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Orin feels his ire being raised by all this talk of buying and selling people. Knowing that outright hostilities here won't be helpful, he just stands trembling with anger, but keeping his hand away from the handle of his sickle... His face though is a mask of rage, and his greyish skin is flushed almost red as he bottles up his furious hatred for these 'businessmen'. He stands mute, but ready for action should there be a call for it.
Fortunately, Rogzul's quick reminder of a deal confirmed and profit to be had make Greeves slowly relax, albeit with a little 'hmff.'
"Yeah.... fine. Take Xarcious and go, will ya?"
The two thugs drag out an elderly man who is clearly in poor shape, with the signs of both recent beatings but the look of illness on top of that. Coughing weakly, the wretch gathers his ragged clothing around himself as he blinks confusedly in your direction.
"...he-hello? You've-- really bought me? Oh..."
"Yeah, I dunno why either," Greeves says. "Still, you're all theirs, Xarcious. No refunds, friends!"
The old man squints in the sunlight outside, his skin pepped with bruises and his eyes bloodshot. "...dare I ask... what you are going to do with me?" he says, with nervous looks at the more... violent-seeming people in the group.
Xarcious's head goes back and forth between Rogzul and Orin, but the word 'free' has his attention no matter who says it. "You simply wish to-- to find the Dragons? And then I am free?" He nods eagerly, then descends into a ragged coughing fit.
"I can certainly tell you about them," he manages when he's stopped his weak hacking. "Why, I spent the better part of several years among them--"
The story is frequently interrupted by the old man's fragile state, but he relates to you that the chief, Kibizax, is getting quite old now, and probably is likely to turn over the command of the tribe to one of the two children that Xarcious had been hired to teach: either Yippitok, the son, who according to Xarcious is an alchemist as well as a trap-master, or Yiddlepode, who followed in the arcane arts like her father.
"Yiddlepode is much easier to deal with," Xarcious wheezes. "She's fascinated by human culture, while Tok is... less... open-minded, shall we say? Yiddlepode loves the theatre, of all things-- I would read to them plays, you know, when she was just yea-high from an egg, to help teach her Taldane, and she -kof kof- -- she got very into them. She actually convinced her father to expand their... their territory to include an underground -kof kof- theatre... and she comes up to take in the air, and the shows, up above ground.
"...in disguise, of course," the bedraggled ex-tutor adds on. "At least, she used to. It's been -kof kof- several years since I saw her. I know the entrance to get in, but it was guarded in -kof kof- those days, and likely still is.
"If you want my advice, you'll try and catch -kof kof- Yiddlepode above ground, at a show. Despite the disguise, she might be easy to spot: when we -kof kof- parted, I gave her a pretty, bright blue cloak, which she adored and swore to wear everywhere. Charming child, for a reptile," the tutor sighs. "You might be able to talk more freely with her out of the eye of the rest of her tribe, and her father. Or... ah... if your intentions are more violent, then I suppose you might... have a hostage. For leverage."
Xarcious looks briefly unhappy at that thought, but then descends into an extended hacking fit that lasts for a full minute.
"If she still goes to the theatre, up here," Xarcious manages when he can speak again, "then she probably favors the poorly-attended shows, the less likely for her disguise to be spotted. She's clever, and knows what would happen to a kobold -kof kof- caught above ground here in the city."
Looking exhausted after his long explanation, Xarcious piteously asks if there's a little water to be had.
Some of you might be aficionados of the Absalom theatre scene, but even if you're not, one might always ask questions as to the schedule of the shows.... probably outside of the Puddles, as the residents there tend not to be the biggest supporters of the arts.
bloodshed in this traditionally gory Chelish history with illusions and sleight of hand.
The Serpent's Song is just as busy as you feared, with Absalom citizens dressed in their best (even if for some of the tradesmen classes that just amounts to a clean shirt and a new pair of shoes) to attend a momentary respite from their concerns. Given the time it took you to make it out of the Puddles and reach the Ivy District, where many of the city's theatres are located, it is early afternoon and matinee performances are just beginning.
Those of you who are openly armored or bearing large weapons incur a few sidelong looks and mutters from the theatre-goers, and after you have been staking out the crowd for a half-hour, a couple of guards with an insignia of an ivy leaf on their uniforms approach you, clearing their throats.
However, Kaye is dressed in a fashion that they expect (and defer to); with a few murmured words Kaye is able to explain that the rougher looking individuals are, of course, only his guardsmen and retainers, and of course there won't be any trouble, officers... yes, good day to you too...
There's good news and there's bad news. The bad news is that hours tick slowly by, Absalom's summer heat beating down on your heads and armor, and two performances come and go, letting in and letting out crowds of people, but none of you see anyone that could pass as a disguised kobold, cloak or no cloak.
The good news is that there are food carts gathered here to serve the theatre-goers, and they have those crispy little fried fish with the chili-garlic sauce? Yeah, those.
A full four hours after staking out your performance, Navoreal and Orin (possibly getting more servings of street food) happen to overhear two well-dressed passersby grousing as they walk down the street.
"...what is the point of going to a Chelish opera if they've gotten rid of all the blood? Replace it with silly flim-flam? Pfft. I'll be asking for a refund, I will."
"Yes, myself as well, I was very disappointed, one has to sacrifice for art, you know..."
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Rogzul sputters awake as Kay begins speaking.
"I do not want to do to another one of these." He grumbles. "But I will if we need to." He frowns, having been unable to make heads or tails of the play and his nose had been overwhelmed by the scent of fried fish.
"Fall From Glory, that does not sound interesting either. Especially if there is no blood."
Kaye proposes they try a different show based on the overheard words, and, despite the Pathfinders being bored of this or tired of standing in the hot sun, it seems like the best lead at the moment.
Making your way to the theatre at which Fall from Glory is airing, it seems you may now be on the right track-- the crowds are noticeably thinner here, and people are walking out while complaining about it being an inferior production-- leave it to Andorens to ruin the theatre, huffs a matron with a powdered wig.
This time, your gambit pays off. Gleam, Kaye, and Orin all note a flash of faded blue-- the cloak of what appears to be a halfling woman, scurrying into the theatre despite the complaints from other patrons.
Do you intend to pursue her inside, with several of you not exactly dressed for an evening at the theatre and perhaps noticeable as a result... or would you prefer to wait outside for the performance's end, to intercept her then?
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Kaye looks at Gleam and his frequent trips to the food stands. "Well, at least one person enjoyed the play." Kaye shrugs.
"At the previous play we were a bit too...inappropriately dressed to blend in. We may stand out. However we would have much more time to find and follow her if we went inside."
Kaye paces a bit. "Maybe we should go in. I'll use the 'you're my bodyguards' excuse again..."
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"These people will not accept me." Rgozul says, pointing at his tribal wear and his savage appearance.
"I can wait here, and make sure she does not leave without you talking to her." He frowns as Xarcious coughs beside him.
"We have found her now. You are free." He says uncaring while he begins his wait outside the theatre.
(Xarcious eagerly took Navoreal's gold when it was tossed to him, bobbing his head in thanks, and said he would be at the temple of Sarenrae if needed.)
Those of you who choose to enter the theatre can buy a ticket for a paltry sum-- prices seem to have been slashed in view of the grumpy patrons-- and once inside the theatre, must spot and then approach your quarry without alerting her...
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Orin, not being good at anything that might help get him close enough to her to chat, opts to stay outside, and watch for her should she leave precipitously.
Perhaps I should learn some skills at sneaking about, it couldn't hurt. I feel like a liability to my fellow pathfinders on such missions. he muses as he waits outside the theater.
Orin, Osten, and Rogzul watch the exits like hawks, while Gleam, Kaye, and Navoreal slip inside under the pretense of being theatre patrons. Gleam's hulking frame and inherent dislikeability make him no friends, as theatre patrons side-eye him and look some combination of either distressed or offended at his shushing efforts. Kaye tries to smooth things over, but ahead of you in the dimness of the theatre you see the blue-cloaked figure taking note of your approach. She turns to slip away...
...only to be confronted by Navoreal, who slipped around and cut off her exit with silent grace.
The apparent halfling squeaks indignantly, if quietly. The play is still going on, even if the house is less than half full.
To Navoreal, the halfling says in a hissed whisper, "What's the meaning of this! Harassing an honest woman trying to take in a show! What do you want, I've done nothing to you!"
Kaye and Gleam are able to make it through the rows of theatre seats in time to catch this quiet conversation.
The 'halfling' squirms unhappily at being cornered, looking around worriedly at the Pathfinder's words, but then exhales, realizing she has clearly been found out. She sighs. "Let me watch to the intermission, then I'll talk to you..."
A few minutes later, she has accompanied you back outside the theatre and your group is together again. Still appearing as a halfling, the blue-cloaked figure gestures towards an alley to speak more quietly. Her command of Common is fluent and smooth, unlike most kobolds.
"You already know who I am and who the Sewer Dragons are, it seems. I can make guesses as to who you are, as well.
"My father raised our tribe from just another squabbling nest of kobolds struggling to get by-- to one of the most powerful factions of the City below. He knows that to leave a true legacy, however, he'll need connections above. He doesn't want to destroy your Society... in fact, he wants you to be allies... of a sort," she says carefully. "But he is convinced that the way to do this is to force your hand to a showdown, defeat the agents you send, and then demand an alliance where he has the advantage. For all his cleverness, my father still thinks like, well... a kobold. He doesn't grasp your Society's real power. I've read enough to know that if our tribe truly angered your biggest chiefs, your.... ven-ture... captains? ...that you could overwhelm us."
Yiddlepode twists the fabric of her cloak between her hands. "I want a partnership between your Society and my people as well-- a nicer one! But as long as my father is chief, I cannot openly speak out against him-- he might choose my brother instead as successor, and Tok thinks like my father.
"I can tell you where to enter the tunnels and warn you of some of the threats, but I can't lead you to my father without it looking like I'm betraying him. While he is in power, you'll need to negotiate with him. But he's old, and when I'm chief myself, we can work out a deal that's much more beneficial to each of us," the 'halfling' says hopefully, looking around your group to judge your reactions.
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"You speak with a bright understanding of our two worlds, and I know that we can work something out that is a win for both sides in our negotiations, even with your father... I look forward to a day when you are the one we seek to speak with directly! Please draw us a map and mark hazards that you know of so we can avoid them."
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"Ah, you're quite the enterprising sort? I can appreciate that." Kaye nods. "All the help you can offer us on winning your father's favor will be quite appreciated. Enjoy the rest of the play, we never met you."
Kaye waits for her to finish scribbling notes down. "Excellent. Let's see. A brief moment while I prepare this last extract and then...off to the sewers."
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"Negotiations will be easy." Rog grunts toward the halfling, not sure why a kobold would raise one of another race. "We have bought and used a slave, and discovered you with ease. Your chief will bow to reason." Rog listens carefully to the instructions on how to follow the Sewer Dragons and gets ready to leave as soon as possible.
The 'halfling' seems pleased with your agreement, and asks if you have paper or parchment at hand for a map; if nobody does she winds up using the back of a torn-down playbill.
"There's dozens of entrances to our territory but most of them are too small for people your, ahem, size," she says delicately. "The only one bigfolk can easily traverse has an entrance just at the edge of the Ivy District. You'll find a long straight tunnel that Tok keeps trapped up-- I don't know all of what he has in there, because he likes to change things week to week to try out his newest ideas, and I don't go in that way. But I'm positive you'll want to watch the floor, because beneath that tunnel, that's where we keep Stinky Gurva. Or where Stinky Gurva keeps himself, I guess.
"He's an otyugh. We make sure he has plenty of trash, and in turn he eats trespassers," Yiddlepode says brightly.
"Oh, and there might be guards posted to keep an eye on the tunnel.
"From Gurva's chamber you'll want to take the eastern tunnel. That'll take you to my brother's workshop, eventually." Yiddlepode scratches at her jaw with a gesture that looks disturbingly animal-like until you remember she isn't actually a halfling, just currently disguised as one. She clears her throat. "I... doubt Tok will want to, um, talk. I'd prefer if you didn't kill my brother, but... on the other hand it would certainly make my position more secure."
She's silent a moment, cold-blooded reptilian practicality at war with sentiment. "...well, anyway. Through his lab is the entrance to the theatre, and that's where my father and the bulk of the tribe will be.
"Since you're topsiders, you should know sewers often have a lot of diseases for your kind. I think that's all the help I can give you. If you don't have any further questions, I'll wish you luck."