"I can lift the boxes if you want me to..."
Cassian looks from Frankie's outstretched hand, then up to his youthful, childlike features, then back down to his outstretched hand again. Suddenly, he throws his head back and laughs loudly, but it's resigned rather than mocking.
"Cards and cocoa with blue men, children, and two lovely ladies? Why the hells not? I'm in," Cassian exclaims as he shakes Frankie's hand with enough force to rattle his teeth just a bit. "Now, what's your pleasure? Been told I play a mean game of fizzbin..."
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And so, your journey to Corentyn aboard the Sea Sylph proceeds without incident. It's smooth sailing all the way and with only one stop at the port of Merab, which Captain Zaerim informs you is a means of being able to hug the southern shores of the Inner Sea and avoid Chelish naval patrols. After maybe a week or so, you finally glide into Corentyn's harbor just before dusk. The last fiery golden rays of daylight silhouette the towering monument known as Aroden's Arch, which reaches out from Corentyn's southern wall to divide the Arcadian Ocean and the Inner Sea. Corentyn’s numerous fortifications rise behind mighty gray and brown limestone walls. Masts of ships both in port and at sea rise in the hundreds, like a legion pointing their spears toward the heavens.
While the Sea Sylph makes her final approach, Captain Zaerim orders the crew to check all of the ship's cargo and make sure that everything is orderly and presentable. As they scurry about like mice, the captain beckons all of you join him at the starboard railing.
"Just a fair warning to you folks to make sure that all your papers and other affairs are in order by the time we pull up to the docks," Zaerim advises. "The harbormaster and his deputies will be aboard to give the old girl - and all of her cargo - a thorough once-over before they let anyone set foot on Chelish soil. If you got any undeclared goods or contraband aboard, best make sure to hide 'em well or dump 'em over the side now, too. I've heard tell that any contraband aboard that's worth more than a gold piece can earn the captain 20 lashes - something I'd rather avoid and I'm sure you folks would, too."
You recall hearing that Corentyn has a relatively short list of banned or restricted trade goods. These tend to change gradually to fit mandates from Egorian, protection of local industries, or evolving standards. In large part, the customs process is more an assurance that all goods are properly accounted for and taxed, rather than a prohibition against importation.
Currently, the following are considered contraband:
(1) Scrolls and potions of spells with the chaotic descriptor.
(2) Poisons whose combined cost exceeds 150 gp.
(3) Drugs whose combined cost exceeds 50 gp.
(4) Large weapons — an uncharacteristic string of attacks has resulted in a crackdown on citizen weaponry that most assume will end in the next month or two. Until this resolution ends, only light weapons are permitted in the city limits. However, you can still declare and leave larger weapons on your ship and retrieve them later, such as when you head out for Emberhold.
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Frankie enjoys the trip, well for the most part. He does complain often about the food and the fact that he has to ration his cocoa to make it last at least until the arrive.
He enjoys playing lots of different games. He's got dice, and a deck of cards and a bag of marbles to play with anyone that is interested. He'll even play for money if anyone is interested. A few crewmates thought he was an easy mark, but his luck holds true. "Wow that was FUN, we should play again sometime. I can't believe how lucky I am, I just learn that game too!"
"Contra band? Undeclared goods? They allow cocoa and maple syrup here don't they?" Frankie fidgets nervously as the Captain lays down the law. There's NO WAY I'm throwing my cocoa and syrup overboard!
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Brayden hadn't spent much time at sea, and he found himself taken away with the scenery and soft blow of the wind. Past Osirion and Thuvia, both lands unknown to him, Brayden felt his memories become clearer, as if he were heading a direction that would solve his mystery.
Even so, no sooner had Brayden thought he'd discovered the mystery of past than Captain Zaerim prompted him, startling the samsaran. "Contraband? I've only my blade, my shield, and some basic provisions. Am I really to give up a means to defend myself in a strange land?" He protests.
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"Thank you, Meredith Ulmari, for your guidance."
Lazarus enters a timeless trance, employing the method of loci ('loci' being Thassilonian for "places") to enter his memory palace and quickly and efficiently recall relevant information.
"Corentyn has a relatively short list of banned or restricted trade goods. These tend to change gradually to fit mandates from Egorian, protection of local industries, or evolving standards. In large part, the customs process is more an assurance that all goods are properly accounted for and taxed, rather than a prohibition against importation.
The wizard-priest continues, ticking the items off on his fingers.
"Currently, the following are considered contraband:
(1) Scrolls and potions of spells with the chaotic descriptor.
(2) Poisons whose combined cost exceeds 150gp.
(3) Drugs whose combined cost exceeds 50gp.
(4) Large weapons — an uncharacteristic string of attacks has resulted in a crackdown on citizen weaponry that most assume will end in the next month or two. Until this resolution ends, only light weapons are permitted in the city limits. However, one can still declare and leave larger weapons on the ship and retrieve them later, such as when we head out for Emberhold."
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Brayden frowns as Lazarus explains what cannot be taken into town. "I'm afraid I have no choice but to give up my blade. Indeed, Meredith, we will have to purchase smaller arms. At times like these, I wish I'd been more skilled with my fists alone. Can't give up a weapon that's attached to you." He sighs, drawing the katana from its sheathe, ready to declare the weapon.
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"Oh b$$*!$~s," Dalen curses softly as she begins to swiftly unbelt her sword and free her bow and quiver from her shoulder after practically shoving her stave into the closest person's hands.
"Is this goin' t'be a problem," she asks while pulling out a relatively short, curving blade six inches from its scabbard after laying her other weapons, including her stave, at her feet. "and do I 'ave t'declare –whatever th'ells that means– it too?"
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"This is very annoying. I don't like the idea to part ways with my sword, not even for a limited amount of time," Saeran comments, shaking his head. "But we are not here to discuss. I will declare my sword and leave it on board, then buy or dagger or something like that as soon as we touch land in Corentyn."
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"Yay! Wiles!" Denair follows up on a low five. "Manufactured weapons are weird anyway."
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"Wiles is it," Dalen growls as something mischievous twinkles in her eyes. She picks Frankie up by the arms and hangs him from one of the coat pegs on the wall by his tunic.
"Hmm, you make a pretty 'andsome coat 'angin' like that," she muses before breaking out in a broad grin.
As everyone scrambles to get their weapons and other gear in order, the Sea Sylph completes her approach into the city's harbor and glides up to the docks. Almost immediately those of you still standing at the starboard railing can see a small group of people hurriedly making their way along the docks towards the ship even though the crew is still working to get her properly moored. The group draws closer and you can see that it consists of four men led by a finely dressed male halfling. When they reach the ship, the halfling fusses with a stack of papers in his hands and clears his throat to call out,
"Welcome to Corentyn! All cargo and passengers, including captain and crew, must be subjected to thorough inspection and documentation before being allowed to depart this vessel as per protocol."
Captain Zaerim sighs softly and calls back, "Aye, as you'd have it! Lower the gangplank, lads!"
The gangplank is quickly lowered and the halfling official and his deputies quickly file aboard. "Cargo first, then passengers and crew," the halfling orders his men with a curt nod. The men glance at each other, one of them even smirking a bit. "Sure thing, boss," he responds sarcastically, causing the halfling's face to flush red, before beckoning to his fellows and heading below deck.
"Hem!" the halfling clears his throat and then turns to address Captain Zaemir, clearly struggling to regain his composure. "Ah...Captain..." he consults his papers for a moment, "...Captain Zaemir, yes? Harbormaster Tamrin Credence, at your service. Not your first visit to Corentyn if my reports are correct, so I am sure that you're familiar with our procedure by now...?"
"That's right sir," Captain Zaemir replies as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out the ship's log, passing it over to the halfling. "Everything should be in order, same as always."
"Hmm, yes...yes indeed..." Tamrin murmurs as his eyes quickly begin scanning through the logbook. Then, he glances up as if noticing the group for the first time. "They would be your passengers?"
"Yes, passengers from Absalom, sir," the captain responds and you'll note that he seems to have chosen those words quite carefully and deliberately.
"Oh?" the halfling raises a curious eyebrow and then finally turns to address the group of you directly. "Is this your first time in Corentyn? Beautiful city, you know, full of opportunities for both business and pleasure. Which are you fine folks here to pursue today?"
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Frankie rushes up to greet the Halfling Harbormaster "Hey there Tamrin, you must be the smartest and most organized Halfling in the whole city to be in such an important job!" He says with mouth agape and in awe.
"I'm Frankie and the first thing I'm gonna do here, never been of course, I'm gonna head in to find the best sweets in town! Have any ideas on where that may be?" He smiles his bestest smile as he lays on the charm.
Denair keeps quiet and observes the Harbormaster, wondering why he's so finely dressed, yet out of place.
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"I'm looking forward to my first visit to Corentyn. I'm planning to do some research at the city's famed Museum of History, if the curator Zefiro Balinger will grant approval, of course. Lady Ianareth Alazario recommended I spend some time in Cheliax. I hope to further my study of the history samsarans in the region."
[dice=Name-Dropping Diplomacy to Aid the "Kid"]d20+7[/dice]
"So...a mixture, then," Tamrin responds, looking back down at his papers and making some more notations. "Unless you're the sort that enjoys study more than the average person, I suppose," he chuckles. "However, if it's history that you're after then there's no one more qualified to help you than Zefiro Balinger - from what I've heard, the man is a genius, I've been told, if a bit...eccentric." Tamrin looks up again from his papers and smiles. "Keeps odd company and the like."
To your surprise, you hear the sound of footsteps and Tamrin's men reappear from the bowels of the ship. "Hold's clean and good to go," one of them remarks, looking a bit out of breath. "Good, good," Tamrin nods in reply. "Go ahead and see to the crew; I'll be finished with the passengers very shortly."
Shrugging, the four men move to check the papers and belongings of the crew and Tamrin turns his attention back to you. "Just a few more things and you'll be free to enter the city. I'll need a list of declared goods, including any weapons that you'll be leaving aboard the ship. If any of you are versed in spellery I must inform you that the casting of any arcane spell more powerful than a cantrip within 5 miles of the Esoterium carries with it the penalty of having your hands broken and/or your spellbooks burned."
Perhaps oblivious to or uncaring of the horror that might be found in such a statement, Tamrin continues. "If you wish, you may secure a temporary spellcasting license from the Esoterium for the small price of 50 gold pieces. Similarly, if you are a priest or otherwise make use of divine spellcasting then you must register with the Harbormaster's Office...which of course, I can settle for you immediately if that is the case for any of you."
Tamrin continues to flip through his papers, running through what is clearly a well-rehearsed and oft-spoken protocol. "Oh...and last of all, due to a recent...disturbance, you will be unable to unload any supplies or cargo, beyond what you can reasonably carry in your packs or on your person, until tomorrow morning."
Looking up, he smiles at you once more. Any questions?"
Something seems strange, as Tamrin's men should have needed much more time to properly inspect the ship's cargo. It almost seems as if he and his men are in a hurry for some reason.
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"Is this your first time in Corentyn? Beautiful city, you know, full of opportunities for both business and pleasure. Which are you fine folks here to pursue today?"
"Yes sir," calmly answers Saeran with a quick nod. "What I pursue today is what I pursue everyday: the honing of my abilities." Saeran is not deflecting the question, just saying what he pursues in life in general.
Saeran declares both his bastard sword and warhammer, and sighs when he learns about the restrictions on arcane spellcasting.
I guess this is way I train both in wizardy and in swordmanship...
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"Sorry," Dalen apologies with a chuckle, "I've been told I 'ave a fey's sense of humor."
Dalen's temptation to laugh at Frankie's declaration is swiftly erased by the penalty for spellcasting and the steep price of a license. Her face pales, and she wonders if everything else in Cheliax was like this and feels that she isn't going to enjoy this trip at all.
It's not until the halfling gets to her that she realizes she hasn't answered his first question, not that he seems too upset by that, and decides that she'd be better off keeping her mouth shut as much as possible.
"Th' name's Dalen Stonestep," she says, "I've got a bow an' a long blade that I'll be leaving on th' ship. I need t' know if this one'll be a problem if I keep it with me." She points to the shorter sword at her hip, "As for me business, I'm 'ere t' 'elp keep them outta trouble."
That should keep things true enough without having to tell him about Emberhold.
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What *can* we do in this awful place?
Brayden runs a hand through his fine, silver hair. "Indeed, just as the lady said, my weapon - a katana - is in the back. Her sheathe stays with me. Or are you going to tell me those are needlessly banned too?" He suddenly chomps on his tongue, realizing he's being spiteful. "My apologies, Tamrin. I've no questions. Let's be on with it, shall we?"
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What's going on, I wonder? It should have taken much longer to thoroughly inspect the ship. Something strange is afoot.
Stalling for time to think, Lazarus reaches for his coin purse, seeking the exact change with painstaking deliberation."Say, Harbormaster Tamrin Credence, you and your team are remarkably swift in carrying out your duties."
" ...eleven silver, ten copper... eleven copper... Forgive me please, I'm certain I have the 50 gold to cover the fee for arcane casters. And what must a divine caster do to register with your office? Would it be more official, were I to register at the Harbormaster's office instead?"
Lazarus catches the eyes of the others, trying to convey his awareness that the situation is not quite right.
The samsaran cannot disguise his disquiet. He quickly hands over the 50gp to the Harbormaster and waits for instructions about registering as a divine caster as well.
"I apologize for my rudeness, this is the first time I've been subject to these sort of security measures."
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Tamrin frowns, as if Frankie had just asked a strange question. "Magic is a very powerful tool, you know. It isn't in the interests of those in power to allow just anyone free reign to utilize it within the city," he explains. As he gets to Dalen, he nods in approval as she lists the weapons she'll be leaving on the ship. "Very good, very good...and hmm, that's a gladius, yes?" he asks when she points out the shorter blade she also carries. "Classified as a light weapon so you may take it into the city with you. And yes, you may take your katana's sheath with you as well," he adds, giving Brayden something of a sour look. "Keep in mind that I don't make the regulations; I just enforce them."
Moving along to Meredith, he takes note of her longspear and heavy mace, seeming satisfied. As she and Lazarus both pull out the 50 gp fee, he accepts their fees and jots a few more notes down on his logs, taking note of their names. "...Ulmari and Logos, 50 gold piece fee paid in full and to be delivered to the Esoterium. Excellent. For those among you who are priests or priestesses, no fee is required," Tamrin continues. "Simply state your names and any affiliations you may have and they will be logged accordingly."
As his inspections and note-taking draw to a close, Tamrin looks up at Lazarus with an odd expression when he points out the rather hurried nature of the inspection. Rather than surprise, it almost seems more resigned - as if Tamrin might've been expecting one of you to point it out. "You've got a sharp eye, Master Logos. You're correct that were it any other day, this inspection would take much longer - however, we've found it necessary to make haste due to the disturbance I mentioned earlier. You see, a valuable Ulfen slave managed to slip his bonds at the Open Slave Market on a short time ago and eluded recapture by diving into the waters of the harbor."
The halfling turns and stares out over the railing at the water, alight with an orange glow as the sunk continues to sink over the horizon. "This makes it necessary to search all incoming and outgoing vessels and is why the bulk of the cargo can't be unloaded until tomorrow," he explains. "Personally, I suspect that he's likely at the bottom of the harbor by this point but orders are orders," Tamrin sighs.
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Assuming there aren't any further questions or concerns, Tamrin quickly finishes his inspection and hands each of you an itemized receipt of your declared goods. "And I believe that concludes our business," he says with a bow to the group. "Please have a pleasant stay in Corentyn and don't trouble your minds about the remainder of your belongings. I can assure you, they are in capable hands," he says, nodding his head at a patrol of Hellknights as they make their rounds through the docks. "And should you find yourself in fear for your safety, I recommend bringing your enemies to the Wicked Fork, over in the West Drenches district of the city. The food there could kill a minotaur, assuming the proprietor's endless banter doesn't do the trick first...or so I've been told."
Beckoning his men, Tamrin makes his way back down the gangplank and onto the docks proper...and then pauses to look over his shoulder. "On the other hand, I can recommend the Bee Sweet Candy Shoppe - also in the West Drenches," he calls out before turning and hurrying on his way with his men.
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Meredith waves goodbye to the Harbormaster and is all smiles until he is out of earshot. "Aw, that's terrible." sarcasm drips from her voice. "A slave may have escaped? May he find freedom, wherever he is." That smile is genuine.
She calls Denair over and scratches her chin. "Cassian, sounds like your cargo won't leave this ship until the morrow. What are your plans, today? We have a museum curator to meet."
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Frankie scratches his head a bit as the Halfling explains the magic thing "But if someone has powerful magics then wouldn't they have lots of gold to pay the fee and then they can blast away? Sounds kinda like a good way to tax people that just want to visit." He shrugs his shoulders and is quickly distracted by the discussion about the escaped slave and again by the mention of the candy shop!
"Candy Shop? Where's the West Drenches? No? Ok I'll find it myself!" He gets ready to bolt into town but waits for them to leave, turning to Meredith and the others "We've gotta help that slave guy get away, or at least make sure he doesn't drown in the harbor! I can't imagine being chained up like that, I think I'd just die on the spot!"
The internal struggle between the candy shop and trying to help the escaped slave are a true struggle on the kid. Frankie proceeds to run around the ship and look out into the harbor for signs of this Ulfen.
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Once Harbormaster Tamrin has left, Lazarus gives a rueful look at his lightened coin purse. "This is why I prefer to avoid dealing with the governments. They have perfected the art of the shakedown."
He nods in agreement with the others. "If Fate places the escaped Ulfen slave in our path, I am inclined to offer whatever assistance I can."
The wizard-priest sighs, "So many places to see, so little time in any one life to do so." Praise Desna, a samsaran has more than one to work with.
"Our first destination is the museum, no? Let's hope no Blakros is on the board of directors."
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"You do realize that helping a fleeing slave is very likely to be considered a crime, do you?," asks Saeran, a bit perplexed at his friend's intentions. "I think that we should give top priority to our task here in Corentyn, and delay everything else to a later moment. "
The half-elf glances at the halfling and his team leaving the ship. "I want to leave this place as soon as possible, I don't like the feelings it instills in my mind and my soul. I propose we go to the museum now, and deal with that other matter later, if ever."
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Saeran reacts with his proverbial calm to Meredith's passionate argument, and simply shrugs. "I didn't know about it. I see why you are so emotionally involved in this matter, now." His tone is completely neutral: he is not judging his fellow Pathfinder, this is clear from his expression, but he is not committing to aid her should the occasion arise, either.
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Frankie nods quietly at Meredith's suggestion I knew at least she'd understand... He keeps moving around the ship looking for anything in the water until the others are ready to leave. He gives the white haired guy a dirty look for his lack of empathy.
Once they get on their way to the museum however, Frankie brings up the news to people they pass by in a gossipy type of way, curious to see if anyone has any additional information. "Did you hear a big strong slave escaped and jumped into the harbor? Wow! Should I be worried he's going to grab me up and take me away as a hostage? Are you sure?"
If they happen to pass the candy shop on the way to the museum Frankie will bolt off from the group and run inside to get a few things to try out.
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Dalen's policy of keeping her mouth shut proves to be a boon as she hears about the escaped slave. She manages, barely, not to snarl at the halfling, and thankfully has her temper firmly in hand before she speaks to Saeren with cold, implacable rage.
"And why should knowin' about it make it easier for you t' see," she asks, her voice dripping with venom, "do you see people as nothin' more than how much coin you can get for 'em, too?"
She shakes her head and heads off the ship. The sooner they were done with this gilded hellhole, the better.
Lazarus pauses for a moment to think back through his memories and what he's learned about some of the landmarks of Corentyn, whether in this life or a past one...
The Open Slave Market is located very close by, just off of the docks in fact. The auctioneer, one Cordonius Mastrich, has an impressive network of buyers and sellers that spans the known world and many buyers purchase slaves from him for resale further inland, with valuable and rare slaves often offered only during private auctions. Mastrich's two chief slavers spend much of their time keeping a lid on the more uppity of their stock, though unruly customers can expect to be on the receiving end of punishment from the city's contingent of Hellknights instead.
The Wicked Fork, as Tamrin said, is located in the city's West Drenches, a shopping district that caters to the city's lower classes as well as visiting sailors. Ran by Neld Havasavu, the food is of questionable quality but the rates are reasonable and Neld is said to be quite the font of information - useful and otherwise.
As for the Bee Sweet Candy Shoppe, it can also be found in the city's West Drenches and not too terribly far from the Wicked Fork. Despite being located in the lower-class section of the city, the candy and service are surprisingly high-quality. Owned by a half-elf named Linyra Elwenys, the shop gets it's name from their signature treat - small cake pops carefully decorated to look like little bees.
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"Figures..." Cassian sighs as he watches Tamrin and his men depart, his eyes following the halfling as he and his men disappear behind one of the other ships currently moored in the harbor. "Not much left to do at this time of day 'cept go find some lodgings; my business has to wait a bit. Tell you what though, I'll head on out to the Wicked Fork and get us some rooms. How's that sound?"
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Now free to enter the city proper and get on with your business, you part ways with Cassian for now and begin making your way through the docks and towards the Museum of History, which is located in the city's High Quarter. As you walk along, you're forced to pass directly by the Open Slave Market which still seems to be in a bit of an uproar due to the escape of the Ulfen slave. The other slaves have been hustled back into their carts and cages and you can see a number of overseers patrolling the perimeter, whips hanging at their sides, while one man stands talking quietly with a small group of Hellknights. It's a sad - and for some you, enraging - sight but at the moment there's little to be done except to shake your heads and move on lest you draw too much attention to yourselves.
During the walk to the museum, Frankie plays the part of curious child, running up to various people to tug at their sleeves and ask about the escaped slave. Most of the people he speaks with are either unconcerned about the escaped slave, believing that he'll be recaptured in short order, or reluctant to discuss the subject, pulling away with an admonishing and fearful, "Hush, child! Don't draw the ire of the Hellknights!" One older woman, walking hand-in-hand with her granddaughter, does pause for a moment to shake her head. "Aye child, I heard about that business. An Ulfen slave I think it was, name of Veld. Seen him out there in the Markets while out on my errands - strong lad, least he looked it. Ones like that, they're valuable, bring in a lot of money - probably why they're still looking so hard for him. Sad business," she mutters before ambling on down the street.
Once you arrive in the High Quarter district, it doesn't take you long to find the place that you seek. The Museum of History stands nearly a story higher than the buildings surrounding it, most of which are small, cramped, and crumbling. Broad marble steps, barely dulled with age and showing only the tiniest of cracks lead to the solid, reinforced double doors. Two city guards stand at the intersection nearby, watching the tradesfolk, fishermen, vintners, and others who make High Quarter their home. Making your way up the steps, you step inside. The Museum of History’s maple plank flooring is heavily scarred with the passage of many years and countless visitors, yet it shines from recent and repeated coats of polish. A faint aroma of linseed oil hangs in the air, mingling with the familiar scent of musty, leather-bound tomes.
It's only a few moments after entering that you hear the sound of approaching footsteps from an adjacent wind of the ground floor, likely drawn by the sound of the front doors. A man dressed in green and sporting a pair of spectacles atop his long nose strides in, his eyes lighting up with delight as he spots the group.
"Ah, visitors! Welcome, welcome!" he exclaims, sounding delighted. "I am Zefiro Balinger and welcome to Corentyn's Museum of History! We don't get as many visitors these days as we once did," he explains. "Is there something that I can help you with this evening?"
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Brayden doesn't like the idea of a slave market - at all - but keeps his mouth shut. This wasn't the time to cause an uproar and ruin any potential of a successful mission.
At the museum, the samsaran greets Zefiro warmly. "Mister Balinger, a pleasure to meet you. I don't know how you live in this town and with peace of mind, and I commend you for your bravery. We're looking to gain access to Emberhold, and were told to visit you first for some historical details on the Davians. Is there anything you might be able to tell us?"
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Meredith's scowl is obvious as they walk by the open market. Denair has to keep her in check by getting her attention. It doesn't help that some passersby ask what kind of exotic pet Denair is. The woman keeps her mouth shut, but it's clear she isn't happy.
Frankie has a way with words. Plus, he's just a kid. Who would hate a kid? Veld- I'll remember that name. Maybe he escaped.
When Zefiro Balinger meets them in the museum, Meredith tries to refocus. "It's my first time in this city. It's quite... exciting."
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Frankie enjoys the walk down the streets, finally getting to burn up some pent up energy after the long voyage. His walk is more a collection of quick bursts of running back and forth, this way and that to talk to people, to chase after other children, and to look down streets and alleyways they pass. Where is that candy shop! I'm starvin here!
His energy level starts to slack a bit after the long walk across the city, especially as they pull up to the museum and not the Candy Store. "Oh, this must be the place..." He says with resignation of defeat. "Lets try to make this fast, my little tummy is empty and I think I'm gonna fall over from hunger!"
Once inside his eyes light up a bit at the sights and smells of a new place. New things to investigate and explore. "This place smells funny, how come?" He asks the man with the pointy nose and glasses.
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The Queen of Thorns. Oh no, she's getting real mad!
"Boss, Boss! Look, honey stores." Denair grabs Meredith's pants and points away from the the slave pits. She runs around the human, trying to get her attention and distracting her.
Meredith gets the hint, finally and exhales, calming down. Denair gets a pat on the head and they move on.
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As the party makes its way through the city and past the Open Slave Markets toward the Museum of History, Lazarus keeps his eyes peeled for any young, strong Ulfen males that might be the escaped slave Veld.
The wizard-priest nods along with Brayden's statement of their mission and intent. "Namaskar, Curator Zefiro Balinger. My name is Lazarus Logos," he says with a slight bow and hands pressed together, palms touching and fingers pointing upwards, thumbs close to his chest.
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The smells of the museum, in particular the scent of musty, leather-bound tomes filling the air helps make Saeran feel at home. The half-elf visibly relaxes once he steps inside, as though he had just put down a heavy burden.
"Sǣran Imledrith," he says while offering his hand to Zefiro. "It is a pleasure for me to meet you, Mister Balinger."
Saeran keeps a formal and rather detached behavior, although there is admiration in his eyes. "The way in which you keep this place in spite of its countless years of service deserves an high respect, Mister Balinger."
"We have been sent here by someone who has told us that you might have some information about Emberhold that may have evaded the official records. Is that true? There is something you can tell us about Emberhold or House Davian and its history that we would not find in any official records?"