As the party, in two groups, looks for Raimondo Scevola, you try to blend in. You see many merchants, occasionally a group of tribesmen, and plenty of pirate-types as you explore.
Krya's information gathering skills work to your benefit. Bloodcove boasts only one man both willing and able to guide a caravan without knowing the destination: Raimondo Scevola. For a group of paranoid sages, this seems appropriate! She further determines that Raimondo at a small private club called the Wandering Way, located on the edge of Free Trade Square. You head there and enter.
The humid stink of Bloodcove mingles with the reek of sweat and the sickly-sweet odor of tropical plants and exotic tobaccos. The foyer of the guild house looks more like a tavern than a place of business, with tables carved from dark jungle woods and overstuffed cushions. Older men and women mingle or brood over their drinks, while strapping young toughs claim the area around the cold hearth.
Across the room, a swarthy, moustachioed man bellows in anger. He sweeps an arm across the tabletop shared with a redcheeked companion, spilling drinks and playing cards onto the carpet. “You bashterd,” he drunkenly shrieks, “You scheating bashterd, Elanzo! I need thoshe animalsh! I have a client whoshe paid fer my caravan!”
His companion wrings the remains of his drink out of his shirt. “No one cares, Scevola. Those were the stakes, and your horses will be chow for my men before we set sail in the morning!”
“You shlipped shomethin in mah drink! You’re taking my horshesh over mah dead body!”
Elanzo simply shrugs at this and snaps his fingers. The large brutes gathered by the hearth stand up and begin moving toward the pair.
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Thorn is NOT a talker. He stays just outside, hopefully no one notices him yet.
-Posted with Wayfinder
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Kyra shoots Wyatt with her eyes, and starts to walk in the direction where Raimondo is sitting, while approaches to the man who is with him.
"Excuse me, Sir. Forgive me if I'm not correct, but you are Elanzo, right? I paid for the services of this drunk man, and I don't wanna loose my money. Is there another way to we solve this impasse? May I buy you a drink? - She smiles to him while speaks.
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Vimar confidently assumes the air of a wandering sage. It is close enough to his usual identity of a wandering priest. He does make sure to tuck his holy symbol of Desna into his undershirt, but otherwise walks calmly and is talkative with D'lack and Kyra.
Upon reaching the tavern and hearing Kyra intervene, he jumps in, telling the man "Surely we can reach some sort of accommodation. I think we've hired the same horses you intend to make a meal of."
While the party is a little surprised at your arrival, your diplomatic approach seems to be calming the situation.
"Your beef here is not with me, but Scevola. He just gambled his horses and lost, and I mean to settle the debt."
Looking you over, he adds, "I figure these horses are worth 300 gold, so if you want to pay his debt, he can avoid his well deserved beating... and keep his horses."
Kyra flashes a smile and her calm way, and she is able to negotiate the price down to 150 gold, and Elonzo is currently friendly. Scevola starts blubbering his thanks.
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"150 gp sounds fair to me. Let me check it with my comrades".
Kyra calls D'lack and Vimar in an opposite corner and asks "so, I have 6 gp... we need 150 gp to not split blood in this place. Aram Zey said: 'If you dip into your own resources and manage to survive, the Society will attempt to reimburse you', this is the time. If any of you have this gold, pay that man and we'll solve this problem without make fanfare".
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I have enough money to pay the man. I was saving for my next buy but you're right It will be better if you do it quietly.
"Thank you, D'lack", greets Kyra.
With the 150 gp offered by the sorcerer, the cleric goes to Elanzo. "Here is your payment for the horses. Thank you for the goodwill, Sir. Now, let me take this drunk bastard to his home, he have work to do".
After saying this, Kyra will take out Raimondo of that place in safety, with the aid of Vimar and D'lack.
A little louder than you are comfortable with, he says "Sssurre, one sup... sup... supplier ish as good ash another, suppose..."
He stumbles off toward a back room. "I just need some rest, then I'll be ready to get your supplies and go."
He is clearly pretty drunk and not going to be of much help for a few hours.
Surrounding a sprawling, two-story trading post is a mass of citizens and merchants alike. Some wear worried expressions and wring their hands, while others shout angrily at a welldressed young woman by the entrance.
“As I said,” shouts the Cartahegn spokesperson from atop a wooden crate, “all Cartahegn resources are needed to deal with this emergency with our sugarpress, and our storefront is closed for the remainder of the day or until management resolves the situation. We apologize for the inconvenience, but for now please return to your homes and places of business.”
As she climbs down, most of the grumbling mob begins to disperse.
"Seems like they have an ant problem or something," one man says.
Another woman chimes in. "It isn't good. House Cartahegn controls most of the food trade in and around Bloodcove. Their warehouses keep most of the city and the ships that frequent its harbor from starving to death."
The young spokeswoman that made the announcement heads inside.
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Before went to Cartahegn House, Kyra says to the others: "my friends, we made a plan before went to this city. Some of us will be sneaking and others speaking. Just let each do their job, right?", she looks directly to Wyatt in her final words.
"Ants, hm? Maybe we should offer some help to solve this. They can see us with good eyes in the trade for supply".
The cleric will knock at the door where the young spokeswoman passed by.
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Vimar adopts his guise as a scholar again on the way to House Cartahegn. Along the way, he looks for friendly scholarly sorts, probably a rarity in Bloodcove, smiling at them and learning about the libraries and museums of the city (a quick task).
Hearing of the ant problem, he agrees "Surely we can figure something out to help them with the ants." When Kyra goes to knock on the door, he joins her.
“Oh yes,” says the well-dressed woman of barely twenty summers. “This ant situation in the sugarpress is dire! We’re losing thousands of pounds of sugarloaf an hour, and frankly I doubt we’ll be able to turn these clicky beasts back. We expended all the available sword arms just chasing the monsters back into the basement. If more ants show, we’ll surely lose the entire mill. I hope you aren’t here to buy food, because if Cartahegn must continue to devote all its resources to fighting off the ants, expect food prices around Bloodcove to triple overnight!
“A shame we have no more soldiers. An idea came to me, you see—my housekeeper makes a sort of lotion that frightens bugs away, and I bet if someone dumped a load of it in the ants’ tunnel, it would keep them away until we could brick it up! You didn’t happen to bring any guards or soldiers with you, did you? If you were hoping to buy food and are willing to help us out, I promise you quite a discount in exchange for your services once we’re open again.”
She leads you to the basement. After the humidity above, the stark dryness of the basement stands out as unsettling, almost as unsettling as the acrid smell and constant, methodical clicking emanating from the darkness. The remains of bags and crates lie scattered across the floor amid a sea of grayish dust.
The back room is the furnace room, and there are still a few giant ants left.
Thorn is able to enter the room undetected.