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Rumble seems to only hear one word. "A DRAGON YA SAY? RUUUUUMBLE TA THA RESCUE!" he roars as he begins to draw his weapon and march to the kitchen. Seeing Thranalas begin talking though, he pauses for a moment and prods him delicately with a finger. "Er... Um... Elf-person! I don' think ya 'eard wha they ha said, they 'ave a problem wit a dragon an said 'twas in tha kitchen. Can we go now an talk ta them later?"
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Pavo eyes the wealthy homes they pass with a calculating expression. "Oh, the trouble," he murmurs to himself and then strides on down the road.
Once inside the Frisky Unicorn, the bard listens to the two guests and then heads towards the kitchen. "Wait, Rumble, stow your axe for now," the rake cautions. "Violence against the little dragons might be the very calamity we're here to prevent."
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Anastasia pulls out a pen she had stuck in her hair, and starts taking notes."Not us, but can do. What, where, how, why, when?" she blurts out a quick string of question words. She waits a short moment for an answer, then restarts, slower.
"What we exterminate? Dragons or something else?"
"Where? Kitchen only, also cellar or other rooms?"
"How? Kill, chase away, capture, or just anything?"
"Why and when they came? Must prevent return."
The man and woman gape at the group for a moment. "I say, they sent quite the eclectic bunch today did they not?" the man remarks in what might as well be a stage whisper to his grape-like companion. "Mmm, yes, indeed, but they are exterminators - it would take an eclectic individual to willingly pursue such employment would it not?"
In unison, they turn back to the group. "Did Cadmion not inform you?" the woman asks, looking rather surprised. "His pets have started running amok - since late last night, actually! Smashing windows, throwing things, and generally being a nuisance to the guests and staff."
"Yes, quite a change from their normal behavior, I've been told," the tall man chimes in. "Usually they are quite docile and curious - this establishment's star attraction. A pity that the full moon has sent them into such a frenzy."
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For those that proceed on towards the kitchen you make your way through the dining room, spotting another open set of double-doors on the opposite side, leading southwest. You also notice that there seems to be a small crowd of what look to be servants standing around in the hallway just beyond, whispering among themselves. As they see you, their mouths drop open in astonishment but then they quickly move and clear a path for you as you make your way into the kitchen.
The kitchen is a mess, with pots, pans, and bits of food strewn everywhere. A large, burly man with an impressive handlebar mustache, a rolling pin gripped in his hand, stands facing another man, this one slighter of build and balding.
"And I'm telling you that your mistress will be served when all of the other guests are served," the mustached-man insists, choosing his words slowly and deliberately. His face is flushed and it seems clear that he's trying his best to keep his temper in check.
"Impossible! Inconceivable! Lady Qualstair surely outranks all others here in importance and appetite," the balding man retorts, eyeing the other man's rolling pin nervously. "I must insist that my mistress receive her meal first..." his voice trails off as both men suddenly notice Pavo's entrance into the kitchen, with Dwozer and Rumble right behind. "Er...who are you?" he asks.
"That's the first thing to come out of your mouth all morning that's made a lick of sense," the mustache-man retorts as he turns to face the group. "Are you here from the Acadamae? Don't know why you lot decided marching back here to the kitchen made any sense, but what do I know about mages and their ways? Wait right here - don't touch anything - and I'll go fetch Mister Cadmion."
And with that, big and burly heads out of the kitchen, presumably to fetch the inn's owner.
A rather awkward moment of silence passes before the balding man coughs. "Here about the little beasties, eh?"
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"We are here to put an end to the troubles, though it seems that there's more than just the psuedodragons that have gotten their blood in a boil. Is there any chance that we could persuade everyone to go back to the designated locations while we take care of the excitable little dragons? It truly would make it easier for us to work," the bard implores the incensed aid and the gawking servants.
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"If ah knew we woulda bin gabberin all the damn day, Idda stayed on tha ship! WHERE. AH. THA. DRAGONS!" Rumble begins to shout a little, growing desperate for the opportunity to earn the honor and fame that only a dragonslayer can have.
He approaches a servant. "Ya see this hair? An this beard? Only a mad man or tha best warrior ya evah, EVAH seen woul' do sucha thing!" he rambles, getting what is likely a little close for comfort to the poor sap.
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The balding man shrinks back a little as Dwozer gets uncomfortably close to him and he looks the taciturn man up and down. "Ah...yes, yes, quite..." he coughs and then nearly jumps out of his skin when Rumble begins to raise his voice.
As you watch and listen to the balding man, Zeeva's words from earlier drift across your mind.
"The Foreign Trader - representation of spies, merchants, and others who truck in information. Just as I said to Master Sarzuket, information is knowledge and knowledge is power. And sometimes the best way to learn something new and important is to simply watch and listen."
This man is acting much more twitchy than the situation seems to warrant. You get the sense that he knows something about what's happening within the Frisky Unicorn.
"P-please sir, while I am not an employee of this establishment I still insist that you remain calm," he pleads. "Master Cadmion will be with you directly. Have some patience!"
"Ah...at any rate, since this business with Cadmion's little beasties is none of my affair, I will leave you folks to do...whatever it is that you plan to do," he continues, heading towards the door. The other servants peeking into the kitchen also quickly fall back, lest Dwozer turn his stern gaze upon them...but you're pretty sure that they're still trying to listen in from the hallway, judging on the half-whispers you can hear.
"Did that dwarf really say he's looking for dragons? Like, actual fire-breathing dragons?"
"He did! Poor sod got bad information if he came expecting to find the real deal HERE of all places..."
"Forget the crazy dwarf...I still can't believe that Craik just went barging in there trying to tell Lomen his business! Doesn't matter if Craik's a big fancy chef for his mistress, you don't just try to take over another man's kitchen like that!"
Meanwhile, Sarzuket begins to scan the kitchen for magical auras...
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Anastasia sits at a table, writing notes from the information this far, and talking to herself.
"Pseudodragons. Pets. No kill? Fly? No grease. Stun, spray. Claws? Kill fast, capture slow. Danger, armor. Cadmion, owner."
She spreads out her scrolls and wands on the table and looks at them for a moment. Looking disappointed, she shakes her head and utters: "More. Need more." She grabs one scroll and reads it, and same magical effect as with Thranalas embraces her. The rest of the magical gear she stuffs into her belt.
After what feels like ages but in reality is likely only a minute or two, a rather harried-looking man comes striding into the kitchen followed by the still disgruntled-looking mustached man who must be Lomen. "That's them, sir. I told them I didn't know why they came back to the kitchen first, but at least they showed up," Lomen explains.
"It's fine Lomen, they were probably just anxious to get started," the harried man replies before turning to the group and bowing.
"Greetings! I apologize for the wait; Lomen had to run and fetch me from my office," he says. "I am Oliver Cadmion, owner and proprietor of this establishment and it is a pleasure to meet you. I have to admit, I was a little surprised that you arrived so quickly - I've heard that it normally takes ages for the Acadamae to send anyone!"
Acadamae? None of you are from the Acadamae...
You know the Acadamae is a wizard's college within the city. While it teaches all eight schools of magic to its students, it specializes in conjuration magic.
Meanwhile, Sarzuket finishes his scanning of the building and to his surprise (or not) he doesn't detect any magical auras within.
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"No, I was not trained there, but I find their focus on rushing details and their comfort with certain specializations to be misaligned with more erudite sources."
Thran takes a deep breath, "...We're better than the Academae, now give us the details, point us towards the problem, and see it go away."
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Anastasia stares at Rumble wide-eyed. "School? Waste? Maybe basic classes, but research new, here", she starts and pulls a paper full of incomprehensible notes, and continues pointing at various markings: "This spell, I look here at structure, if we split it in two parts, and use only one and add this gesture here, connecting with this, we should get new effect. Exiting, yes?"
"Not from the Acadamae, but you say Miss Foxglove sent you here?" Cadmion repeats, looking quite surprised. "To stop some sort of calamity?" He pales. "While I'm sure many might not think it so, if I can't get a handle on my dragons then it could spell ruin for the Frisky Dragon," he explains, wringing his hands. "They're normally quite docile but every since last night something has them in an uproar and I've not been able to figure out what or get them to tell me, either."
Cadmion seems to consider his options and then nods resolutely. "Well, this wasn't what I expected at all...I'd been expecting the Acadamae to send a team of pseudodragon experts to help me sort things out," he explains. "But the fact of the matter is that you are here and they are not, plus you have come with Zeeva Foxglove's backing. You all look capable enough and some of you seem blessed with a gift for words as well," he nods at Pavo. "If you're able to resolve this matter for me without harming my dragons or driving them away," here he pauses and gives Rumble what can only be described as the proverbial hairy eyeball, "then you'll all have lifetime room and board here at the Frisky Unicorn, any time that you're visiting Korvosa. And I'll even throw in a small gold statuette as well, worth a pretty penny in its own right."
He pauses for a moment. "Is this agreeable? And if so, do you have any other questions for me? I'll cooperate in any way that I can if it'll help you get this mess settled quickly!"
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Rumble's eyes glaze over almost immediately when Anastasia presents her notes. "If tha is wha school does to ya, I nevah been happier bout skippin!" he remarks, slapping his thigh heartily and bursting forth with a mighty laugh.
And now he is taking away the killing too? If we are going to stick to just talking, then I better get that joke in now before I forget. "An wha' abou the women ya keep? Aye heard ya ha'e some ladies oh the nigh' as it were. They came highly recommended, they did haha!" Rumble jests, paying particular attention to the face Cadmion makes in response.
"Well...most of the staff would've return to their homes for the evening," Cadmion begins, clearly counting off a mental checklist as he speaks. "The ones still here would've been Genevieve, at the front desk, Simon our porter - since we sometimes have guests arriving very late into the evening you see, um...Lomen's assistant Duane, to whip up meals for late arrivals if they like..."
"As far as guests are concerned, there's Lord and Lady Digby, whom I'm sure you saw lounging in the lobby on your way in, Bartholomew Charmant, a merchant from Magnimar, Arabelle Asquith, a top hound-breeder...oh! Last, but not least, there's the Lady Qualstair and her manservent Craik," Cadmion finishes. "I myself wasn't here last night as my own home is nearby."
He seems ready to add sometimes else, but Rumble's question catches him completely off-guard. "Wh...I don't...we don't..." he splutters, his face changing shades until poor Cadmion appears to be doing his best to mimic a tomato. "This is not that kind of establishment!" he finally exclaims, shooting a rather embarrassed look at Anastasia. "I don't know what you've heard about the Frisky Unicorn but I can assure you that we are a fine, upstanding establishment! If you are that desperate for companionship sir, I am sure that you can find such elsewhere in the city...now, can we please return to the matter at hand?" Cadmion finishes, a plea in his tone. You're not entirely sure, but you think you might hear the sound of snickering from somewhere out in the hallway.
"Hem! As I was about to say," Cadmion continues, clearing his throat, "you might also go pay my dragons a visit yourselves. They live up in the tower, you see, and they're quite intelligent little creatures. None of the staff have been able to get near them since last night and neither have I, but perhaps they'll be willing to speak to you?"
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"Hopefully," Pavo says in response to the suggestion that the dragons might speak with them, ignoring Rumble's ill-timed jest and its result with a straight face for the sake of diplomacy.
"Craik? He was that fellow causing a fuss with your cook when we arrived?" the bard tries to clarify. "What could you tell us about his mistress?"
"Lady Qualstair?" Cadmion wrinkles his nose slightly, though he doesn't seem to be aware of doing so. "She can be...difficult, at times. Her tastes are very particular and so..."
"The damned fool insisted on preparing her breakfast himself, even though they're staying here," Lomen butts in. "Claimed anything I could do wouldn't be good enough. And he also wanted free run of the kitchen so his mistress could be served first, before the other guests! He can do what he wants when they're at home but this is my kitchen and I'll run it how I see fit," the cook finishes in a huff.
"Er, yes...I do trust Lomen's talent and judgement when it comes to the kitchen and so I largely leave its management in his hands," Cadmion nods in agreement. "Besides, if we were to allow one guests's servant to cook within our kitchen they'll all be wanting to do it. Too much hassle, too many people underfoot."
"Anyway miss, Lady Qualstair and Craik are our only new guests staying right now," he continues, giving Anastasia his attention. "The others have stayed with us before."
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Deciding that it might be best to try and hear the story straight from the horse's mouth, so to speak, the group decides to make their way up to the tower where the pseudodragons live.
As the group files out of the kitchen, you suddenly feel a tap on your shoulder. Turning, you spot the balding man - Craik, standing just outside the kitchen door. He motions for you to join him a bit further down the hallway and out of earshot and eyesight of everyone else.
"Sorry to bother you, but I couldn't help but listen in on the rest of your conversation with Cadmion," he whispers. "My name is Craik, and I'm the personal chef for Lady Qualstair, who is lodging here right now on a visit from Taldor," he explains. "And I've got an offer for you. I can't offer you lifetime room and board in a fine establishment but I'm willing to top Cadmion's monetary reward if you'd be so kind as to retrieve a single pseudodragon egg for me, for my mistress's sake. What do you say?"
As you make your way through the lobby, the two armchair commentators are still lounging there on their sofas and watch the group with interest as they make their way up the stairs leading to the Frisky Unicorn's turret.
"See? I told you that they're exterminators," the tall man comments. You hear the purple-clad woman make a reply but whatever it might be is lost as you head up the stairs.
The group winds their way carefully up a single-file spiral staircase that circles around and around until you reach the top of the landing. A single closed door lies just ahead and from beyond it you can clearly hear the sounds of the pseudodragon's agitated shrieks and growls.
As you ascend the stairs you notice what looks to be the leathery, spotted remnants of a shattered egg lying on one of the steps.
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Pavo steps to the tower door and knocks.
"Ahem. I believe you can understand me--I think you speak or at least understand Taldan--and I just wanted to let you know that we're not affiliated with anyone or anything that's been going on the past few days," he projects loudly but calmly. "We're just here to hear your side of the story and try to help where we can. So, ah, please do not bite me when I come inside."
He clears his throat and continues, though it seems more for his own sake than to the little dragons, "And if you cannot understand me, then I guess that I've just been negotiating with this door for not useful reason, and you'll probably bite me as soon as I open it. That would be really disappointing--and painful--for me."
He then calmly opens the door.
With the door opens, he purses his lips and whispers to himself, "Oh, dear, they might be entranced or drugged and not in control of their actions. Why am I in front?"
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Thran points out the egg, and uses a simple spell to float it up to eye level so he can identify it, and try to glean anything useful from it's state , but his distraction throughout the conversations continue into his examination. He floats the egg to anyone else interested in looking.
"Eggs mean either young - good news, or a mother - bad news."
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Having found a mug of ale somewhere, Rumble pulls it away from his mouth, gets his face really close to the egg shells, and squints really hard. "Aye cannae say wha tha is, elfy man. Aye saw em too, bu' though' they was a buncha pieces o' broken leather. Aren' they a lil small fo' dragon eggs?" he inquires. At least I have ale now, makes the killing better when it happens.
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"Why...she wishes to adopt one, of course," Craik replies smoothly. "Surely Cadmion has room for only so many of the creatures here in his establishment, after all. Lady Qualstair is such a giving woman that she would much prefer to take one off Cadmion's hands and provide it a good home rather than risk letting those snobs from Acadamae take it...or worse!"
The delivery was smooth but Craik's eye was a bit twitchy just now. It seems quite likely he wants one for some other purpose than adoption!
Pavo - and Dwozer - speak aloud to the closed door in front of the group and as they do, the growling and shrieking grows quiet. But nothing else happens. Both man and dwarf are certain that they've been heard, but understood? That is a little less clear.
Meanwhile, Thranalas and Rumble both point out the shattered egg remnants lying on the stairs. As Thranalas magically lifts them up for a better look, Anastasia can confirm that the shell fragments are that of a pseudodragon egg. Strange to find one broken out here on the stairs, though.
It's about this time that Pavo decides to calmly open the door leading into the room. Designed to emulate Castle Korvosa's Seawatch Tower, the turret is cramped but has a high ceiling with wooden rafters crisscrossing overhead. Slim windows offer breathtaking views of the city and beyond. The furnishings here are covered with drop cloths, which are themselves bedaubed with many seasons' worth of dragon droppings. And, unsurprisingly, you also see what looks to be a small, cat-sized reptilian creature perched about 20 feet up in the rafters in the center of the room, watching you intently.
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