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Lady Yumiki never developed a talent for verbal sparring, but she certainly has no issue being serious and putting a touch of steel in her voice, "Miss, Lady Silviana has a problem, a problem that became a problem of Lady Darchana's. We are here to resolve that problem. Understandably, discretion is desirable for all concerned, so in the interest of discretion, perhaps you can minimize how many outsiders we must interrogate or otherwise involve in this affair by giving us as much information as you can. It would be most unfortunate for open mouthed commoners to start rumor-mongering about the Lady's problem because we were forced to ask around just to find out what you could easily tell us yourself." she ends witn a tone and gesture inviting the Majordomo to respond.
Milana shakes her head, touching her hand to her forehead. “Yes, Lady Darchana’s dinner party. What an embarrassment for Lady Silviana. Can you imagine being told that your handmaiden is some sort of… well… spy? Dreadful. The woman’s name is Atlag, and she has been here for almost three weeks! Three weeks! When I think of the private conversations that happened in front of Atlag? It makes me ill, honestly ill.”
Composing herself, Milana continues, “Lady Silviana retains a solicitor, a Chelish gentleman named Solvius Salbus. He works out of an office in the Coins called the Red Letter. He drew up the paperwork for my Lady to complete the transaction on Atlag with a man named...” She wags her pointer finger a few times, shaking her head as she tries to recall the name. “Mahdi Mahjub. No, Mahjub Mahdi! He does his business down in Misery Row, of course. It’s a small shop with several large windows to allow passersby to see into his display parlor from the street. ‘Mahdi’s Chattel: Absalom’s Finest,’ so the sign claims. Honestly, I think every third building in Misery Row claims to be ‘Absalom’s Finest.’ I wonder how many spies like Atlag he’s sold over the years? It’s a dreadful, dreadful business. I am not sure there is anything else I can tell you, but I am sure you understand my Lady’s desire to move on from this embarrassment? Good? Yes? Thank you.”
Pulling Mivvy aside as she ushers you from the premises, she adds, “You seem to possess a keen understanding of how things work in Absalom, so perhaps you might be willing to perform a small service for my Lady. It would be unheard of for Lady Silviana to demand recompense for her handmaiden purchased from Mahjub Mahdi; however, were you to secure such a deal, it would be gracious gesture that might lead to a budding friendship, don’t you think? And should he refuse you, who were you to ask in the first place?” She shrugs her shoulders and frowns slightly.
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Mivvy rolls her shoulders as they walk, "I assume the stock in Absalom will be many and varied. This Mahdi will probably cry ignorance... Honestly, that seems very unlikely. Stockmen know their cattle."
She casts a brief glance over the newcomers, "As you heard, I am Myvanwie. We just got back from slaying a minotaur; I'm not sure that this caper will be so straightforward."
She is a handsome woman with lithe movements, her broad-brimmed hat perched rakishly and just-so atop her carefully coiffed hair. The sword in her well-tooled scabbard is however strictly business.
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Carrel pulls out a small notebook and jots down some notes as the majordomo tells her story.
"Yes, well, I am Carrel Firth. I'm afraid I've not seen any minotaurs, as of yet. I have had a marvelous opportunity to explore an old library, however. Proved more dangerous than one might think, actually."
After the others have introduced themselves, Carrel will retrieve his notebook, glance at it, and proclaim "I think we should go speak with mister Salbus. There's no telling what relevant paperwork he may have seen."
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Lady Yumiki wears well crafted but well worn clothes, strange boots, thick silken pants and silk shirt in dark colors with subtle and intricate patterns of dragons and many-tailed foxes. She has several silk scarfs with odd beadwork, mostly around her waist. She has a long light grey coat and a red cloak.
She moves with grace and confidence.
"Sounds like merchents are the same everywhere. I am Lady Yumiki of Durandasha."
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"Saya Teynr" Saya says by way of introduction, bowing slightly from the waist, giving each newcomer a bright, welcoming smile.
Dressed plainly, her garb and weapons are utilitarian and well kept, she's obviously not one for ostentation.
She nods to Carrel, "Indeed, the solicitor seems the next person to talk to."
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"Ah agree that misary row shood be our next stop."
Virog rattles as he walks from the various small trinkets braided into his matted beard and hair bouncing off of each other. "Virog Casisto. Ahm here teh help. Ain't been quite so great at helpin' so far. But 'ahm readin' up on sum new tricks'n'all."
Misery Row is an enormous, elevated platform that runs along the eastern edge of the Coins district, and serves as the main destination to buy and sell slaves in Absalom. The cages are set into the platform such that slavers and prospective buyers can walk over the pits to inspect the merchandise easily. Mahdi’s Chattel is located along the platform, where his many-windowed storefront can catch the eye of discerning buyers. The massive wooden platform is well worn by foot traffic, and is active all hours of the day and night. The Token Guard, the guards responsible for patrolling this part of the city, intervene only in particularly egregious crimes or those they’re paid to investigate. As a result, petty criminals have numerous opportunities to ply their craft.
A hanging sign identifies the single-story building with large, full-length windows as “Mahdi’s Chattel— Absalom’s Finest.” Heavy curtains are drawn over all of the windows—one of which has been smashed—and a small painted sign that reads “Closed” hangs over the latch of the door. The door is not completely closed and shows signs of scratches and damage to the wood around the latch.
You hear low, threatening speech inside, punctuated by an object slamming against wood.
Mahdi’s Chattel is pleasantly decorated. An Andoren rug lies over the polished wooden floor of the entryway, and a small decorative table holds a curious stone statue. The eastern half of the room is in slight disarray, apparently from light renovations that are nearly complete.
You do not see anyone in this room, though evidence would suggest someone had been here recently.
This large office doubles as a private parlor for Mahjub Mahdi to conduct his legal but objectionable business. The room’s furnishings consist of a round table with two comfortable chairs, a desk with a metal-banded strongbox beneath it, and a refreshment cart. Two paintings hanging on the north wall both depict the bustling harbor of Katheer.
Sitting behind a desk is a gentleman who looks like he belongs there, but throughout the room are three other individuals, one a hulking half-orc and the other rather slight humans. All have the look of danger about them, and the half-orc seems most displeased to have been interrupted in such a fashion. "This one owes us money, now either he's paying or you're paying, and at this point I'll take blood as easy as money if you're offering." He looks the sort, and Mahdi appears to be more than a little unsettled by his presence.
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Looking at the half-orc, "On the contrary, we are no friends of Mahdi. In fact, we want something from him as well, though for us it is information we desire, so, as long as you keep him alive and able to speak, I don't much care if take blood from him. Or you can wait till after he talks then take care of him. Doesn't much matter to me." she suddenly seems to have an idea, "Out of curiousity, how much does he owe you?"
Yumiki's question goes unanswered for a bit, as the half-orc doesn't quite understands her words and has to parse them. "He owes us a lot, more than you have, but we came to collect an installment of two hundred gold pieces, and he told us he doesn't have it!"
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Turning to the man behind the desk, "Well, it seems like you are in trouble. Sell me your business for 200 gold and answer our questions for 20 gold. Otherwise, you'll be stuck between them and us. So, what will it be, buying your way out, or finding out what wheat under a grindstone feels like?" she asks steppjng forward and projecting the perfect image of a noble.
The man behind the counter doesn't quite laugh in your face, Yumiki, but he only barely stifles it. "You think I'd sell to you? You're dumber than you look, and that's saying something."
The bigger half-orc looks at you gruffly and his thugs do not let you pass into the room further. "Somebody better start talking sense or I'm gonna start cracking skulls."
"A small fee? Oh that's going to cost you, missy." Completely unaware of the humor that might be in his address of her, things devolve into violence rather rapidly. The half-orc slams the merchant's face into the wall and knock him unconscious, before turning his attention on the exposed Mivvy and her compatriots in the other room.
Perhaps because he spent what might've been the surprise round knocking out your target, the loan shark and his thugs are not quite as prepared for actual combat as the party.
Saya
Carrel
Mivvy
Yumiki
Virog
Baddies
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Virog 5' Step's forward, draws his wand of cause fear and waves it at the thug directly in front of Mivvy. "Git!"
One foe takes an arrow and another skewering, leaving him looking utterly woeful, the other finds Virog's visage the most terrifying sight since that day down on beggar's row where he saw them making a hobbit.
Both of the smaller humans, thieves by the look of them, head out a back door. One opens it slowly and stumbles out, the other sees the open door and flees in utter and absolute terror.
The half-orc, finding himself alone entirely in his endeavor, and faced with numbers that don't favor him entirely takes steps towards the back door and finds a defensive posture. "Okay look, I could wipe the floor with each and every one of you, or you could pay me. The choice is up to you chumps."
"Because if you don't pay me, I'll separate that pretty head from your pretty neck." He says this with the confidence of someone who knows it to be fact, and he certainly looks like he can back it up.