The food arrives and is excellent — crusty bread, decent beer and juicy meat. As you eat your fill, Halmon continues.
“Your venture-captain speaks highly of you. She reports that your team defeated an invading planar army and negotiated with a dragon?” He pauses to look at his notes, giving you a querying look before continuing. “I'm glad, as the job I have for you is very important. Yesterday one of the Duskwardens reported to me that a group of travelers had disappeared along the Halflight Path on their way here. While any such disappearances are terrible, what makes it my business is that they were headed here to join the Freemen. You see, they were—until recently—slaves in Nidal. I shudder to think of what horrors they endured there, but to be so close to their destination and just vanish,” he trails off and lowers his head.
Joelle, a sturdy middle-aged woman, speaks up, “We hope you are able to find these lost travelers and return them to us. All we know is that they vanished along the Halflight Path and that the Duskwardens never received a message from the Halflight charms the travelers carried. Please use whatever means you have at your disposal to find them and bring them safely here.”
“I suggest you start by talking to people around town,” adds Anva. “We've heard a few stories of other disappearances. Maybe there's a connection. And try getting a meeting with one of the Augurs if you can.” She bites her lip, as if trying to decide whether to say more. “My own experience with the Augurs led me to request you. Through your Venture Captain, of course.”
Halman looks at you all intently. “Do you have any questions for us?”
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"It is delicious!" Engashez exclaims. "Especially with this creamy paste. Marvelous; we'll have to learn these secrets."
She scarfs down another slice of heavily buttered bread before continuing. "Skyrahk has good questions. What is this 'Halflight Path?' Remember, we are new to Kaer Maga; we don't know these things yet." Though it is a beautiful city... above ground, and yet still constructed mostly of tunnels and warrens. An excellent design that we should try to bring to Absalom; the surface there could be so much more comfortable without so much sky.
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Having to jump out of the way of the charging otugh, Pethjun watches the disappearing form with a bit of surprise. I didn't think Hats could move that fast. I almost want to see what he does to that bigfoot!
She moves to the front of the group behind Jabberin’ James before quickly realizing that it makes her the prime target of his jabberin’ and quickly shuffles to the back of the group. Having already been surprised and accosted by one bigfoot today, she stays on guard, glowering deeply at anyone who approaches to close or stares too long. She settles down slightly once they move into the shadowy parts of the other districts, glad that the bright glint of the sun is out of her eyes and she can get a clear view of the place.
She gives a slight hiss at the clattering and bustle that issue out of the Common House. Busy and crowded places are the worst for bodyguards. Hard to tell when threats are coming… Like that group over there! In response to the drawing of weapons, Pethjun also rushes forward, rapier in hand and shield raised, ready to defend the group. She does lower her weapons when it becomes apparent that it was a misunderstanding, though she doesn’t put them away until the offer of food and drink is presented. “I’ll have a mug of your strongest stuff! And don’t water it down; I can handle it!”
When it becomes apparent that everyone is introducing themselves, Pethjun stands up on the chair, trying to tower over the weak bigfoots. “And I am Pethjun, strongest of our team. I’m here to makes sure that only our enemies die! Pray that there are none here!” Her bit said, she settles back down slightly, listening to the conversation with half a mind, eating her full of food with the other, until her ears pick up something interesting. She swallows most of the food and mead in her mouth before piping up, ”And just what is an Argury? Is it strong?”
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Vanarog focuses his attention on the plate of food in front of him as he sits with his legs dangling off his floating disk. Many half eaten items are strewn about as he tests them against his palate. Time and time again items are tossed half eaten to the side as his eyes and nose seeks out fresh culinary victims "That there. Bring me one of those this time. No cook it so much, we Sewer Dragon's like our meat still red!" He waves his claws at the wait staff trying to get their attention, before finally casting a spell to stop them in their tracks as they scurry past. "Mushrooms! Do you have any mushrooms? Roasted? Steamed? Raw? Pickled? I would like to try this, yes."
As he waits he catches a scrap of conversation "Who are these Dusk Wardens? Are they to be trusted?"
"What are these Halflight charms? Can you explain what you mean by the Halflight Path? How many travellers are we looking for? If we are unable to find them in time, do you wish their bodies brought back for a human ceremony of some kind? And what is this crunchy white stuff we are eating? It is delicious."
“Bread,” Halmon laughs. “The crunchy white stuff is called bread.”
"Skyrahk has good questions. What is this 'Halflght Path?’ Remember, we are new to Kaer Maga; we don’t know these things yet.”
Halmon continues softly. “The Halflight Path is a dangerous route from the base of the Storval Rise into the Varisian city of Kaer Maga via the Undercity. It’s maintained and patrolled by the Duskwardens, who charge a hefty fee for escorting caravans into and out of the city. It is used by travellers who value speed over safety, and are willing and able to pay for the privilege.”
“As for Halflight Charms,” Joelle says, “they’re the magical tokens the Duskwardens give to travelers on the Halflight Path. People carrying the token can activate it to send out a distress signal to the nearest Duskwardens.”
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. “I’ll have a mug of your strongest stuff! And don’t water it down; I can handle it!”
When it becomes apparent that everyone is introducing themselves, Pethjun stands up on the chair, trying to tower over the weak bigfoots. “And I am Pethjun, strongest of our team. I’m here to makes sure that only our enemies die! Pray that there are none here!” Her bit said, she settles back down slightly, listening to the conversation with half a mind, eating her full of food with the other, until her ears pick up something interesting. She swallows most of the food and mead in her mouth before piping up, ”And just what is an Argury? Is it strong?”
“Our strongest stuff? Alrighty then.” Anva grins as she pours a glass of a bright blue liquid. “This is Throatburn, a gnomish whisky. Remember, you asked for it. Don’t be surprised if it makes you breathe fire.”
Drink poured, Anva paces around the room. “Augury is strong. It’s fortune-telling that actually works. The Augurs are a group of trolls with a deep knowledge of the city and a real talent for prophecy. Their services don't always come cheap, but they are often worth the coin.” She taps her fingers. “I tried to find our missing escaped slaves directly, but I got told by the Augurs that there were too many forking paths of destiny to narrow down. The one thing that one of them could tell me was that I wasn’t the one to solve this, or to ask the right questions. You were. That’s why you’re here, dragons.”
"Who are these Dusk Wardens? Are they to be trusted?"
Halmon nods. “The Dusk Wardens might be the one group that everyone in Kaer Maga trusts. They’re a group charged with keeping Kaer Maga safe from the suberranean menaces that lay beneath the surface of our city. It takes years of training to become a Warden, and in a way the whole city pays for their upkeep. If a Dusk Warden anywhere shows their badge, they are allowed to pick up what they need for free from any shop, anywhere. The shops then pass the bills to their district leaders, and they pay them. In return, the Dusk Wardens are pledged to take no more than they need, and to protect the city from the horrors that may lay below.”
Joelle watches as Vanarog tosses half-eaten food aside. “Are you always this rude, little kobold? That’s good food you’re tossing away.” She looks to Anva. “Are you sure the Augurs saw him? Maybe we don’t need him.”
When Anva nods, Joelle grimaces and turns back to Vanarog. “Fine. But you WILL eat the foot you order, and you WILL like it, or you will get not one crumb more.”
Meanwhile, Jabberin’ James has been grabbing all of Vanarog’s rejects, and eating the food as it comes by. You realize that may be the only reason that you haven’t heard him in this conversation — his mouth has been full the entire time. “Whad? I’b hungry,” he says through a mouthful of food.
Anva sighs. “Any more questions, or should we send you out?”
Hey, you never know. Some of you might know something already!
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Vanarog raises an eyebrow as he's chastised for his 'antics'. He hands a half eaten bird wing to Jabberin' and stands up on his disc, brushing crumbs from his majestic cloak "I am well known food critic back in Absalom. How am I to rate this cooker you have if I don't try many of their foods?" He turns his palms face up, claws a bit thick with grease and butter. "If I give this place two claws up then that word spread like fire in goblin hut! You be swamped with people in no time!"
After explaining his situation he sets back down, repositioning his cloak to catch crumbs, and annoyingly waves back at the wait staff "Where's those mushrooms at?" These longshanks very rude, they are all going on my list when we leave. Not sure they really want my magical expertise!
He mutters to himself as he waits for the mushrooms "Just cuz we be Sewer Dragons in far away place not mean we aren't smart and worldly like longshanks! I know much of the history of this big old city of yours...
The city of Kaer Maga was here before the Thassilonian empire even began. That a very long time ago!" He scoffs and continues "The very first Runelord of Greed used Kaer Maga as a prison for his enemies. This place been prison for thousands of years!" He reaches for another piece of buttery bread They right, this stuff amazing.
"When he first took control of the city, the first Runelord of Greed made a deal with the caulborn, a mysterious race of prophets and record-keepers residing in the city. They agreed to become wardens and historians of the city. Maybe they the Augur people you talk so much about." His long tongue lashes out and cleans the butter from his snout as a plate of roasted mushrooms finally arrives. "Good! Now pickled!" He shoos the woman away.
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Engashez nods along with Vanarog. Nothing he said contradicted anything that she herself knew about Kaer Maga, which--honestly--surprised the bard a little bit. "Vanarog... is right," she says, mostly to the other Sewer Dragons.
Only they would understand how unusual that was.
Everything that they'd just learned about Kaer Maga... the Warrens, the Augurs, the Duskwardens, and all the various factions... was also backed up by the research she'd done before leaving Absalom. She doesn't speak up about it, but instead gives the other Sewer Dragons a poignant nod to indicate that they weren't being misled. It seems these Freemen can be trusted. For now.
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Pethjun grabs ahold of the glass and takes a generous mouthful of the alcohol, staring Anva in the eyes in challenge...
and swallows the drink with no problem. She then finishes the rest of the alcohol in one last gulp. "That's not bad! Got a bit of a kick to it and helped warm my throat up... Another, and possibly a third, too!"
Biting into a piece of the cruchy, yet fluffy white stuff covered in butter, Pethjun almost spits it out Vanarog's absurd food critic claim. I hope our illustrious 'leader' doesn't get us into trouble here!
Given the incredibly reliable preamble to the information Vanarog then rattles off, Pethjun ignores it out of hand and focuses on eating and drinking the Throatburn. That is until Engashez actually verifies what the little magic user had been saying. Her third glass halfway ot her snout, Pethjun stops in shock. What? But Vanarog is never trustworthy on things like this! ... I have no clue what he was saying.
To cover up for her mistake, Pethjun downs the last of her Throatburn, relishing the color, before bringing the glass down again and standing up. "Alright, then! We just need to find these people, right? Can't be too hard. Let's get going then!" With a few tottering steps she moves to the door, before glancing back at the others and making sure none of them caught her bluff.
Before you go, Joelle says, “My pa grew up in the Warren. It’s a tough place, but it might not be a bad place to go askin’ questions. Those people sometimes hear the scuttlebutt on everything. See if you can find our lost ones? Nidal’s a terrible place. Even more terrible still is to be on the way to freedom and have it snatched away.”
Jabberin’ James looks at all of you, patting his very full belly. “This has been a red letter day for ol’ Jabberin’ James already! So much food! So much great food!” He looks on Vanarog with uncommon fondness. “So, where d’yall want to go in your investigations?”
★ ---- ★ ---- ★ ---- ★
Fazgyn disappears into his meal, eating with gusto. He listens as the others describe what they know.. but his own skills are not much use above the ground and out of the tunnels of his home. 'So, We talk to the Auger people, and talk to the duskwardens, and talk to the warren people. We talk to everyone.. on our way into these tunnels of the half light looking for these lost people. Then we get access to the tunnels, right?"
As the team descends into the warrens, he keeps his ears open and asks one or two polite questions. Luckily, it seems that even rough edged Fazgyn is able to learn a few manners, as he seems to get along well with those he encounters.
Engashez is fascinated by the apparent contract the Duskwardens have with the city. They just get a blank check for supplies? We need to negotiate this arrangement with Absalom! Sewer Dragons can protect Absalom from threats from below, and we just take what we need to do the work!!! Her mind wanders, exploring this thought, imagining all the wonderful strange foods she could try in service to the city. Sewer Dragons must be well fed to protect city, yes. Must be well fed.
When they get to the Warrens, she focuses on trying to learn more about other disappearances, to try to suss out a pattern if one exists. "Hello?" she asks softly of various people on the street, vendors, anyone she can get to listen. "You know of Halflight Path? We hear that people sometimes disappear. Has this ever happened to someone you know? Family, friends? Enemies, even?" she adds with a chuckle.
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Engashez nods along with Vanarog. Nothing he said contradicted anything that she herself knew about Kaer Maga, which--honestly--surprised the bard a little bit. "Vanarog... is right," she says, mostly to the other Sewer Dragons.
A small, buttery smile cracks Vanarog's lips as his ears pick up the sweet sound of victory from Engashez. He reaches into his cloak pocket and produces the paper he's always so furiously writing on when people annoy him. He dips his claw into some pooled blood on his plate and slowly lines something out. For now... you are spared.
As the meeting clears Vanarog quickly makes his way out of the inn, just in case any of the longshanks had any notions of him paying for the food. "Come Jabberjaw, WE must lead our group. You show us around, I make the big decisions, answer the important questions." He rubs his full stomach and smiles. Belly more full than usual, need nap soon. He stifles a yawn and waddles along after, his floating disc in tow.
At the first child (or small sized humanoid) he comes across, Vanarog puffs out his chest to ask important questions "You there! Tell us what you know of this 'Halflight Path'! Don't run away, we'll follow!" He attempts to curl his lip in a friendly manner, it quivers for a few moments before returning to its normal sneer.
Pethjun follows Engashez as she moves about the town. If the yappity true dragon was ever going to be useful it'd be now. The white kobold tries to ask a few questions of people here and there. "Uhh, where is the nearest Argur?" "The Half-Light Path starts where?" "Duskwarden! Where!" But sadly the alcohol in her system leads her to do constantly growl challenges at anyone who looks strong, and as she gets no where gets progressively more and more annoyed, before giving a huff and walking away for a moment.
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After a completely unsuccessful attempt at getting information from the locals, Pethjun turns back to everyone else. "Well, did you get anything? The locals were all softscales and just cowered away from me. I guess I'm too intimidating for this crowd." With a slight scoff, she glances at Engashez.
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After a completely unsuccessful attempt at getting information from the locals, Pethjun turns back to everyone else. "Well, did you get anything? The locals were all softscales and just cowered away from me. I guess I'm too intimidating for this crowd." With a slight scoff, she glances at Engashez.
"It probbly your drunky, bad breath that scared them away. What you drink? Smells real bad." Vanarog says as he continues to chase down children with his questions.
"It probbly your drunky, bad breath that scared them away. What you drink? Smells real bad." Vanarog says as he continues to chase down children with his questions.
Pethjun tries to sniff her own breath, before giving a shrug and in a slightly slurred tone, replies, "Stoatburner, or somesing like zat. It wasn't zat strong... Didn't taste bad, zough!" Giving Vanarog a sidelong glance as the 'majestic one' chases little children around, she gives a little chuckle. "Zat looks like fun. Let me help!"
Jabbing Skyrahk with a bony elbow Athrax says "It seems Pethjun is not use to the Longshank's ales and meads. Shes become accustom to the brew I bring to the rest of the Sewer Dragons." Athrax pats his now distended belly full of all many of tasty delectable food.
Chasing after Pethjun and His mighty... Pain in the rear Athrax tries to help with the gathering of information. Showing off his Broken Wayfinder and asking "We only seek to find the Half-Light Path is that right? I am confused why are we here again?"
It's a good think Skyrahk is here... the rest of these Sewer Dragons are no help at all! Engashez does her best to try to corral the kobolds and sooth the feelings of the locals as drunkenness and confusion threaten to derail her efforts.
Pethjun gives a look at Engashez and her attempts at corralling her. With a wry grin, she slips out of the way and heaves her apparently bad-smelling breath at the other kobold. Dancing away, she tries to catch up with Athrax and figure out what the alchemist has been up to.
Fazgyn fades back into the group to see the absolute chaos that has resulted from turning the other kobolds loose on the unsuspecting populous. "I did't do too bad.. not near bad as some of you!!" he exclaims, uncharacteristically and awkwardly patting a crying child on the head (Completely oblivious as the child cowers in terror from the monster touching it!).
"Come. Lets see what we have all learned!"
Despite some mischievous behavior on the part of the Kobold crew Engashez finds a bored-looking merchant whose stall full of tacky looking watches and amulets is getting no current business.
“Psssst.” Jabberin’ James says, pointing at the merchant. “That’s Ulgan Trask over there. He sells a bit of everything, he does, but he specializes in cheap, knock off jewelry.”
When Engashez and the others approach Trask, he blinks, looking past you like someone unable to focus on anything. “The Halflight path? Eh, don’t talk to me of it! Yeah, I’ve heard of plenty of people that disappeared.” He shivers and then sniffs the air where Pethjun was breathing on everyone. “Damn. That smells like Throatburn. Wish I had some now.” He sighs. “I've walked up that path quite a few times now, but I'm not going down there again until the Duskwardens take a close look at my complaints! I almost broke my neck. Someone put up a tripwire right near the edge of a drop-off and I only just stopped myself from going over. Ended up on my face, flat on the ground instead! And what do I see?” Trask asks, pausing dramatically. "A footprint about the size of my hand, but with scales and claws at the end of the toes. Plain as day, right in the mud. Of course when I took a Duskwarden back, he couldn't spot it. Typical!"
“I got so mad that I up and left, and then tripped on something else, and there was an explosion and my glasses got busted, and now I can barely see. Do you have any Throatburn on you? This day’s been crap.”
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I almost feel bad for this softscale... nah.
Vanarog listens on to the 'woe is me' story of the merchant "Hrm. Trip wires? A bit rookie, but for those without amazing magical talents they can be effective." He ponders the rest of the story "Scaled feet and claws? Could be anyone really!" He holds up his own such claws and shrugs.
“Anyone?’ The merchant looks puzzled for a moment.
Then Jabberin’ James butts in swiftly. “He’s jokin’ he is... You know us halflings! Always good for a spot ‘o fun!” Then he clears his throat. “Jokes aside, we lot have other places to go today, right chums?”
‘Shall we try and find us an Augur, then?” Jabberin’ James scratches his head, looking a bit unsure for a moment. “I knows where I can finds them sometimes, only... they sometimes moves around because everyone has need o’ reliable prophets, right?”
He sets you on a walk across the city again, eventually stopping in the middle of Downmarket, a completely shaded market with all sorts of shops. As you travel there, you can hear the merchants nervously talking amongst themselves... “What in HELLS was that thing with all the tentacles?”
“...and how did it move so fast with all those caps on its head?”
“I dunno. It looked like something out of the vaults!”
Most of them eye your odd little group, but as you are not otughs, they eventually lose interest. Up ahead, you can see Jabberin’ James heading straight for a large female troll witha bloody knife in her hand. “Nuregore!” He grins. “Can ye do some prophesyin’ for the friends o’ Jabberin’ James? You see, it’s sort o’ a long story—”
The troll puts her hand over James’ mouth.
James protests, “Mmmmph!”
“I want to hear from YOU, not him.” Nuregore waves the bloody knife around at all of you. “What do you seek, and what have you found so far? Know that I charge by the yard. I can answer your questions, but it’s much cheaper if you’ve done some of your own legwork first. Prophecy is a messy business. Show me you’re not here to waste my time.”
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The troll looks dreamily to the distance, starting to palpitate her own belly with her free hand, squeezing it like a grocer checking a fruit for ripeness. “Ah yes. Anva’s lost lambs. She came to me, paying me gold, asking what it would take to bring them back. I searched the forking paths of the future, and in each of them I either found dead slaves — or you. Or dead slaves AND you. It is possible you might fail as well, just less so.
“You’re the little dragons I asked her to find.” She lifts her knife, pointing to each of you in turn, though she’s looking off into space as she speaks. “The priest. The spellsmith. The warrior. The alchemist. The trapmaster. The yapper, with the ‘hattiest’ hat. Six of you in all, seeking six slaves. The universe balances on such symmetries.”
“Do you any other details to share and narrow the forking paths?” Nuregore still holds the bloody knife, waiting to see if you have any other details to share.
Nuregore laughs. “Have you not heard of how the augurs work, little dragon?”
“You see,” pipes up Jabberin’ James, “they works their pro—”
CLOMPF!
The troll’s large hand closes over James’s face again. Once again, the halfling squeaks in protest and he flails his arms. “Mmmmph. MMMPTH!”
Nuregore looks at Vanarog, amused. “There’s always a price to be paid for true sight, little mage.” She waves the blade around. “In this case... a bloody price. Are you sure you don’t want to see it?”
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Vanarog shakes his head slowly in the negative "Vanarog likes his scaly bits just where they are, thanks. Maybe we find you nice softscale to pay the... price?" He stammers, taking another step back and looks around nervously.
Vanarog's eyes open widely as he things he misconstrued things "No no, not me. I'm no softscale!" This time he out right points to Jabber Jaw, then shrugs his shoulders sheepishly at the Halfling.
At Vanarog’s words, Jabberin’ James, still gagged by a troll hand, starts flailing his arms even more, this time in an almost panic. “MMMMMMMMMPH!”
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At the mention of more Throatburn, Pethjun's mind goes blank but for thoughts of the delicious alcohol. In the unthinking haze, she follows the rest of the group around before the sight of a big strong troll pulls her out of her reverie.
She looks strong! I wonder if we could take her? ...Wait she's an argur and we can't kill her? Awww She listens with half an ear, not really interested in the ramblings of a 'fortune teller'. Thogh her attention is drawn back in as the troll start mentioning drawing a blood price from Vanarog. She almost gives a sigh of disappointment as she finds out the true nature of the threat, but then grins and joins in.
"Oh, I think Vanarog'd be softscale enough to work, but I'd be all for something to shut James up for a second! Here, I'll gladly cut it off myself! What'd ya need? An ear, a finger, his tongue? Please let it be his tongue!"
The haze of the throatburn's spell completely lifted, Pethjun's mind dredges up the conversation the merchant had been talking about earlier as she approaches the rude halfling with her rapier drawn. She stops for a second. "Wait, trip wires and explosions and scaled foot prints! There must be other true dragons setting up traps on the path!"
"None of us can be the sacrifice, if that's what it is," Engashez eyes the Augur with curiosity.
"Six balances with six. She just said that." Though it was amusing to see Vanarog squirm....
She steps closer to the troll, still curious to see what this bloody price would be. "Pethjun--the warrior--is right, though. These traps sound like the clear work of other dragons like us. Not us, obviously, but this makes it far more interesting, and certainly must help narrow the forking paths you see. Does that help?"
“It does, little dragon. My normal rate for vague questions is 125 gold per answer. But you’ve put in the hard work finding your own answers, and you’ve given Nuregore some mirth today. Pay me three gold, and I’ll consider that and the laughter you’ve given me fair recompense.” Then she looks serious. “Now for the blood price — which is all mine.”
“I can tell you something of where you should go,” says the troll, who then kneels on the ground, draws a long knife from her belt and, with a powerful swipe, slices the blade across her belly. She carefully reaches inside her abdomen and draws forth her glistening internal organs, lifting them to her eye level. She does not respond to the powerful odor that wells forth, and instead studies her intestines intently. Nuregore runs the intestines through her hands like a slimy rope, examining them carefully. She continues to do this and soon a pile of them lies before her on the ground. She then stops as she reaches her large intestine. “It goes on a long way and reaches far beneath the surface,” she says with a frown, “this place you seek. It would be easy to become lost there, and it likely draws dangers from the darkest depths.” With careful skill, Nuregore shoves her innards back and presses the skin together. Her greenish hide knits together quickly and she stands. “Those are the visions I see.”
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Vanarog half watches the ritual with a slightly sickened look on his face Her belly, she cut it open and pulled out her innards! Yuck.. and Ouch! Once the ritual is complete he pulls out 3 gold pieces and places them in her hand quickly, as to not touch the blood. "Your payment."
He turns and smiles at Jabber "You see there? Vanarog keep you safe, pay your fee for you. You keep all your fingers and your tongue." He flicks his long serpent tongue at him in jest "Now, lead us to these Dusk people. They have really neat name." He prods Jabber in the back with his staff, its eyes flare red.
Jabberin’ James glares at Vanarog and Pethjun. “Not so sure I want to be a guide for THEM no more. Wantin’ to sacrifice me tongue, or me fingers...” He turns to the only member of the party to have been consistently kind and respectful to him, Engashez. “Understand this. I’m guiding YOU. The rest o’ them can tag along, but I am guiding YOU.”
Jabberin’ James glares at all of you, mercifully for once giving you the silent treatment as he once again takes you on winding paths and rickety swaying rope bridges in the twilight city of Kaer Maga. On the final stretch of one of the bridges, he gestures to an interior cliff wall of city, where the neighborhoods are filled with grand houses built on rocky shelves that overlook the rest of the city. The multilevel structure within the rest of Kaer Maga's walls has collapsed in Bis, leaving only the walls and the highest ceiling. Buttressed platforms soar off the sides of the walls, each holding a collection of homes and businesses. A network of pulley-drawn elevators provides transportation between the platforms.
“See those shelves, Miss Engashez?” Jabberin’ James points. “Those are the balconies o’ Bis, one o’ the fanciest neighborhoods of Kaer Maga. The houses get grander and grander the further up the shelf you go, in part because there’s some sunlight at the very top, and a few o’ them even have gardens and fountains and such.”
James stares wistfully at the lofty heights of the Balconies of Bis, and then directs your sights to a shelf much lower on the wall. “There’s some important businesses in the foundations of Bis.” He points to a factory fortress where billowing plumes of smelly dark smoke billow out of the foundry, and where you can see huge metallic constructs patrolling back and forth, accompanied by muscular looking men in brown leather jackets and gloves. “That’s the Golemworks, the most famous factory in all of Kaer Maga. They say that everyone working there is related as cousins and such. They say they’re part of a family that goes back centuries, and that their magic is carried in the male bloodline only. They call themselves the Brotherhood, and they patrols Bis. They keep the law here like the whole neighborhood is their own turf. They likes things quiet they does. Don’t piss them off, alright?”
James leads you on to the balcony right by the Golemworks, where you wait respectfully for a patrol to stomp by. CLOMP. CLOMP. CLOMP. CLOMP. As soon as the metal men are gone, he walks you just a short distance beyond the factory to the Guildhouse. The Guildhouse itself is a squat and solid structure, with a placard bearing the Duskwarden's twisted-arch insignia in blue and gold hanging outside. Jabberin’ James knocks on the door.
A window on the door slides open, and a half-elf woman looks through. “Hello,” she says politely. “Who are you, and what is your business with the Duskwardens?”
“Haldon?” The woman looks perpexed for a moment, and then her face clears. “Oh, you mean Halmon! He sent a messenger earlier, telling me to expect a team. Come in, come in. The Freemen are good folk. We’ve even apprenticed a few as novitiate Duskwardens.”
“Come in, please. We can talk more comfortably inside.” She leads you past the hall to an office in the back filled with map cases. There is a large table that is full of pin holes, and comfy battered furniture that completely mismatches with one another.
“I’m Talbren,” she says as she watches you take in the battered and mismatched furniture. She laughs and pulls out a teapot that has been warming on a Golemworks stove, and brings out tea cups and plates with small cookies for everyone including James. “We Duskwardens are allowed to take what we need... So when we needed furniture, we asked around to find out if anyone in Bis was getting rid of things that would be suitable for our needs. They’re not pretty, but they do the job. Tell me... Are you here on the matter of that poor lost group from Nidal?”