitchen. Seconds later, the adventurers hear a slap, followed by the cook scolding her son for using slang in front of the guests.

The boy returns to the table with a plate of cheese and a sullen look. "Taters will be a few minutes."

Zaszy sets the ruined remains of the fish down onto the table, mostly on his plate, and picks at his teeth with one hand. "Westcrown," he offers at Kogril's question.

Tyran glances over at the dwarf, "Ah, I'm from around here, in the broader sense. Native to Cheliax at least, but more to the east. Roundabouts Brastlewark, if you know the area."

"A compliment? How so?" Leah asks the half elf.

As the others place custom orders she places one of her own: "Would there be any way I could get a cold glass of orange juice? The colder the better."

"I was born and raised in a small forest village that bears my family's name. Off in a little seaside kingdom east of here that few this far have heard of. I suppose I don't really hail from anywhere these days, I'm so far from home. But that's fine. I wander. See new things."

"Thank you, m'boy," he rumbles, pushing a pair of coppers into the boy's palm as Kogril takes the plate and sets it onto the table. Taking a few pieces for himself, he nudges the cheese plate closer to everyone else.

Knowledge (geography), untrained 1d20 ⇒ 15 (Westcrown)
Knowledge (geography), untrained 1d20 ⇒ 9 (Brastlewark)

"Afraid I haven't heard of it," he shrugs to Tyran. His gaze shifts to the scaly tablemate. "But Westcrown! A bustling port if I've ever seen one! I remember as a lad aboard one of my father's ships, we stopped by to drop off a score of spice crates. Never got a chance to explore the city, though, we were in a rush. Is that where your family is from?"

He pauses to finish one of his fish, giving attention to any answer the reserved lizardfolk might give.

The boy makes another orbit of the table and returns to the kitchen. A few minutes later, he comes out with a pitcher of freshly squeezed orange juice and a stack of cups, which he fills and passes out to the patrons for two coppers each. "Taters will be ready soon," he says to Kogril.

Tryran nibbles on a bit of cheese while taking a glance around, "You'll understand yourself once you've been here long enough to understand the big cities in Cheliax. My name's Tyran, by the way."

Zaszy considers Kogril's question for a moment, then decides, "Yes." He reaches for another fish.

Kogril raises a palm to the boy to decline the orange juice, mumbling something about it upsetting his stomach. He then nods appreciatively when the lad updates him on the taters. Finishing his eggs, the dwarf tears into his last fish. At the lizard man's pause, followed by such a terse answer, Kogril holds a sideways look for just a few moments.
Sense Motive 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (16) + 8 = 24
He shrugs to himself, idly wondering if Common is not the lizard-man's native tongue.

"Well met, Tyran," he says warmly, inclining his head to the half-elf. "I am Kogril, son of Vogrir, of the Emberforge clan. You may have heard of our name in the silver business if you follow the precious metal markets. From the mines in Mindspin to the workshops in Janderhoff, we might be the best silversmiths in Varisia, perhaps the whole west coast!" His shoulders seem a bit more squared than before, and he sits a bit taller, though he does not seem aware of his change in posture.

"Of course, I could be little biased," he flashes a cheeky grin before taking a bite of fish.

"Hmm..." Leah hums in response to the half-elf, seemingly amused at the idea that she does not understand a city such as Kintargo.

She hesitates, though, when he offers his name, but before she can say or do anything else, the fancily clothed dwarf interjects, offering up his own full name and much more...

"Leah. Leah Oakfounder," she says, unenthusiastically, before quickly returning to her food... not that there's much left on her plate at this point...

All this time, a young woman at the end of the table has been sneaking looks at the four adventurers. At the mention of mines, she finally makes up her mind and gets up from her seat.

"You're adventurers, right?" she sputters, tripping over her words. Sitting down across from Zaszisar'ǃixakaǂaʔ, she smells strongly of cheap wine, and her face is red and puffy from many nights of crying herself to sleep. "You've got to help my father. He's gone missing on Deepmar island. The Thrune House will give you pots of money to go out there, you'd be doing a good deed."

In her hands is a charcoal picture of a bearded man. If she drew it, she's a far more capable artist than her current state would imply.

Knowledge (Local): 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (8) + 5 = 13 (Well, darn.)

"Your city has curfews and nightly patrols and more than enough guards on every corner. Surely this is a job for your local authorities?" Leah asks.

Zaszy pauses in his eating and considers the drawing, then asks, "How is your father called?"

This post contains no statements by Zaszy, and therefore cannot contain any lies. D:

The woman seems confused for a second, and then turns to the reptilian Inquisitor. "My father is Elgin Ashferth. He's the captain of the Deepmar prison," she says, flattening the portrait of her father on the table. "He's been stationed out there for years because he angered someone, but he's a good man. He sent letters home to us every week, but the letters stopped coming, and now the guards say that everyone has gone missing."

She pulls out a thick stack of letters, the topmost of which has a sketch of a flowering bush. "He said that writing for me was the only thing that made his situation bearable. I can't give up on him. Please, the Thrune House is offering a hundred thousand silver pieces to anyone willing to go out to Deepmar island and find out what happened."

"That's quite the reward. Your father... this sounds more unkind than it is meant I assure you... but your father is worth so much to the Thune House?" Leah asks, now clearly more interested than she was a few moments before.

The sound of pots of silver grabs the dwarf's attention, but he is unsure if the House would exempt his aid from reward, due to the favor owed by his family.
Knowledge (local) 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (8) + 4 = 12

"Likely the alchemical products of the mine are more important to House Thrune," Kogril states gruffly. His eyes narrow to Miss Ashferth's stack of letters. "Everyone gone? That doesn't make any sense. Did you father mention anything strange in his last letter?"

"Humans all look alike...the name will make him easier to identify," Zaszy explains in his emotionless monotone. He finishes eating the fish, then adds, "I will seek this Elgin Ashferth."

"He's worth a lot... no," she says. "House Thrune wants to know why the whole prison colony disappeared. That's what the guards said. Everyone is gone. One of the supply ships landed last month and nobody was home."

At Kolrim's question, the woman flips through the letters. "I don't think so, no. My name is Temara, by the way."

She spreads the letters out on the table, and you can see that the one with the flowering bush wasn't unusual. It seems as if Elgin drew a different illustration every week. Sometimes it's simple scenes like a ship out in a bay, sometimes it's a picture of a plant or an animal, or just an object on the captain's desk. The writing is tiny and neat, and hard to read from across the table.

Temara produces a letter from the jumble. "This one, right here. He wrote about some kind of vine that was moving around of its own accord. It's not any weirder than anything else on the island, and I doubt one could've scaled the walls around the colony."

"Wait... could it..." Leah whisper to herself. She mentally recounts or runs through something in her head, holding up and counting her fingers as she does so. "That's got to be it!"

Excitedly pushing her plate aside, Leah pulls her chair closer to the others and says:

"For half a month, I have been tracing the shipments, or rather the lack of shipments of certain crystal components I make use of. A shop owner in a village a few days from here who had failed to receive his usual shipment pointed me to a warehouse in a closer town. They also had stopped receiving their expected deliveries but didn't know why and pointed me here to Kintargo."

"I'd feared there'd been some kind of blockade, or worse, that the Cheliax had decided to hoard these supplies entirely for themselves. I never imagined there would be a reward!" she explains.

Hearing this conversation Tyran interjects, "That isn't a bad reward, really. Might be worth it for me to get involved. It's also an enticing mystery...Well, depending on if there are any other experienced fighters willing to go. I'm not too sure about visiting a spooky death island and babysitting on top of that."

Tyran goes back to munching on a piece of bread, "Speaking of which, Leah, you would do well to remember while you are visiting that Cheliax does not horde supplies. They appropriate them for the noble cause of maintaining greater order, security, and prosperity. And we are all thankful when they do so."

"Ah. Of course," Leah says, getting Tyran's hint to keep her government related opinions to herself. "That's all I meant. And, as I was already on the trail to this mystery and had a vested interest in resolving it, I will gladly pitch in. No babysitting required, I assure you."

She looks over to the distraught daughter and adds, "That we might help reunite a father and daughter is another unexpected bonus. Tamara," Leah asks softly, "do you know where we might go to sign up for this mission to Deepmar?"

"Thank you!" Temara says to Zaszisar'ǃixakaǂaʔ, betraying only a little wariness toward him.

"You're a summoner?" she asks Leah nervously, though her face still shows palpable relief that someone else is willing to help her. She shuffles through her stack of letters, and you see more illustrations of trees and hills and ogres and lizards. But the writing is hard to read from across the table.

"Here," she says as she pulls out a slip of paper with notes she copied from a reward notice. "It says to speak to Durotas Palamer at the Harbor Rego barracks. That's just down the str-"

The door opens, and a squad of soldiers enter the tavern led by a man with a lieutenant's badge pinned to his shoulder. The soldiers stand before the door without their swords drawn. It's a show of force, but they don't look wary so much as bored. The lieutenant sees Zaszisar'ǃixakaǂaʔ and Kogril immediately, and breaks out a fairly good imitation of a welcoming smile.

"Ah, Inquisitor! And our friend from the Mindspin mountains! Durotas Palamer has returned and wishes to see you now."

Zaszy stands. "Ah, very good. If you will give me a moment to settle my tab, we can be on our way." He looks about for the innkeeper.

The dwarf listens as he chows down on the bread trencher that held his eggs, fish, and cheese. It wouldn’t hurt to keep an eye out for Ashferth, since Kogril intends to visit Deepmar anyway. He hesitates on his last bite when Tamara says something about the alchemist woman at the table being a summoner. His brown eyes study Leah for a second, not really knowing how the girl picked up on that, but he keeps his ignorance to himself as he gulps down his final bit of bread. He is about to offer his aid in seeking the girl’s father when the door opens and in file soldiers led by a lieutenant.

The seventh son is on his feet the instant he hears the summons, hastily brushing down his beard and chest in case of crumbs from the delicious breakfast. He expected a welcoming party for his service to Cheliax, but these men seem more like an escort to control rather than protect.

“Right,” he replies in a tone that is quite business-like. Reaching under the table, he hauls onto his shoulder a leather backpack stained by seasalt. A short blade scabbard across the small of his back clatters as he pulls the pack squarely onto his back. Lastly, he slides the ornate handle of a heavy pick down a belt loop at his side. He pushes in his seat. When the Inquisitor mentions settling his tab, Kogril turns to Tamara for a moment and speaks to her in a lower tone.

“Show me that likeness of him one more time. Would hate to bring back the wrong papa on accident,” he says with a wink.

He fishes out a two gold coins from a pocket and gives one to the innkeeper for breakfast, and the other to the boy for his attentive service. Kogril then looks to the lieutenant. “Lead the way.”

"Wait," Leah says, standing herself. "Lieutenant, me and my friend here," she nods toward Tyran, "heard about the reward for investigating what has happened to Deepmar and that we were to report to Durotas Plamer to join the mission. Might we accompany you to him?"

At the sight of Kogril getting ready to leave, the young boy dashes into the kitchen and retrieves the Dwarf's order of taters. He grins a big toothy smile at the gold coin.

Temara hands Kolgril the picture of Elgin. The captain of the prison colony has a meager (Even by human standards) beard and a widow's peak, but also a square jaw and the stern look of a man used to leading soldiers.

"Please, may I see it for a moment?" she asks. Not waiting for Kogril to give it back, she pulls the picture out of his hands and scrawls a quick message on the back.

"Give that to him if... when. When you find him."

The lieutenant is surprised to see Leah volunteer, but he recovers from it quickly. "Yes! Of course! Any and all help is welcome! We shall wait outside for a moment and give you time to gather your things."

At that, the soldiers turn and exit the tavern.

Zaszy leaves a few coppers on the counter, and then makes his way outside.

Another dialogless post. :(

"Oh boy, another day another chance to risk life and limb for money I probably don't need." With that, Tyran rushes to his room and returns a moment later with a lightly loaded pack and a heavy crossbow.

"Well, is everyone ready? I prefer not to waste the lieutenant's time."

Leah too heads back up to her room. When she returns, she looks somewhat more the adventurer now that she has pulled on a snug fitting set of letter armor and slung a mid sized pack across her back.

"Tamara," Leah says more instructingly than comfortingly, "we will find you father, but until we do, I want you to stay away from drink and keep yourself busy. Wallowing in sorrow only brings about more sorrow. Trust me, I know."

With that, Leah follows the others outside.

Setting the food onto the table for a moment, he neatly folds the daughter's note and tucks it safely into an inner breast pocket on his cloak. He pats it reassuringly. "Of course, Temara."

The sound of the closing door prompts the dwarf to hurry.
"Enjoy these taters," he adds awkwardly, gesturing the hot dish to Temara Ashferth. He nods a bow. "I must be going."

With that, the dwarf trundles after the others out on the street.

Temara mutters thanks to both Kogril and Leah, but she seems lost for words. The door is about to shut behind Kogril when she shouts "I'll stay away from drink, don't you worry! I have hope now!"

The lieutenant leads the way, and the Dottari squad falls into formation around the four adventurers. The soldiers are relaxed, and appear to be more apprehensive toward the other citizens on the street than their charges.

Down the street and just a little bit up from the wharf is a blockhouse surrounded by a stone wall and a courtyard that smells faintly of blood and alchemical reagents. There is a gallows in one corner where three pirates are shackled to the platform, awaiting their sentence. Crates of contraband lie next to crates of restricted goods awaiting inspection, piled so close that the adventurers are forced to squeeze between the crates to follow the lieutenant.

The inside of the blockhouse is considerably more orderly than the outside, possibly because it's kept by secretaries, not soldiers. Off to one side is a corner office with embrasures for windows, and inside that office is a low teak desk, and behind that desk is Durotas Palamer.

"Inquisitor Zaszisar'ǃixakaǂaʔ!" the Halfling officer calls out in greeting, scarcely missing a beat as he snaps a ledger closed. "And Master Emberforge, of course. Just the men I need to see. And... I don't know you?"

He steps around his desk and approaches Tyran and Leah with an outstretched hand. "I suppose you've been recruited by either of these gents?"

Tryan shakes the officer's hand with a slight bow, "That is correct, sir. I have many years of experience from my time in the Chelaxian army and believe my talents may be of use here."

Leah, too, shows her respects to the officer. "My being here with these others is more fortunate chance," she replies honestly. "I have been directed from town to town for the better part of three weeks while trying to find out why certain supplies were no longer available to me. Everntually I was pointed here and only this morning learned of the trouble at Deepmar."

"My name is Leah Oakfounder, I am a Amháin Cé Glaonna, a Summoner in the common tongue, originally hailing from the very distant kingdom of Gilren. And I am at your service," Leah concludes, offering the halfling her own respectful bow.

"A soldier," says Palamer as he shakes Tyran's hand. His accent, similar to every other Dottari soldier that the adventurers have talked to, is from anywhere but Kintargo. "Yeah, that's exactly the sort of man I need."

His smile falters a little bit as Leah introduces herself, but only for a moment. "And it is rare that we get a traveller from so far away as yourself. But since you're a summoner, you know what this is."

He picks a chalky yellow crystal out of the bowl on his desk and spins it on his palm. Momentary veins of red energy pulse inside the crystal, and disappear as soon as it rolls to a halt between two fingers. "Sinmarrow crystal. We mine it, clean it, grade it, and it fetches its weight in platinum in the markets of Egorian. It's one of the reagents that can be found on Deepmar island, and it goes without saying that the prison colony we have out there digging this stuff out of the ground is very profitable for the House of Thrune. Or it used to be. Everyone at the colony disappeared last month, and I do mean everyone. The prisoners, the guards, the cooks, everyone but the chickens. The supply ship arrived and found the place deserted. I need the four of you to go out there and find out what happened to everybody."

The Halfling hops back onto his chair and shuffles through the ledger in search of something. "Now, I'd send a platoon of soldiers, but we're stretched thin. Every man of the Dotarri has to go about town in squad strength, or they go missing and we find them stripped naked and dumped in an alley. Locals won't volunteer because the island has developed a reputation. We cycled the guards through once a week, and they spun wild stories about creeping plants and great hairy apes and swarms of flesh-eating bugs. They were angling for a pay raise, y'see."

"Recently... very recently, last night in fact, the Lord-Mayor realized that shouting at me wasn't going to solve the problem, and we've put a reward out. Ten thousand gold pieces for each person that goes out to the island and returns with information. And if you're willing to do a little more, I'm willing to sweeten the pot."

"So," Palamer says as he finally finds the map he's looking for. "Before I begin, are there any questions?"

Tyran listens intently to what the small man has to say, particularly to the possible threats, "Is there any reason to believe the claims of these soldiers in regards to the creatures on the island? In fact, do you have knowledge of any particularly dangerous creatures inhabiting the island or mines at all? What did the crew of the supply ship report as to the conditions of the settlement when they arrived other than the missing people? I need to know what we might be up against on this voyage."

Leah all but bites her tongue to keep herself from commenting on Palamer's description of Kintargo's guard forces. What he described happening to lone guards in his city would have been absolutely unthinkable in the last city she had truly called home. In Ava's Head, the guards were so well trained and helpful that the people of the port city looked after them very nearly as much as the guards looked after the city and its people!

'If only Tezio could see this place, even Alinya would struggle to contain his anger,' Leah thinks to herself.

The Summoner's frustration grows as the halfling before her talks about how little he trusts his guards. So much so that she is forced to take a deep breath in order to answer his question in a calm, sensible manner.

"Also, what information will be sufficient?" Leah asks, after Tyran has his say. "Perhaps we will uncover a terrible crime or tragedy, but if all we are able to find is an abandoned colony swarmed by dangerous creatures, as your guards already reported, is that enough to earn the reward?" she continues, doing her best to keep her opinions to herself.

"We will appreciate anysing you can provibe, Captain." Zaszy offers after a long moment. "Testimony, statements, ledgers, witnesses... anysing related to ze island zat you can gib us." At Leah's question about completeness, he adds, "An abandoned colony swarming wiss dangerous creatures leabes bodies, Summoner - skeletons, at least. Our job is not complete until we understand why zere are no bodies, or we locate zose bodies. Anysing less is an insult to ze great houses."

Kogril nods curtly when Palamer recognizes him. The dwarf raises an eyebrow at the strange crystal in the officer's tiny hand, his gaze fixed on its colors and angles. He says nothing as the halfling and the others speak, until there is a pause for him to interject.

"May I see that crystal?" the dwarf holds up an open hand decorated in silver and gemstones.

If Palamer hands the sinmarrow crystal over, Kogril will inspect it. Appraise: 1d20 + 3 + 2 ⇒ (13) + 3 + 2 = 18, how much would he guess this crystal to be worth? (don't count the +2 if this does not count as a precious gemstone). Knowledge (dungeoneering): 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (7) + 1 = 8, would he be able to tell any natural features about the mines/caves based on the type of crystal formation? A wet climate, dry climate? Or rock composition, such as clay or igneous?

"So many questions," Palamer says with a smile.

"Knock yourself out," he says as he tosses the crystal to Kogril.

"The wildlife on the island is a big unknown. I've only got tall tales from the guards to go on, and the truth is that none of them, to my knowledge, has ever been killed on the island. Sure, prisoners die, but that's pretty much what we send them out there for. They're murderers, rapists, and pirates, and we promise them they can go free if they serve a fraction of their sentence in the mines."

"Look, maybe the wild stories are true. Maybe there is a dragon wandering around the swamps, but it's not what caused everyone to go missing. When the supply ship showed up, the relief guards came ashore and looked through the colony. They say everyone was gone but the chickens, and it was as if everyone stopped in the middle of whatever they were doing and walked away. Spooked the sailors pretty bad, and they left in a hurry."

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (19) + 5 = 24

Leah's rebuke makes the Halfling's smile slip for but a moment.

"Honey, this isn't Gilren. A few months ago, the peasants were revolting. The Kintargo Dotarri failed to keep order because they were corrupt, lazy, and disloyal. The guards assigned to Deepmar Colony were Kints and some skullcrushers from Vyre, so yes I find it plausible that "poisonous, acid-spitting wildlife" was a convenient excuse to blame for the equipment that they kept losing through neglect. But that's changed. The Lord-Mayor fired them all and brought us in. The locals don't like us much, but they'll get over it."

"So, what I'm hoping you'll find once you get to the island is the staff, the guards, and the prisoners all alive and well with a solid explanation for what happened. What I expect you to find are dead bodies and evidence of an attack. That's why the Inquisitor is on this mission. My personal theory is that another one of the royal houses made a grab for the crystals. If that's what happened, I want evidence. Additionally, I want you to visit the mines. Master Emberforge is a scion of one of the foremost mining families in the Mindspin mountains. If he can assess the condition of the mines, you all get paid."

"Failing that, there's something else I'm willing to pay you for. To answer your question, Inquisitor, I don't have any accurate records of the operation on Deepmar Island. I just have this."

The officer pulls a ledger out from under his desk. It bears the old seal of Kintargo, the one that was in use until the recent revolution. "A few months ago, someone else was sitting behind this desk. You should have seen him. Looked like someone taught a pig to walk on its hind legs. Long story short, he was skimming off the top. And the sides. And nibbling off the corners too. And he cooked the books to hide what he was stealing, hid the theft in losses due to animal attacks and inclement weather. There's another ledger on the island, kept by the captain of the prison. Find that ledger and bring it to me. Any other questions?"

"Sounds pretty straightforward. Get to the island, look for signs of violence and who did it, get the ledger, inspect the mines. I figure our inquisitor and dwarf friends will be handling most of that. I'll make sure to keep them safe while they do so. When do we leave?"

"So these were not your people giving the report? If you found obvious corruption at the top it is only right to suspect it in the lower ranks as well..." Leah says. It's not quite an apology, so much as an acknowledgement that perhaps the previous situation was beyond the lieutenant's control. Whether the current tension in the city is his doing or not is most certainly a conversation that should be held another time, if it is to be held at all.

”Your objectives are simple and clear,” Leah continues, appreciatively. ”Try and determine what happened to the colony. Find the ledger. If possible, investigate the state of the mines. My only questions now are practical and logistical ones:

And Fourth:” Leah says while eyeing large Sinmarrow crystal, ”I came here because the shortage of summoning supplies in the region and while to some of you that crystal may look pretty and to others it may look like profit to be made, to me it looks almost… comforting. Lieutenant Palamer," she says, turning back to the halfling, "I don’t suppose Kintargo has a reserve of reagents? I am not out, but my supplies have dwindled, and being able to go into this unknown situation fully stocked would be appreciated.”

With scrutinous brown eyes he turns over the crystal a few times, trying to sort out why the red veins do not appear when he holds it. Shrugging, he holds it out to Tyran, Leah, and the lizard-man for any of them to inspect. If no one takes it, he returns it to Palamer.

“Sounds like the prison captain would know about this recent revolt in town,” Kogril states, more for thinking aloud than for any other reason. “A map of the mine would be a boon, to save others the trouble of getting lost.”

He raises an eyebrow to Leah’s list of questions, thinking she is too bold to ask so much of Palamer. The officer's handling of recent events reinforces the strict notion of Cheliaxian rule, and a concern, unlikely as it may be, surfaces to the dwarf’s mind. I am a stranger to these laws. Better to know now than be held over a barrel later. Kogril adds one more question to the halfling when the summoner is finished speaking. “Aside from payment forfeiture, what happens if we return with no answers and no ledger? Will there be cells or a headsman waiting for us?”

"Right, the boat. The boat leaves in three hours, and it takes three days to reach Deepmar island. And supplies, well, I have you covered."

Palamer jumps down from his chair and trots over to the far wall, where a number of satchels are hanging from coathooks. He takes four and passes them out to the adventurers. "Those are cavalry rations, good for ten days. Mead, tea, and wandermeal cakes just like my mam used to make them."

"Reagents? Like sinmarrow crystals and the other stuff we find on the island? You can forget about them. Anything I have in stock is the property of House Thrune, and I can't just give it away. You might find a merchant around here who still has some. Good luck."

"Like I said, I can't spare any of my men. But I did find something I can spare. There's this one old model of guldottari stationed in Kintargo. It's just surplus at the moment, but I had it boxed up and loaded onto the ship. It'll get orders to defend you on the island. Just be careful with it and try to bring it back in one piece."

"I'm not going to be pleased, but I'm not going to throw you all in jail if you fail to find anything. I'll just send you home to your papa without a reward. From what I hear, that's punishment enough. But remember, I need that ledger. It's absolutely crucial if we're going to continue operations on the island, so I'll make you a deal. Every crystal we dig up is the property of the House, so we always search everyone coming back from the island to make sure they're not filling their pockets with the Lord-Mayor's money. But if you return with the ledger, I won't search those mealbags you're holding. You can stuff whatever you like in there and walk away with it. I'm going to assume that the good inquisitor will stop you from stealing the House's property."

Palamer broadly winks taps his thumbs together as he makes his promise, a gesture that means "mutual profit". Judging from the inflection of his words and the gesture itself, the officer fully expects everyone to come back loaded with valuable crystals, and doesn't care so long as he gets his ledger.

"And yes, I do have a map of the island. One of the guards drew it up for me. It'll take a long time to go through, so I'll pull it out if nobody has any other questions."

Let's try that sense motive check, just for fun
Sense Motive: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (3) + 2 = 5
Knowledge Local: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (7) + 1 = 8
Perception: 1d20 + 15 ⇒ (10) + 15 = 25
"We do appreciate the information and the supplies, sir. I'm glad we'll be on our way shortly."