|
Rook's wandering interest has led him to a stack of books and pamphlets shoved untidily into a nook between two sets of shelves. He's been idly paging through a worn copy of Unbinding the Fetters (titled in Common), but is now stopped in perplexity at something that a prior owner had left bookmarked. He looks at the pages with one eye, then the other, birdlike.
The tengu's robes are plain, loose, and designed for freedom of movement. They're of sturdy cloth and solid craftsmanship, bearing no insignia. The person wearing them is at ease, moving with the grace of one who was born to it.
The other monk looks up from reading after Mai Lin has been near for a moment, greeting her with a bow as one among equals. He speaks to her in Tian.
"Of course, it's mine." he says smoothing out his moustashe, then blowing in his hand and holding it out for the guard. "The papers are time sensitive, thus why Ambrus is having you requisition them today."
However you can tell he's a practised liar, being able to work to his audience.
The reference to you being male was a practised statement to show he sees what your occupation is, but that he respects your abilities.
|
"And here I thought I was the paladin," Galfon comments with a coy grin, eying Itra. "I'm sure that the venture-captain wouldn't have handed us an assignment with an unsavory client. It wouldn't look so good for the Society, eh?"
"Now this so-called 'creep' on the other hand... perhaps we should keep ours eyes open."
|
|
Rook looks up from his conversation with Mai and adds, "We're being followed; no doubting it. There was a human after us for a bit - dust-colored everything, but craftsmen don't wear chainmail under their shirts."
|
Passio enters the store and scans the room. He is very much intrigued by all the bits and bobs he sees. He spies a well worn booklet entitled How to Find Your Perfect Love and he is reminded of his friend Jace, the cleric dedicated to love. He leaves the discussion to Itra as she seems to have a handle on things with their new task giver.
Approaching Galfon, Passio lowers his voice and says, "I should probably inform you if you have not already been advised. We have been experiencing some unusual followings. Another on our way here has occurred; I saw a man dressed in very brown and dust colored clothing. He was definitely watching us, and this is not the first such sighting of strange and unusual people following us. Please keep your guard up."
|
|
"Oh, thank you for that information. But no halfling? How odd. I must inform the rest."
Mai bows to her fellow monk and wanders through the shop, studying a three-eyesocketed skull with some interest. She drifts over to Passio and whispers, "One of our new companions spotted a man following us here, but not a halfling. The man was in dusty clothes but wore chainmail beneath them. Honestly, we seem to be attracting a parade. Soon all of Absalom will be at our heels."
She drifts to the window and peers out, trying to spot the dust-colored one or an evil-looking halfling in the street outside.
Mai dampens a corner of her sleeve and rubs fruitlessly at the dim glass of the storefront, trying to clear an area suitable for viewing but failing rather miserably.
"What? Yeah, you can tell the authorities that you are liberating books. Everything that enters the door of the warehouse had paid customs charges. Of course, Ambrus did sent you to do me a favour...." he smooths down his moustache proudly; "Alot of people owe me favours. Need to know anything else?" he asks leaning upon the counter.
"The Pelican warehouses are on the western most dock area. They perch upon the edge of piers, like the birds they are named after." he says smoothly to the tengu. A small crease in his brow at the unknown language Rook and Mai were using. "So lots of them unload from skiffs and other small boats. T' bloody increase in tax don't help, many ain't in great condition. Anyway, you'll want Pier 11."
"My associates and I work with many special relics and documents, ensuring that certain Empires aren't upset with the Societies acquisitions." He looks significantly to Eddie; "We ensure that valuable things are treasured."
|
Samara recognizes the way the man washed his hands, but says little on the matter, just crossing her arms over her chest and looking towards the others.
Samara covers her face with her hands after saying some words to Eddie.
Ask you turn to leave the Varisian man smooths his moustashe down and asks: "Anything else?" he wonders at the departing group.
~~~~
The group move down the dock area to the West, towards the Warehouses. This section of town is even more dilapidated and run down, the authorities seem to take little notice and certainly pay for no repairs. Rats scurry by openly in the streets.
The piers seem to accommodate smaller craft, or larger ones without the docking fees. Most are in a terrible disrepair, withered by storms, salt and rot.
Arriving at the end of Pier 11, to look out and see - perched upon the end of a long pier 15 foot above the water, the warehouse squats seemingly struggling against it's own roof, threatening to sag into the bay below. No light shines from the buildings windows and the only movement is as gulls and pelicans stir on the scene.
The board-walk seems sturdy enough to be traversed, however has clearly seem better days.
On the nearby piers are a couple of fishermen enjoying the peace. However this pier is still.
Plod snuffles and looks uncertainly at the wood, backing up slightly.
|
|
"Perhaps it is not deemed sufficiently valuable to guard. That notice may explain more." Mai approaches the decrepit boardwalk. "I will go read it, but it may be best if only one of us at a time is on this thing it appears rather rickety." Dropping Plod's reins, she steps carefully onto the structure.
Cautiously Mai approaches the building, the dock hold her weight with barely a groan. Certainly the structure is more solid than it initially appears. As she gets to the closed door, there is a dirty window nearby.
The sign says:
"By order of the Port Commission, for non-payment of annual fees - to the amount of 10,000gp - this builing has been closed. All work is to cease."
|
|
Mai reads the notice, then trots back to the rest where they wait.
"It says the building is closed for non-payment of fees - 10,000 gp worth of fees. Nobody is allowed to work there." She ponders a moment. "We are not being paid, so we are not technically working, I suppose. So we should be able to retrieve the gentleman's property. I did not try the door but assume it is locked. I could possibly kick it open, but perhaps somebody has a more delicate touch, to avoid damaging property...?"
Tapping the board walk with one foot, she continues, "This may hold all of us, but Plod should wait on solid ground." She finds a place to tie off the patient mule's reins.
"Heeeeee-Haaaawwwwww." Plod agrees with Mai's assessment and is happily tied off, although he does look at the reins as if judging if he could free himself.
There's the faintest of clicks as Samara's skilful and nimble fingers work upon the lock. Confident that the door is unlocked, it pushes open gently revealing the abandoned building thick with dust and detritus.
Darkness fills the warehouse, the ambient light from the outside blocked by a filthy, oily film on the structures few windows. Darting illumination comes from the light reflecting off the water through a splintered hole in the floor.Throughout the warehouse; crates, boxes and barrels lean against each other in vaguely sorted stacks. A lingering smell indicates some of the contents are certainly spoiled.
Just inside the door, lies a few barrels of beer and wine, though you cannot be sure of their freshness. To the East is a host of wooden boxes, these look like they could have been coffins from their shape. The North and South sides seem to contain a variety of boxes and crates, some contents barely visible. To the West around the corner, are a pair of double doors, heavy and used for loading from the sea.
|
|
Passio looks around somewhat nervously. All this cloak and dagger stuff sure felt weird.
Passio walks up behind Samara and pats her shoulder congratulatorily. "Excellent! Now let's get inside before our rather eclectic appearance in front of this beautifully apportioned architecture is noticed by less than savory folk."
Passio glances at the yawning darkness of the other warehouses high windows. The wood creaked underfoot as they all gathered around the door peering in. A feeling of apprehension fills the sorcerer. An electric charge begins to build up in him. He clamps down on it lest the storm inside him burst out with his comrades so close.
"Yes...inside would be best," Passio attempts to enter and get his eyes adjusted to the light inside.
There's a rail that runs from the top of the warehouse to the bottom. Obviously to load and unload cargo through the heavy doors and to the boats below. A spar is retracted inside the building in the rafters 15" upwards.
|
|
Eddie blinks then looks towards Samara when she asks if she speaks elven she nods quickly and answers.
"Oh yes... I do not want to be rude. But perhaps we can talk in our native tongue later."
She moves along with the others and watches as Samara unlocks the door, that was quite skillfully done, and much quieter than Eddie's way would have been, which would likely be to blow the door off it's hinges. Then again maybe she could concoct something that would melt away the hinges. She peers in past the others into the warehouse.
Seeing the others getting ready taking up combat stances Eddie gets prepared as well reaching for her bow.
The group move into the warehouse, there's a small knocking coming from the boxes ahead (upon closer examination they're not boxes but rude coffins). A scratch of claws on wood, something doesn't like to be disturbed....
Suddenly there's a crash, a rude coffin tipped aside slips to the floor. Underneath a matted bulk, the wane light slips across the greasy fur of the creature. A long whiskered snout snuffles, as another more aggressive creature pushes across it's back with yellowed claws. Red eyes look to the intruders and it rushes forward. This causes the others to rush after it.
The first charges out from the old timber, yellowed teeth snapping out to try and taste the flesh of the Tian monk. The others move quickly from the coffins towards the group. As the emerge it becomes obvious that they are rats, however they are the size of dogs!
MAP!: MAP
Itra rushes forward, the swords' edge pale in the grimy light. Blade cutting through the motes of dust that hang upon the air as it describes a deadly arc. With a solid thud it smashes into the thorax of the creature, with a twig snapping sound followed by a glugging noise as a sucking through a straw. The creature is smashed into the floorboards, where it lays twitching.
Mai unleashes a cunning punch, just measuring the shot to stop it short. A solid meaty thwap of flesh hitting each other. The creature snarls enraged ready to attack again.
|
|
"Aw, rats! Passio blurts out.
Instinctively, Passio raises his hand feels his power open from within. That raging part of himself that he held in check like a wild storm in a bottle, what others called magic, reached out and tried to touch one of the oversized rodents. A simple befuddling trick Passio had picked up amongst his large family, it wouldn't destroy, but it certainly would make it easier to end the threat if it succeeded.