The party takes a couple of hours and leaves town heading south to the river.
They find several trails but no evidence related to their investigation. A couple party members find it weird they traveled from the south and not from the docks.
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"Looks like whoever it is doesn't want to be noticed in a busy place like the docks. Any chance this river runs through to Nirmathas?". Zavra pulls out some notes from their conversations so far and begins referencing a few books she has in her pack, quickly giving up when she realizes they don't have many detailed maps yet.
The party returns to town and heads to the docks. it is now mid-afternoon.
Prizm and Poncho manage to find a couple willing to discuss the strange disappearances of late. A man named Jonathram has not aged gracefully, despite his elven heritage. He is completely bald and wears a silver earring in one ear and a snowy white beard. He tells you:
"Thefts? I don’t know nothing about no thefts. I know about receiving stolen goods though, and I ain’t about t’get locked up on no fool charge like that. Some Varisian feller come by wanting to buy up mah vermin repellent, trying to barter off some potions or whatnot. But I sees the Glyph of the Open Road on ‘em, and I ain’t about to touch no Pathfinder stuffs, so I tell him to shove off. Boy that got ‘im real mad. He was itchin’ up a storm, he was! Must have been living in them marshes, where them skeeters live.”
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”Oh my! It is good of you to take such moral stance on something like that. I am sure the Pathfinder Soc.. err.. I mean WE appreciate that! My name is Prizm and my little dodo Bert. Please to meet you sir.”
Prizm smiles and nods vigorously at the old elf and shakes his hand for a prolonged amount of time. ”Do you have a map of those marshes? I think I want to talk to those people! And we would gladly take any assistance you could offer in terms of repellants or advice my friend.” Noticing the old elfs clothing the gnomes waggles his fingers.
cast prestidigitation to clean up the old chaps clothes
”There you look nice!”
– on the marshes
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"I think I prepared some vermin repellent for situations just like this," Zavra points out as she starts digging through her backpack, tossing aside spare clothing, rope, books and other supplies.
"So we know it is a Varisian, everyone is quite clear on that, and he is pawning off cheap loot all around town, then likely hanging out in the marshes... That still doesn't seem to give much reason why."
"Have you heard from anyone else around town that seems to have met this guy?" She asks as she pulls out a thick pouch holding 4 vials, a look of triumph spreading across her face as she straps it to her belt.
In response to the marshes question, The man only says “Shores’ lousy with marsh.”
The man eyes Zavra a moment, "Nope. Like i said - no interest in having anything to do about him."
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"No worries Prism my friend, we'll find flowers. Forests have flowers, maybe the Forest's Bounty will have some!"
Fhlangorn pulls out his dowsing rodforked stick and leads the way to the Forest's Bounty.
He leads the crew unerringly there, but it takes about twice as long as he winds his way haphazardly through the streets.
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Zavra trudges along, obviously worn out from carrying her heavy bags on such an extensive quest around the town. She looks relieved to finally drop the pack on the ground and take a seat when they arrive at their destination.
She looks around intently at the patrons, perhaps watching for an out of place Varisian, but more importantly judging which meals look most appealing.
The Forest Bounty is a popular feast hall located on the north side of Tamran. The interior of this enormous wooden long house is brightly lit and filled with the sounds of laughter, music, and merriment. Food scents mingle with the smoke of cooking fires and tobacco pipes. Servants carry food and drinks from the open kitchen area to the various wooden benches and tables that fill the hall. Many of the patrons are armed and armored, proudly bearing the insignia of local militia groups on their cloaks and tabards, along with the sword and tree symbol of Nirmathas.
As the group of pathfinders enter the hall, you are all greeted with sudden silence. Chairs grind and screech as men in uniform stand at their tables and glare at the intruders to their party.
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After a few uncomfortable moments, the music slowly starts up again and the patrons return to their merriment.
Augusta whispers over to Zavra. Why the sudden silence do you think?"
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Zavra rifles through her notes, "according to Oraiah, anytime the Pathfinder Society makes some headway in this area, it seems that slanderous rumors tend to rise up about the group sympathizing with the enemy."
"It probably doesn't help much that we haven't taken a definitive side in the war. She did point out that both sides seem to think the only solution is the complete destruction of the other, so trying to negotiate for peace and saying 'we don't want anyone to lose' is really the same as saying, 'we don't want your side to win'."
"We can test my hypothesis and see if that is their feeling...". Without waiting for a response, Zavra approaches a small table of militia. "Good evening brave warriors of Tamran, my name is Zavra, with the Pathfinder Society. Would you be willing to share your frank opinion on our organization with us?"
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”Oh my, that was rather forward – I sure hope things don’t turn ugly here” says Prizm in response to seeing Zarva speak so directly.
Walking over to another table of folks the gnome starts to smile slightly larger at each person he sees scowling. After a few moments his expression goes from looking friendly to what one might consider possessed. Blinking rapidly he shakes his small head to center himself.
”Hi! My name is Prizm and this is my friend Bert.” says the gnome pointing to the small squinting DoDo. Looking around the group gathered at the table, Prizm selects one and moseys up to him.
”What’s new in your neck of the woods sir?”
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Bert hears his master speaking to the humans, but he doesn’t care. Eyeing down the table the small bird sees his quarry. Sitting slap dash in the middle of a woman’s plate is the dodo’s favorite food – pickles.
Squinting the ninja fowl rolls under the table and weaves this way and that toward his prey.
As he passes one of the boots it moves and triggers Berts preternatural agility in an attempt to avoid being detected (kicked).
With a swift roll he arrives at the feet of woman.. who has the pickles. Hopping up suddenly on the table he snags one of the delectable morsels and tilts his tiny head sharply to one side looking at the now shocked woman.
”bert?”
Poncho approaches the stage, quickly learns the beat and begins his performance. At first he receives looks of disdain, but as the maracas start to blend with the music, the musicians all start to warm up to it. They choose a the next song to allow for more of Poncho's music.
Prizm chose to speak to a gnome who starts rambling on about this weed in his garden - just one but he can't seem to pull out all its roots and it regrows every couple weeks....
At Bert's Antics, the woman screams. "get off you dirty animal!" As she tries to slap Bert off the table.
A middle-aged man stands up, spits at Zavra's feet and storms off to the bar. The others complain: "Your Society has been aiding those Multhuni dogs! Personally I'd like to string every last one of the society up - no loss to slay an enemy of the state..."
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Zavra swallows, subconciously ensuring that her throat is still working.
"While I was just recruited to the Society 6 months ago, I have spent a significant amount of time reading over our chronicals and charters and can assure you that there is no clause about supporting the Multhani. We are actually here looking to track down goods that were smuggled past the Multhani's embargo lines to help support the citizens of Tamran. My assumption is that someone is perpetuating such slander because they have something else to gain from driving us out of this city. You didn't happen to hear any of your information from a Varisian man, did you?"
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Fhlangorn, completely out of his element and a bit overwhelmed by all the psychic energy in the room, takes a seat at an out of the way corner table where he can survey the room.
Fhlangorn orders a Mead and a bowl of unshelled, roasted nuts. He quafs a quarter of the mead while watching how the serving girls interact with the militant patrons. He takes an unshelled nut and places it in the center of the table while looking for the micro reactions of the patrons to his friends forwardness. Then he picks up his mug and slams it down on the nut, both cracking the shell and sloshing the frothy mead.
Lifting and setting his mug to the side, he traces his thick fingers through the sopping pools of mead and particles of cracked nut.
He looks up into the crowd again and asks, "Will we find what we are looking for here?"
"Oh poo, now I've just made a mess!"
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Prizm listens nodding continuously as the gnome talks about the fascinating weed, when there is a gap in his excited fellow man’s speech (it takes several minutes) – he quickly interjects ”Put some of this powdered topidula petal on the weed and it should make things very seelie! You will have to excuse me… my dodo appears to have made a new friend!”
With that Prizm runs over to try to calm Bert down and save the poor startled woman.
”You have to excuse my little friend madam, he just loves pickles… we never had anything like them back in the forest – the closest thing we could find were elderberries and honey. But that is a completely different flavor profile.. and you have to admit that pickles are pretty darn good right?
Seeing that the woman is completely unimpressed, the gnome makes a grab for the bird.
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Bert can hardly hear the lady scream as he deftly ducks her simple attempt to swat him. He was in the presence of the food he placed above all others. With a peck and a gulp one of the small gerkins disappeared with a satisfying slurp.
Hardly noticing as the woman swats at him again the small dodo executes a deft roll avoiding her clumsy attack. It was almost as if time slowed for the sake of the Dodo’s love of his food.
Suddenly his master appears and tries to grab at him – Bert hops out of reach and hisses at Prizm and realizes that his time is limited. His tiny eyes squint and with speed that defies his form, he manages to stuff no less than 8 pickles into his tiny beak and leaps down onto the lap of the now screaming lady.
”burpht!” says the Dodo as he leaps down and starts to bob and weave toward the other end of the table, his prize secured.
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”Oh dear! Terribly sorry milady! He just gets excited about.. hey… mind if I grab a pick…..” Seeing there is zero chance in that and the rest of the table is starting to react poorly to the general display of chaos. The gnome decides he should make his exit.
Prizm chases after Bert who ducks under the table near Zarva’s feet. The muffles sound of chewing and happiness can be heard from under the cloth.
”Hi Zarva, watch your feet… Bert is a bit … overactive. What’s going on here? Did we learn anything? Can we help some people yet? “
You receive some curious looks, but are otherwise ignored.
The gnome thanks you profusely for the advice.
A man steps up to the table and greets the soldiers. He appears to be a wounded veteran clad in a green cloak bearing the symbol of Nirmathas. After a brief cordial chat, he excuses himself and pulls Zavra with him. With Augusta in tow, they make their way to a far corner booth. The man walks with a noticeable limp and is missing his left arm from the elbow down.
“Now is not a good time for strangers to be asking questions in Tamran. There are rumors that spies walk among us and that Pathfinders are among those spies. I find it a little hard to believe, given Pathfinders helped me out in a time of need,” he remarks, gesturing with his hand to his amputated arm. As they are walking, Bert appears under Zavra's feet, Prizm in tow. The man appears a bit disconcerted at the appearance of the gnome and the large amount of unwanted attention the shenanigans are creating and he walks off alone toward a corner booth.
A member of the staff catches up to Prizm, and demands the bird be taken outside, and a gold piece for the Lady who's dinner was ruined.
You are invited on stage for the next set. You also see the commotion created and believe a strong performance could settle the crowd down a bit.
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Poncho feels the tension in the room--these people have fallen on hard times. It is times like these when people need a distraction to take their mind off the tribulations of daily life. Filled with determination, he knows he cannot make up a song--they deserve the only song he knows by heart.
He instructs the band on the key changes and staccato rhythms of Latin music. After the band is comfortable with what they should be playing, Poncho cracks his whip in the air to grab everyone's attention before speaking to the crowd:
"Patrons! Patrons! Patrons! Allow me to sing you a song! A song as beautiful as the sky above! I present you, Cielito Lindo!"
"De la sierra, morena
Cielito lindo vienen bajando
Un par de ojitos negros
Cielito lindo de contrabando
De la sierra, morena
Cielito lindo vienen bajando
Un par de ojitos negros
Cielito lindo de contrabando
Ay, ay, ay, ay, canta y no llores
Porque cantando se alegran
Cielito lindo los corazones
Ay, ay, ay, ay, canta y no llores
Porque cantando se alegran
Cielito lindo los corazones..."
Between verses he takes the hand of a nearby female patron and dances with her, hoping that the crowd will follow suit and dance their troubles away.
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With the rest of the bar distracted and soothed by the performance, Zavra heaves her bag and skirts the room to the crippled veteran's table. She makes sure that few eyes are on her as she sits.
"You said the Society helped you once. Can you tell me who helped you? I think that we need help now, or I don't know if we have much more of a future to be of help to the people of Tamran again."
As the one-armed man escapes away... Zavra and Augusta look at each other and at Bert. Augusta makes a quick grab at Bert and wrangles him in. The commotion has the nearby tables looking angry when the new music starts up. The crowd quickly warms up to the performance as the band acclimates to Poncho's beat.
The waiter continues to insist: "remove the bird or we will have the lot of you tossed." Prizm and Augusta talk with the waiter while Fhlangorn walks up to see what the trouble is. Meanwhile Zavra has slipped away thanks to Augusta's help.
You sit down with the man who holds his hand up to your questions. "So here is my offer. I know something of these bandits you seek, and I will tell you, but first you must drink this." he says, producing a small blue bottle from his pocket.
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Bert hardly notices being grabbed by the lady paladin, he is far to interested in his bounty of pickles. When he hears the waiter insist on his removal his tiny little eyes narrow, which is hard to see around the giant gob of tasty food in his beak.
He begins wiggling.
His little legs are pumping to no avail as he is unable to break the iron grip of the dwarf, but in the process something horrible happens.
"BUUUUURRRRRRRRRRP!!!!"
Bits of pickles fly all over the place as the noxious smell of dodo burps fill the immediate area. Bert seeing his lovelies out of his grasp continues to wiggle violently while he squawks
"bert! b-ert!"
As he trashes his little feet start to sway a bit as the music provided by Poncho calms him down.
The small dodo closes his eyes calmly and proceeds to try to dance in Augusta’s arms.
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”Terribly sorry about my little friend sir. He will wait outside, he just really loves pickles – and he loses himself sometimes. We never had those back in the forest you know.”
Prizm looks sadly at his wiggling friend.
”We really just want to help here, I think we overall the pathfinders got a bad rap. As it stands the goal of getting trade back on track and everyone making money again makes better sense.”
Looking around at the people. ”I just want to make friends…”
Prizm sadly looks at his feet.
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Zavra eyes the vial, interested. "What is it, she asks as she picks it up?"
When the man responds, she nods, picks it up, and uncorks the vial, taking a sniff.
The man reaches out, intent on taking the potion away. Zavra tosses it down her throat, not yet sure of what it is.
"My name is Zavra. You can trust me. Though I still don't know your name."
Imad asks you several questions in order to confirm your identity.
“How long have you been working for Molthune?”
“Who is your Molthuni contact?”
and
“Do any of your allies have ties to Molthune?”
Despite the bird calming down, the staff still insists, and Augusta starts to carry poor Bert out of the hall.
Fhlangorn is left looking around at the mess of chewed pickles, and seeing Poncho on stage doing his best to keep the crowd in a good mood
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Zavra is too preoccupied with exploring the effects of the elixer on her body and mind to be paying a great deal of attention to the questions. She blinks after a few moments, recovering some clarity.
"Myself and my companions do not and have never worked for Multhune. We have no contacts there, and they don't care for the Society since we chose to set up a lodge in Nirmithas."
"Was that an Elixer of truth? Do you make those? It makes my head feel fuzzy..."
He leans back and smiles. "I apologize for the zealous nature of precaution. My name is Imad Sharras. I was once saved by a Pathfinder names Marcos Farabellus".
“Two weeks ago, while my men and I were patrolling along the edge of the Fangwood south of the city, we spotted a group of bandits attacking a smuggler in the woods. We gave chase, and tracked them as they fled west, but lost the trail when they hit the river. I don’t think they simply forded or swam; I’d bet good money your bandits have a ship capable of sailing up the Marideth River.”
Prizm finds Augusta awkwardly petting the dodo bird.
"Hopefully there will be something to fight soon, in the name of the law of course." Augusta said, just as much to the Do Do bird as to anyone else.
"The smuggler stumbled off as he hunted the bandits. Maybe 4-6 of them? Hard to say as we didnt get a chance to interrogate them."
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As the dance number reaches it's epic conclusion, Zavra wraps up her brief conversation with the old soldier.
"Thank you for the information, Imad. If you hear anything more about these bandits, we would appreciate word at the Pathfinder lodge. If not, you will know we have taken care of the problem, and I hope supplies will be flowing more readily to your city."
Zavra slips away from the table and out the door, before too many people return to their chairs and have a chance to see what strangers are still in the hall.
Augusta notices Fhlangorn dancing. "Hmm, I can dance, if it will help!" She patted the Do Do bird on the head, smiled to herself and then stood up walking back inside. She taps the nearest male person on the shoulder. "Hello there! I'm Augusta, Would you care for a dance?" She said politely, but loudly with her gruff voice.
Augusta dances with a couple of eager suitors before departing with Poncho and the rest of the party.
Upon arriving at the lodge, Venture Captain Tolal sits you down to a nice dinner. "how did your investigations go today? Anything substantial to report?"
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Zavra drops her backpack and rummages through for a notebook, flipping through pages of notes.
"There are 4-6 bandits that are responsible, at least one of them a Varisian man that takes care of most of their business in town. They are likely holing up somewhere near the city and frequent marshes and swamps, as they have been eager to buy up vermin repellent. They were recently spotted along the edge of the Fangwood south of the city, attacking a Pathfinder smuggler avoiding the blockade. When chased, they headed west to the river, likely escaping by boat. It seems like the reason they don't get noticed in town or at the docs is because they have a ship that can use the Marideth river."
"So, do we head out to the river first thing tomorrow, or should we still ask around at the Last Gar?"