Barkot's eyes start searching for the exit again while Lady Heidmarch is dressing him down. I knew dis dame would be trouble da moment I walked in on time and she made me sit an' wait wit' dese udder guys. Dis is why I'm not a joiner.
But the promise of access to the Pathfinders' library is persuasive, and the notion of a little gold now and then doesn't hurt her argument. It has been a long time since Barkot has had enough coins in his pocket to spend the night anywhere better than a dangerous, flea-infested flophouse. Despite his appearance, and much as he loves the streets of Magnimar, he is no more eager than anyone else to sleep in them; he is merely unwilling to compromise his progress toward his main goals, even for a moment, to gain either safety or comfort. As untrusting as he is, the bait that Lady Heidmarch has dangled before the group could not have been more perfectly targeted to appeal to him if she had scripted it in advance.
And on top of it all, the job she has in mind practically has his name on it. A woman missing in the great metropolis, perhaps vanishing of her own free will, perhaps under duress. Whether she is hiding or being hidden, she is in his city, with a relic of the ancients who built the Irespan, no less.
He disregards his doubts about the logic behind her argument that the way to be sure she wouldn't have him watched would be to work for her, for the moment. She has made them an offer no sane man - or Barkot - could refuse.
"Ok, m'lady, I'm in." Barkot leans forward in his chair and makes eye contact with Lady Heidmarch for the first time in the hours since he stepped through her door. "C'n ya tell us anyt'ing about dis broad, Natalya? What does she look like? She's half-Varisian, half what else - Chel? She got a partic'lar style for gettin' ya stuff? She a second-story gal? Knife fighter? Lock-picker? She ever mention a fence - a buyer fer da loot she comes up wit' dat ya don' want? Any details ya c’n give me - give us - could help."
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"Yep, we really need to know more about Natalya if we're going to find her." Isan agrees.
Then, thinking aloud he adds, "I just had a thought. Don't you thing it's strange that she would contact you at all if she had planned all along to keep the artifact. It's possible that she was forced to change her plans and then had no safe way to contact you. She might still be loyal to you."
Then straightening his back and with a shake of his head, he says with confidence, "But no matter the reason, the outcome will be the same. We will find her."
Reillana stands impassively throughout the Venture Captain's speechmaking, her posture conveying neither defiance nor subservience, though she offers a slow nod of acknowledgement at the end.
"I agree with Isanadu, if this woman had intended from the start to keep the item for herself there would have been no reason for her to involved the Pathfinders--unless she wanted nosy outsiders getting involved. Is there a possibility this could be a part of some Sczarni internal politics?"
"C'n ya tell us anyt'ing about dis broad, Natalya? What does she look like? She's half-Varisian, half what else - Chel? She got a partic'lar style for gettin' ya stuff? She a second-story gal? Knife fighter? Lock-picker?"
Lady Heidmarch sits down again and nods approvingly.
"I believe her father was Chelish, but I can't be sure. Whatever remains of her family live in Riddleport, though that seemed a sore subject. She has no ties to them that I could determine.
She is olive-skinned, with long, curly, black hair and blue eyes. She's a sorceress as well as a thief. These powers gave her a leg up in the Tower Girls, who do second story work."
"She ever mention a fence - a buyer fer da loot she comes up wit' dat ya don' want?"
"Unfortunately, I know little about her operations. She approached us, and requested a certain measure of autonomy.
The Society is making inroads with the Sczarni, and having a double agent was too tempting, so I ignored my better instincts.
I can tell you that she originally approached me through a fortune teller named The Amazing Zograthy, who operates out of Washer's Row in Dockway."
"I agree with Isanadu, if this woman had intended from the start to keep the item for herself there would have been no reason for her to involved the Pathfinders--unless she wanted nosy outsiders getting involved. Is there a possibility this could be a part of some Sczarni internal politics?"
Lady Heidmarch considers the points. "Yes, what you say is true, unless there was some piece of information that she needed that could only be gained by gaining my trust?"
Waving her had as to dismiss the conjecture as irrelevant, she continues. "I did take a measure of her. She seemed interested in money over all things. Her distaste for how much of their profits went to her superiors brought her to us.
This item she may have found.... she would find no better market than the Society, and she was aware of that. I could see her attempting to drive up the price, but not disappearing completely. I agree, it doesn't sound like her.
Sczarni politics? Certainly that is a possibility. There have also been reports of Nidalese slavers in the streets of late. Maybe she got picked up by the city guard. Any of these things could explain her absence."
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Paëral listens intently as Lady Heidmarch answers questions...
...he nervously coughs as he lets the others know of what he's learned of Magnimar since his arrival...
"Got here two weeks ago...familiarized myself with the city as best I could. Here's what I found out about the Sczarni...
"There are six major Sczarni gangs here...of the six, the Gallowed wield more power...and the Tower Girls had a fallout with the Wreckwash Blades, forcing them to move to a new hideout...if Natalya belonged to them, that might explain her disappearance..."
When the lady mentions the fortune teller, the rogue interjects, "I've heard the Amazing Zograthy is the Sczarni's middleman...and his services come at a cost..."
And mention of the city guard brings out, "The city guard operate out of the Arvensoar...like I said, been here a while so I wanted to get the lay of the land..."
Lady Heidmarch gives Paeral an approving nod when you shows his resourcefulness.
”Did she say what the object might be?”
"I have my suspicions, Jacobadiah, but Natalya herself did not know what the object was, so she could give little details. I'd rather not cloud the issue with my desires.
I have little else of value to offer, so I think this briefing is concluded. I hope to hear good news from you soon."
Lady Heidmarch takes the rest of the notes on the paradox box and begins studying them. The party gathers the items from the box, and heads toward the door to the library.
Standing on the other side of the door is the seneschal, who does not move to let the party by. He scans the party, giving you the feeling that he has just weighed you to the ounce.
He pointedly looks at the items, and Squint's notes and clears his throat.
Sheila looks up from the table. "Ah, thank you, Fritz. Please show our recruits to the quartermaster."
Fritz's nose scrunches up momentarily, before bowing and leading the way downstairs to a room stacked with equipment of all types, and a halfling woman carefully cataloguing the items.
Barkot glances at Paëral, then at the halfling. Oh, fer cryin'...
"Mebbe I'm outta line here, but that ain't how it works where I come from. We all work on da job, we all split da loot. I kinda thought we'd just sell the gems to the quartamaster an' split da gold even-like. Well, 'cept fer da guy dat wants da magic ring. He's already gettin' more dan his share."
Barkot shrugs. "An' the rest of us don't? Alls I'm sayin' is dat if you're takin' the ring, it don' seem right dat ya also get a cut of da little bit o' gold dat's left. Da rest of us need stuff ta keep us alive too. I don' have no problem wit' somebody takin' da ring - dat's da way it works wit' magic stuff - but dat leaves da udder five of us ta split t'ree gems, an' dere's only one fair way ta do dat. Jake here sez he likes gems, dat's swell, but I ain't givin' up a meal just so he can hold onta somet'in' pretty."
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Paëral shakes his head. "I'm guessing I'll be the primary scout and trapfinder...the ring could keep me alive if I have a misstep... I can help keep you and the others alive if I do well at my job... if the ring keeps me alive, it can keep you alive...
"I've already told you I don't care about the loot...divide it as you wish... I just didn't care for your comment implying I got more than I deserve..."
The Elf silently fumes as he walks away. Will he be like this every time we find valuables?
Barkot shakes his head as Paëral stalks off. He calls after him, "Didn't say dat, didn't imply it. Ya don' like hearin' dat a magic ring's wort' more 'n' a few cheap rocks, well, dat's on you."
Barkot takes a breath. "Ya know what? I don' need dis beef." He points at Squint. "Ya like gems? Take whadever ya want. Da rest of you guys figger it out. We got work ta do."
He manages to walk out of the mansion before spitting on the ground. Oh, whadda shock, da half-breed gets da short enda da stick. Looks like dat's how it's gonna be.
Barkot takes a deep breath, then another, inhaling the scent of the metropolis around him. He closes his eyes and listens, the sounds of people bustling through the streets at the end of a long day, the night workers just beginning to leave their homes for the start of their working day, horses neighing and peddlers -- even in this rarified neighborhood -- calling out to advertise their wares.
Let's get dis party started.
The oracle casts Ears of the City, searching for the whereabouts of Natalya Vancaskerkin.
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"Yeah, but what about the silver dagger...?" Squint says to nothing after Barkot storms out. "Did I say something wrong?" the halfling asks, looking around.
"I'll meet you all outside. I have something I have to take care of." The halfling hustles off.
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As soon as possible, Squint heads back down to the stables and gets Ulyi from the stables.
"He came by and tried to BRUSH me!"
"Yeah, well, he probably thought you'd like it."
"I have feathers," the large bipedal bird-like creature mutters as Squint rejoins the group. Golden feathers cover the six-foot-eight creature from head to talon-tipped toe. The figure wears a saddle and caparison (leather mask), though the red-tipped beak is prominent and sharp in appearance.
Everyone just heard the bird speak. Squint coughs.
"Um folks, this is Ulyi. It----"
"I.... Ulyi corrects.
"Ulyi will be joining us," Squint finishes.
Paëral follows Fritz downstairs to the quartermasters. Seeing the halfling, he bows. "Ma'am, what equipment is available to us?"
The halfling woman sizes Paeral up, and gives him a wink and a smile.
"Anything you want, as long as you're paying, handsome, but make sure you don't try any tricky stuff."
A dagger materializes in her hand as if from nowhere. She twirls it around her hand elaborately, then makes it disappear with a twist of her wrist.
She laughs loudly at Paeral's expression. "We keep a modest selection of weaponry and adventuring gear here in the lodge, as well as particular items that have recently been delivered by other Pathfinders.
We also have excellent contacts with many of the better merchants in the city, and I should be able to locate just about anything you need within a day or two."
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Rolling her eyes behind her mask, Reillana ignores the bickering and slips from the room, preferring to stand in the fresh air of the manor grounds, though she keeps a moderate distance from Barkot as the half-orc mutters and stares into the middle distance--casting a spell? How interesting.
She startles as Jacobadiah comes around the corner, arguing with a talking bird. A peal of genuine laughter escapes the elf's lips. "How delightful! It's a pleasure to meet you, Ulyi, I'm so very sorry you were relegated to the stables."
Barkot snaps out of his trance with a start. Dat can't be good. He turns back to the entrance to Heidmarch Manor, intending to run back inside, but stops short when he sees half the party has already come outside, and the halfling has been joined by a ... a ...
"Er, who's yer friend, Jake?"
Once that's cleared up, Barkot remembers why he was in such a hurry.
"We gotta problem, people. We ain't da only mopes lookin' fer dis broad. An' I gotta feelin' dat if we don' find her first, it ain't gonna matter if we find her second, ya get what I mean?"
He quickly fills them in on the bit of information he gleaned from his spell's firehose blast of sights and sounds.
[ooc]You saw quick flashes of the inside of a building, but only enough to know the walls were stone. You saw only enough to know they were women and they were Varisian."[/b]
"You said there were only women present, yes? That's not conclusive, but if there are any exclusively female gangs in the city that could be our lead..."
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"Yes, it does appear that some people have excellent manners," the imperious bird-creature says, regarding Reillana with a head cocked to the side. "I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Madame. I would use your name, but my boon companion has failed to inform me of the names of those whom we were to travel with."
"Errm," Squint grimaces at Reillana and begins hesitantly, "I forgot your name. I'm sorry."
"Typical." Ulyi begins preening golden feathers.
"Er, who's yer friend, Jake?"
"Uh, it's---"
Ulyi interrupts and addresses Barkot. "His chosen moniker is Squint. I am Ulyi. It appears that someone has finally convinced him to jettison the stupendously moronic idea of keeping me secreted away. I heartily congratulate whomever succeeded."
Squint sighs and tugs irritably at the purple handkerchief tied around his brow.
Squint? Great. Now I probably ticked off anudder guy I gotta work wit'.
"Sorry 'bout dat, Squint. Didn't know, didn't mean nuthin by it." Barkot nods to Ulyi in greeting. "Barkot's da name."
Responding to Reillana, he says, "Like you said, it ain't conclusive, but far as I know, da Tower Girls are da only gang in town dat sez 'No boys allowed' right dere in da name."
Passers-by are beginning to give the party odd looks as they stand around on the streets of the wealthy district.
"So be it, it sounds like the Tower Girls are our best bet to search, though we'll have to be careful if they're hunting her as well." She gestures a hand down the street in an 'after you' motion.
GM rolls some dice behind the screen.
Putting your heads together, you are unable to determine any information that has not already been revealed. The Tower Girls recently moved their hideout and none of you know where they are currently located.
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"I agree," Squint agrees, taking Ulyi by the reins and walking in front of him.
The bird mount initially tosses its head at being led as such, pulling the halfling off balance and onto the ground.
"Ha," the halfling laughs at no one, picking himself up. He turns abruptly to address Ulyi.
"Ilsurian." The halfling pronounces with grave import, staring down Ulyi. He takes the reins again and begins walking while making eye contact with the eidolon, this time suffering no resistance.
"Hrm."
Barkot watches the rogue walk off toward Washer's Row. Guy's been in town a coupla weeks and he t'inks he owns da place. "Perhaps," he says, den just starts walkin' like we're all gonna follow him.
The half-orc turns to Squint, about to say something along the lines of, "Can you believe dis guy?", but realizes that the halfling has already started walking after Paëral.
"Ah, Hells," Barkot mutters to himself. He shrugs at Reillana and begins walking behind Squint and Ulyi.
Typical elves. Da dame wit' da mask on creeps me out less dan da guy whose face I can see.
The party heads across the city to the Beacon's Point neighborhood and the street known as Washer's Row.
It is nearing dinner time by the time the party enters the street, but the cloying stench of dozens of varieties of industrial detergents and other chemicals drive all thought of eating from your minds.
Due to the chemical fumes, all of the businesses are open air or inside of Varisian tents, with operations ranging from industrial sail cleaning to basic clothing launderers.
Incongruently, there is a street fair set up at one end of the street.
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At the southern end of Washers’ Row, a tattered banner hanging over the entrance to the small side street advertises “Professor Callivario’s Stupendous Exhibition of the Outrageous and Sublime.”
Beyond this overly exuberant advertisement is a squalid setup consisting of little more than a series of rundown sideshow booths and carts with assorted games and amusements of the meaner sort. To one side, urchins pitch pennies at lily pads floating in a small, scum-covered fountain while a bored carnie looks on. Nearby, the sound of cats hissing and fighting arises from behind a cart where a small crowd of ne’er-do-wells has gathered to cheer and place bets.
Everywhere lurk faces pinched with suspicion or hunger—expressions worn by carnival workers and visitors alike. This is not the sort of place to be careless with a coin pouch.
The carnival barker is a stooped old man with a hacking cough who seems almost pleased to give his voice a brief rest when the party asks for directions to the Amazing Zograthy.
He still pitches his voice loud enough to be heard by other visitors, though nobody seems to much care.
"Looking to have your fortune's told *cough**cough*, friends? Or perhaps you seek a *cough* fortune *cough* of a different kind?" The man gives a sly wink.
"The A- *cough* -mazing Zog- *cough* -rathy, Seer of the Dark, is ready *cough* for you. Step right this *cough* way, *cough* friends."
Indicating a small, well-patched tent that has been crudely painted with mystical symbols and decorated with chicken bones, the man returns to calling out the various entertainments.
Within the stuffy, cluttered tent is a table covered in blue velvet stitched with moons, stars, and arcane symbols. A dusty crystal ball and a dog-eared harrow deck sit upon it. Behind this table sits an aged, bald, Varisian man with threadbare purple robes and piercing eyes.
When the party enters, the man gestures broadly and calls out in a quivering voice. "The Amazing Zograthy sees all and knows all. A double fist of silver for a turn of the cards or a vision in the crystal; a treble fist of gold for the secrets of the multiverse."
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Paëral studies the man as he listens to the pitch...
He whispers to the others, "Pesh addiction" and then directs his attention to the Amazing Zograthy...
"We have no need for drugs...rather we came for information...it is said you have many contacts among the inhabitants here...what can you tell us of a Szcarni lass known as Natalya Vancaskerkin?"
Zograthy leans back in his rickety chair and says, “Aaaah... Secrets! Perhaps my greatest trade! The cost for secrets is 50 gold.”
Barkot nods in agreement with Paëral, then scowls at Zograthy's price. "C'mon," he says, waiving the others towards the exit. "Dis mope don't know nuttin wort' 50 copper, let alone 50 gold."
Reillana cocks her head at the bizarre human, baffled by his behavior until Paëral informs the others of the man's drug addiction. Shaking her head in pity and disgust, Reillana still rolls her eyes at the carnival barker's demand for fifty gold for information.
"Fifty might be a reasonable amount for secrets, but we're only here for one. Twenty-five seems a more reasonable price, wouldn't you say?"
Barkot nods in agreement with Paëral, then scowls at Zograthy's price. "C'mon," he says, waiving the others towards the exit. "Dis mope don't know nuttin wort' 50 copper, let alone 50 gold."
Zograthy laughs. The wheezing sound is not pleasant.
"By all means, leave. You came to me, so you obviously know I am the one with the answers.""Fifty might be a reasonable amount for secrets, but we're only here for one. Twenty-five seems a more reasonable price, wouldn't you say?"
Zograthy smiles as he leans forward. "Ten or one, the price is for admission. Secrets have different value to different people, so I try not to establish a value myself."
He considers the elf for a moment. "Never let it be said that Zograthy is unreasonable. I'll lower my price to 40, if you'll show me what you hide behind that mask."
Zograthy gives Paeral a long, hard look. "Freelancers like you should watch how you address your betters."
Letting the statement hang for just a moment, he continues, "It's obvious you know who my friends are and they appreciate my abilities.
Just leave that bow on your shoulder, freelancer. I've got friends all around who can be here before you get off the first shot.
I know Natalya, certainly, and I have information. It will be for you to tell if the information is useful or not."
He glares at Paeral a moment longer, then leans back again.
Glancing down at Jacobadiah, Reillana gives him a nod and a small, unseen smile. "That's very generous Jacobadiah," she whispers back before returning her attention to the fortune-teller.
"Ten? Is that all it is worth to you? You ask for gold and our own secrets, Zograthy, but I'll only give you one. For we of the Mordant Spire, the masks are a sacred thing, though I would consent in exchange for the information we seek..."
Zograthy squints at Reillana and cocks his head to the side a bit. "Moldy Spar? Is that your ship?"