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"Well, There can be such a thing as over medicating, but if they are needed, then this one helps relieve redness from inflamation, and this other is a general pain reliever. That one is supposed to help with coughs and sniffles, and this yellow bottle here is cat urine." Why is she keeping cat urine? Well, I suppose it keeps the rats away." ponders the cleric as he directs the others where the medication goes and how to administer it.
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Hearing voices getting clearer and footsteps approaching the top of the stairs, Tuich dashes for, and out, the back door.
"Thanksforthewateritwasrefreshingnicemeetingyouallbye!" she blurts out to the children as she leaps down the back stoop steps and dashes into the alleyway, rushing around the neighbor's residence to be leaning against a tree, idly examining her nails and whistling innocently when the remainder of the team eventually exits the orphanage.
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Feeling their task complete, Zander offers the woman a slight bow, "Thank you for your time ma'am, here is the parcel from the Silver Crusade." he says, taking the items from whomever has been carrying them. "While I can't support all of your activities, the children seem to be doing well enough. Good day."
With that said, he starts motioning for the others to leave the building so they can get on with the remainder of their tasks.
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Once outside and reunited with Tuich, who informed them of her findings, Vyk spoke.
"It's easier when they're evil," he said with a sigh.
"Rest assured that Lady Ollysta will be hearing from me about all this. And I don't know about the rest of you, but personally I would like to find something to hit. Repeatedly. This mission has left a bad taste in my mouth."
Vyk smiled mischievously. "Like sea water."
Some time after leaving the gracious Eastgate home of Auntie Baltwin, you are passing again through the Ascendant Quarter when a something disquieting happens. Eurydes, Kawrock, and Tuich notice a strange little individual - a halfling, 'handlebar' moustachioed, with wild eyes and angry, clenched fists, intently staring at the group. But, before you can react or approach, it appears that a red-haired woman in an embroidered skirt pulls him backward by the shoulder. Then, a throng of revelers passes between you and them and - they're gone...
From the bountiful chaos of the Ascendant Court you head south to south to the seedy, busy Docks district, where your directions lead you to an unassuming shop among many overlooking the docks.
This creepy shop contains myriad odds and ends, most bereft of any discernible use. A number of malformed creatures and creature parts bob in jars on a long, prominent shelf, a tiny fetal devil centered in this macabre lineup. The shopkeeper, a greasy-haired Varisian with a thin mustache, shouts from behind the cluttered counter:
“Ah yes, I see the Pathfinders have arrived. I’m glad Ambrus was able to lend a few of his new recruits to help me. Please come in and let me tell you what I need.”
Looking around as if to be absolutely certain no customers are browsing the aisles of knock-off Thuvian burial urns or supposed Azlanti porcelain, he begins again.
“Well met. I am Guaril Karela. A friend of mine has a warehouse near here and he received a parcel on behalf of me and some of my associates, but there’s a problem. See, Master Gelbane had to leave town in a hurry and our shipment is still waiting at his warehouse. Rumor is he ended up in trouble with the law and the place was seized. I heard tell from someone down at the docks that some creep was snooping around his warehouse just the other night, so I want to make sure nothing of mine was taken. He keeps all kinds of things, from beer to nails, in that old pelican, but every now and then he stores something really special. This is one of those cases.
“There’s a big crate marked with three crows arranged in a triangle. Inside that crate is a smaller container with a few books and papers in it. That’s the only parcel I’m interested in, and as far as I’m concerned, you can help yourself to the rest of the crate. Honestly, anything else you want in the place too. I’m sure the once things get sorted out, the city will seize most everything else anyway.
“My associates and I often work with the Pathfinders when it comes to special relics and documents, getting them in and out of ports and across borders where the authorities ask too many questions. Most people don’t realize what they have and frankly many don’t deserve to have it, so sometimes we help take the goods off their hands. If things work out well and you get this done, I’d be glad to talk with you more and help you out with any future endeavors, as long as you help me out too. I’m good at returning favors, trust me.”
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Zander chuckles a bit at the variance of work they have, as they go from helping sick children to sneaking into a seized warehouse to steal mostly likely smuggled goods. Having never been too fond of the laws, this matters little to him, but it should be interesting to see how some of the rest act as they seem fairly… strict. Looking out a nearby window, Zander notices a cat sitting on a fencepost grooming itself, one eye always on the party. He glances quickly at the Tengu, but says nothing.
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Adelaide listens closely, carefully keeping her face pleasant and neutral.
She smiles politely at the end of his spiel. Of course the Society wouldn't limit itself to just helping sick orphans. Helping men like this, no matter how distasteful, keeps things running more smoothly than not.. I can understand why they bother, but it seems like he's still hiding something from us.
"Forgive my curiousity, sir. Why, may I ask, do you want the help of the Pathfinder Society for this? It seems much too simple for a man like you to unnecessarily indebt himself."
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Vyk walked over to Kawrock and peered into the glass containing the
"pickled imp."
"Imps aren't really born, Kawrock, so much as stitched together from the souls of the damned. This is more than likely an aborted Tiefling fetus," he said in a cold, intellectual fashion. "So, no, you probably don't want to eat that."
Vyk then slapped Kawrock playfully on the back.
"Ah, but if I were to do it myself, who would mind the shop?" Guaril responds to Lady Adelaide, with obvious facetiousness. More seriously, "Two reasons may suffice: One, I always appreciate the opportunity to meet new Pathfinders at the beginning of long and fruitful careers, and two, I believe it does old Ambrus some good not to feel too indebted to me."
You sense he is being straightforward - perhaps uncharacteristically so.
"Besides, if you ate the imp, I would have to change the name of my shop!" Guaril has a good chuckle.
The pier this "pelican warehouse" sits on stretches 100 feet from the boardwalk and the docks proper, and stands 15 feet above the water. The planks on the pier are sturdy but weathered. A few local fishermen and some kids sit scattered along the pier casting nets or bobbing lines into the waters below.
The warehouse appears to struggle against its own roof, threatening to sag into the bay below. No light shines from the building’s windows and only the movement of gulls and pelicans stirs the scene.
A small boat bobs in the water below, tethered to the pier by a stout, salt-crusted rope.
Many of them either accommodate smaller vessels that are in a hurry or larger ships unable to find an open dock. Rare these days, most pelican warehouses lie in disrepair, withered from storms and salt, and every year it seems another one falls into the harbor.
An increased tax on this type of property keeps many of the owners from rebuilding and some have even relinquished the titles to their small warehouses, allowing them to fall into the hands of squatters and smugglers—or into the bay itself.
Smugglers sometimes use small boats to slip under the warehouse, sawing a hole in the floor or prying boards in the night, and sneaking in to loot the place or just drop a crate into their boat from above and paddle away in the night.
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Tuich remains silent as the group leaves the Pickled Imp, but seems relieved for some reason. As the group treks towards the warehouse she scans her surroundings as before but with more focus on people this time, thanks to the odd incident earlier.
"Well that place has seen better days," she says when the warehouse first comes into view.
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"I can't imagine a warehouse door being trapped, but it might be alarmed somehow. Let's see," says Tuich as she walks up to the door and examines it, casting Detect Magic in the process.
She glances over at the children and fishermen as she studies the door. "You suppose we should be doing this in broad daylight?"
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Zander frowns as he looks over the state of repair of the warehouse, and its sagging roof. ”I don’t like it. Too many of us could cause the thing to collapse, and wouldn’t that be a test of our skills. Being the heaviest of us, with my armor and all, I think I should stay out here. Perhaps manning that boat in case one of you fall in.”
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"I'm guessing this is the kind of neighborhood where folks look the other way, Tuich. And if you want to get technical about it, we are here on official Pathfinder business."
Vyk smiled at Zander.
"Appreciate the concern, priest. But I'd be more worried about you sinking the USS Leaky Death Trap, with all that armor. Still a lookout isn't a bad idea."
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Looks at the building at the end of the warf, and pauses to contemplate something.
"I agree that this place looks to be in poor repair, but why is it called a pelican? It looks nothing like a bird."He shrugs his shoulders."Well lets see if we can get past the first obstacle. Then we can see what we have to deal with inside."
He walks up to the door and takes a look at it for anything unusual.
Tuich doesn't detect anything magical, scanning what she can of (and through) the door.
The small boat does seem watertight and seaworthy, and would likely hold several persons' weight just fine. At this tide, at least, the small boat would be able to fit completely under the pier and the warehouse.
You don't see any signs of anyone having fallen through the boards, and they are stronger than they might first appear, at least along the pier.
After giving the door the onceover and not finding anything unusual, Kawrock finds that the door is locked, but it opens easily with his lockpicking efforts.
Darkness fills the warehouse, the ambient light from outside blocked by a filthy, oily film on the structure’s few windows. However, coming from around the corner is a darting illumination, likely light reflecting off the water through a large hole in the floor. A lingering smell indicates some of the contents of the warehouse are certainly spoiled.
Peeking in and around, you see that just inside the door sits a handful of crates and kegs of beer. Most of these smaller crates and barrels contain foodstuffs in various states of freshness. Some crates reek of rot. Stacks of simple coffins sit against the east wall.
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"Did you have to say that?" she chides Vyk. "Now I'll be seeing zombies around every corner!" Keeping one eye on the stacked coffins, she whips off the scarf wrapped around her waist, holding it in both hands.
"If there really are undead here I have an effective weapon, but it takes time to prepare. So if I back away when the rotting corpses attack I'm not... you know, being a coward or anything. I have a little experience with undead and spirits and such."
A brief breeze buffets her hair and silks. "Can it!" she hisses under her breath.
Tuich carefully moves into the warehouse, looking about for the desired crate.
Throughout the warehouse, crates, boxes, and barrels lean against each other in vaguely sorted stacks. The rest of the crates stacked along the north and south walls contain - judging from stamps and spilled contents - simple sundries including, but not limited to, beer, blocks of clay, coffee, coils of rope, dried fish, lead ingots, nails, nets, raw cotton, rough wool, spare sails, timber planks, various pulleys and tools, and cheap weapons.
A crane, used for loading and unloading boats, clings to a rail running the length of the warehouse, hanging 5 feet below the high ceiling, and it appears that it can slide out to extend past the loading doors along the west (bottom) wall. There is a large hole in the floor towards the southwest corner through which the reflected light is coming.
Perched in the middle of the hole, teetering on split planks, sits a large crate stamped with three crows arranged in a triangle — the very crate you have come to find. Handholds cut into the stout wooden crate ring the rim.
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"Hmm, knew I should have prepared Mage Hand. But you never think you need it til you do."
Vyk sighed.
"Guess one of us is going in that boat after all. We need someone to catch it in case it falls. Actually, probably should be two. Anyone want to volunteer to teeter on the razor's edge of oblivion out there?"
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As the team moves through the warehouse, certain crates catch Tuich's eye. "Psst, Vyk," she whispers as she nudges the Tiefling, pointing at one of them. "Beer!" She also makes a mental note of the crates containing tools and weapons for future reference.
And then, clearing enough of the stacked containers and coming close enough to see The Crate of Three Crows, she offers a frustrated exclamation.
"Oh, great. Just great!"
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"Psst, Vyk," she whispers as she nudges the Tiefling, pointing at one of them. "Beer!"
Vyk looked at the case sadly. "Beer spoils if it's not kept cold, my dear. Such a shame."
"Mage Hand? I never leave home without it. What did you have in mind?"
"You are full of surprises," Vyk said with a laugh. "Well, we could have someone positioned below with the boat. And then we simply nudge it with Mage Hand. No muss, no fuss.
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Tuich steps cautiously near the edge of the hole in the rotting floor and peers down, judging the distance down to the water.
Watching the crate waggle up and down on the planks supporting it she comments, "Well I'm happy to do that, but I think a good stomp on one of these planks will break it and serve the same purpose."
She studies the crate. "How much do you think it weighs? I'm a little concerned about it crashing right through the bottom of the boat, or hitting off-center and tearing a side open, or landing on one of our crew." She giggles. "I mean, I'm sure we all want to make a big splash in the Society, but really!"
Turning to Vyk and pointing past him, she continues. "That crate over there says it's full of rope. How about I TK a length around the crate instead, we tie it off and try to slide yon box along these planks until it's on solid flooring? Worst case the boards break, but it'll be tethered and we can still lower it down to the boat. You know, gently?"
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Seeing as Zander had already gone down to check out the boat, he completes the preparations for using the boat; removing his armor and gear, tying it up in his cloak and then attaching it at the eld of the rope to his waist. While doing so he tosses quick glances around to see if any of the women are observing his muscular form.
He then rows the boat out to under the storehouse and waits for the others to make their play.
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"I suggest we move inside, as to not draw more attention to ourselves. A large group gathered at a seized building tends to look suspicious."
Adelaide attempts to appear as inconspicuous as possible; she suddenly feels very much out of place as she glances around. My armor's too... shiny, she thinks, a bit embarrassed.
She keeps her eyes trained toward the people walking in and around the rest of the docks, paying attention to anyone who watches them closely or seems ready to approach them. Her ears listen for any sudden change in the banter of the three inside.
"I never did like boats much," Adelaide comments off-handedly to Zander before he rows away.