Robbin's inquiry of the guards only results in a shrug - they seem to be reconsidering their professional choices in light of their colleague's death - but Mrs. Walder overhears the query and speaks up. "Aye, we have all our records. They're in Archie's desk. Them blasted burglars, but as far as I kin tell, didn't bother with suchlike, which is good for us - when ye're in the pawn brokering and money lending businesses, well, accurate records, them's yer whole business itself, if'n ye follow me."
"Now, as to enemies, no, none that I'm aware of. He weren't no saint, 'n I cain't say that I liked how excited he were to ogle that sphinx strumpet..." she bursts into tears once again before slowly collecting herself. "... but enemies, no, not me Archie."
While this dialog is going on, the others search the area, which is, as already noted, quite a mess. In their haste, the robbers left behind numerous jewels and baubles, of one sort or another, though there are clearly multiple items also missing.
of relatively low value.
Besides the showroom, the ground floor also includes an office and the guards' quarters. A large polished desk dominates the office. Hooks for hanging lamps are permanently affixed to the walls, while mounted behind the desk is a large framed portrait.
Running along the east wall is a large display case filled plaques, framed documents, trophies, and stuffed animals. In this display case Gorak finds numerous items that he might use for object reading: it contains mementos of personal value rather than treasures: Walder family portraits, a signed copy of the town charter, a stuffed and mounted bear, a mounted reefclaw, and a boggard short spear.
The guards' quarters are comparatively sparse. Two cots and a bunk bed sit in the room. Footlockers are tucked underneath the cots to store personal belongings. A table and chairs are in the room’s center, a well-used deck of harrow cards on the tabletop. A large, rusty red blotch remains on the floor where the guard Thom Turnip’s body was discovered. Agnes observes your interest and comments, "I tried to clean up the blood, but that floor is permanently stained, I'll tell you that. 'N no wonder, for poor ole Thom gave up buckets o' blood he did. Now, why they had to slit his throat, kin ye tell me that? Beasts! That's what they were, 'n what killed me Archie too, beastly beasts!"
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"Cheers mate, that might be useful fer the happenings here. Give us some insight into the chaps business practices, as it were. I'll take a looksie here in a moment, mind you. If there was something of his personal effects, I might be able to reason out his emotions or happenings right 'fore the attack. I am thinkin' that might be more useful in this phase of the investigation."
Taking the logbook book, Gorak flips through each of the pages- attempting to decipher the notes and anything obviously valuable.
Flipping to the last few pages, he places his large hand across the pages - closing his eyes. His tophat, once purple, now flashes yellow to orange before settling into a deep forrest green. the half-orcs eyes gloss over and his expression goes slack.
Perusing the ledger that the murder victim had spent so much time using, Gorak is able to sense something of the spirit and psyche of Archibald Walder, even from beyond the grave. He receives the strong impression that Walder was a greedy fellow, one who found the twin careers of money-lender and pawn broker to be well suited to his goals and dreams; some of the pages nearly pulse with the excitement of a good deal in the offing.
Gorak also senses something of Walder's lustful nature, and on the last pages he has the feeling that Walder's mind was already turned from the business of the day - that which required his careful notation upon those same pages - to the activities of the carnival, and the prurient possibilities it might present. It's hard to avoid the conclusion that Walder did not leave his wife at home by accident.
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The half-orc's eyes slowly open, accompanied by a few blinks to adjust to the light. HIs top hat jumps from deep forrest green, to a swirl between oranges and reds- finally settling on bright, flame like orange.
He quickly looks around the room to ensure there are no additional listeners, side the pathfinders.
"Greedy little chap, he was. To be expected, I suppose- based on profession and whatnot. Plenty'o mates wouldve had a reason to knocker 'm off. Perhaps of more importance, 'e left his wife behind last night. All intentional like, if you be catching my drift."
”Is there anything else we can glean here?”
Wheeler approached one of the guards
Would anyone have accompanied him to the carnival, for security or anything else?
"Nah. Mr. Walder weren't worried 'bout nuthin'." He lowers his voice so that Mrs. Walder won't hear him. "An' I think he wanted some privacy to feast his eyes on that gorgeous sphinx lady if y' know what I mean. Not that it worked out too good for him, if it's true like they say, that she done killed 'im! It's like I always say: stick to yer own kind: bipedal humanoids! Ain't no reason to get love lorn for a giant cat lady that ends up tearin' ye to bits! Am I right? Or am I right?"
Agnes Walder hesitates for a moment when the pathfinders ask to enter her business' vault, but when she realizes that her husband's key to the heavy lock is missing she frowns and with a grim sigh fetches her spare key. Opening the door, she eyes the pathfinders warily. "Look around and make sure that nothing is amiss but hands off the merchandise! This is where we keep the good stuff." She puts a hand to her brow. "I feel a bit faint. Archie, Archie, Archie, why oh WHYYYY.....?" She hands one of you her keys and sits heavily down into a chair to resume her grieving.
Descending the stairs, a bare corridor leads to another set of locked double doors - the entrance to the vault. A hook for a hanging lantern is mounted on the western wall at the base of the stairs, and underneath it is a single chair.
Beyond the heavy steel door, this darkened chamber is lined with shelves, including freestanding shelving in the center. There is ample room in the vault, but labeled boxes, bags, weapons, and armor are spread throughout.
Blue - 6 dmg;
Red - dmg;
Raynard Milton - dmg;
Wheeler Fire - dmg;
Cortland - dmg;
Gorak - dmg;
Ninnic - dmg;
Robbin Redfist - dmg;
Ninnic, Cortland, and Wheeler move into the room, while the other three hang back in the hall.
The vault contains the Walder family’s better collection of items, gems and jewelry, and masterwork weapons and armor when not on display, as well as coins minted in Korvosa, Magnimar, and neighboring countries. There are even a few boxes belonging to Ilsurian citizens who pay a fee to have belongings stored securely.
As they enter the room, Cortland hears a noticeable 'click' sound from somewhere, though its significance is not immediately obvious.
As the three begin to search the room, both Cortland and Wheeler notice that there is a secret panel built into the shelves . Before they have a chance to investigate it, however...
... both Cortland and Wheeler spot someone else in the room, inching towards the door! This smooth-skinned, hairless humanoid has penetrating eyes and skin that seems to shift and change to mimic her surroundings, which is likely how the pathfinders didn't notice her when they first entered.
The strange figure makes for the open doorway, seemingly eager to get out of the vault. Suddenly, as she passes the threshold, a trapdoor opens, threatening to catch both her and Gorak!
The pathfinder leaps to safety, but the skulking humanoid is not so lucky, and she drops - painfully - 20' into a pit. Looking down, Gorak can see that another, similar, barely clothed humanoid is also in the pit, seemingly shivering .
"Let us go and we'll tell you whatever we know!" They are both trembling, and the one who was already in the pit looks particularly miserable, as if he had been there for some time.
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Cortland quietly gathers the group together and shares what he knows of Skulks. Skulks live on the fringes of society, stealing what they need and doing what they must—even committing casual murder—to survive. Their unabashed cowardice is perhaps their most widely known trait, but skulks don’t see themselves as particularly craven. Instead, they view their dishonorable behaviors as the most expedient method of survival. They hate most other humanoids, viewing them as lazy and foolish, and think nothing of sneaking into a home, killing all the residents, and burglarizing what they can carry off without getting caught.
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Robbin to Cortland still off to the side, So they are not really animals? They have intelligence and a sense of self? Hmm, can they be reasoned with? Holy pitiful creatures. . . BUT if they will kill without cause, they are hostile people and must be detained at the very least. I wonder how many more of them there are and how close to the town they are.
The two skulks begin to blubber pathetically. The one who was already in the seems particularly poorly, but both are obviously shaking and trembling, far in excess of what you would expect from mere fear.
"All right, let us go and we'll tell you what we know. Which ain't much. It was just a job, and a fella's gotta... eat, right? The word came down with some keys: sneak in to the Locked Box and deal with all the guards. Why? Who knows? Ours ain't to reason why and whatnot, dontchaknow? But then there was only one guard - " he stammers for a moment - "an' I ain't done nuthin' to him neither!" before casting a glance at his comrade, who picks up the narrative.
"Nor me, that's fer sure, why should we be troublin' that poor fellow?" she asks, as if their intent could hardly have been more well-meaning, "but them other two - Kymeth and Onamae - they's right proper blackguards they is, an', well, an' they kilt him. I weren't even lookin' - just pokin' around to see if I could find anything interesting and then welp they done and kilt him right dead an' all. Shame that. Real darn pity." She sighs, perhaps a bit too dramatically, before continuing. "But then, well, here we were, might as well make the best of it and see what we could find. I'm sure I don't have t' tell ye that ... things ... have gotten right proper expensive these days. In fact, I don't s'pose I could trouble any o' ye fine folk fer a small loan, jes fer today, 'n I promise to repay ye double by tomorrow, or even later today if ye prefer. It'd be ever so nice of ye..."
The first skulk resumes the narrative: "So there we were, really just mindin' our own business, if ye'll accept that a wee bit o' burglary is our kinda business, when them other guards came back along with the mistress o' the place, and put all kinds o' disruption on our mission! Kymeth and Onamae, well they just run right off quick as that, leaving us here without even a thought. 'Twas my misfortune to be locked in the vault here, 'n I kin promise ye that I ain't found nuthin' in here that I truly wanted to find, an' my friend here, well I heard her trip the pit trap when she ran out - I guess you bin down here all this time?"
The second skulk nods pathetically. "Aye, I bin. 'N I reckon I mighta up and starved to death too, if not fer our rescuers here - " her sweeping gesture encompasses all the pathfinders gathered above - "truly they bin sent to save us. How kin we ever repay they's kindness?" She gives you a bright and toothy smile, as if it's settled that you are all now the best of friends.
They both shrug hopelessly. "Yeah, we use, so what? Got any? Or know where we can score some? Being stuck in here ain't exactly been easy, if ye know what I mean."
As for their employer, they both seem genuinely unclear about who wanted the guards harmed, or why. "The others - them who ran off - they told us there was a job - who're we to turn it down? The price o' the good stuff keeps going up 'n up."
"They's skulks like us. But just more - what's the word - oh yeah - more connected. I'm sure they could tell you lots more. If we could find 'em. Let us outahere and maybe we can find 'em!"