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Her pen scratches softly in the pages of her journal as Badriyah captures the names offered by Cincia.
Hearing the lady's concern she follows the others attempts to offer some assurances. "I understand your caution my lady. Every large organization has its share of troubles over time. However, I come from the southern deserts which are full of empty tombs and ruins. Ancient history and knowledge lost to thieves and despots. I assure you my desire to join the Pathfinders was to help preserve the worlds knowledge and history and to make it available to scholars and students rather than see it despoiled and lost forever."
She adds her expression thoughtful and serious, "And I'm sure we will do our best to be discreet in our inquiries and not make any accusations without solid evidence at hand."
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"The customs by which one must follow vary from town to town, is there anything we should know to stay on the proper side of the guard? If it were known we were working for you, would it be beneficial or harmful to the museum? If we meet with the local magistrate, would she be willing to work with us in finding information about the Earl, or at least give us pardon to investigate?"
Cincia looks askance at Amelia. "I don't think it matters if the general public finds out that the Pathfinders are working for the museum - your reputation in that area is well-established. Asking around about the earl's misdeeds to random people would be reckless and possibly earn you an expulsion from the town, or perhaps even a challenge to a duel. Follow the common law; that's the best way to stay on the friendly side of the guards, who are decent fellows, by-and-large."
The curator smiles as she adds: "And Magistrate Tantriano? She's a sweetheart, but she doesn't suffer fools. Let her know you're working with me - we are good friends. Tell her a joke if you want to impress her, but make sure it's a decent joke....she's got a wicked sense of humour! Now give me a second to make a list of items dislocated from our collection for you, Pathfinder Halenbane." Cincia gets up and exits using her cane, leaving you to speak alone. She returns soon after with a folded piece of paper.
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"Well Cincia, I too have my... hrmmm... reservations about working with Pathfinders, but to date my experience has been.... hrmmm... mostly positive... myesss."
He stands tall and adopts a very serious face. "But trust is earned! And if I expect you to trust my abilities, I must too trust you. I am well aware of the importance of lineage and the desire to... hrmmm... omit aspects as it were. As I said, I am the son of Marcus Vultulus Fantailler, and heir to the Fantailler estate, which is true. However, this only true since my father has no legitimate heir."
He waits for an audible gasp which clearly does not come. "My mother is not my father's wife... a detail which I always omit but will never deny. Furthermore, the... circumstances of my... erm... existance... are... hrmm..." He struggles to find a way to politely state his true lineage. Finally he sighs. Within a moment, standing before the assembled party is an light orange furred fox-like humanoid in Marcus's full ceremonial Taldan garb.
"...as seen." His ears twitch for a bit before he shifts back to his human guise.
"Sensitive issues such as these are second nature to me and will be handled with all due... discretion."
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Cincia looks non-plussed at the sight of the posh Fantailler scion transforming into a kitsune. "So....you can keep secrets," she states, choosing her words slowly. "That's good to know."
As you are leaving the museum, Cincia hurries with her cane to intercept Badriyah. "Pathfinder Hameedah," she begins, "I must say it was a pleasure to meet you and I hope that you might be able to return to shed light on the stories of your homelands and their noble histories. Farewell."
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Marcus merely shrugs.
"Hrmmm not secrets as it were... I understand and respect both the intricacies of lineage and the efforts many keep to conceal it."
He smiles and mimes sealing his lips before he continues. "But if secret keeping is something which concerns you, then rest assured I shall see to it that no knowledge we obtain will depart my lips without considerable forethought as to the ramifications."
He gives a short bow. "Shelyn's blessings upon you and your museum. May her beauty show through in all of your displays."
On the way out he gives a salute to General Armisant's portrait.
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Badriyah turns as Cincia calls out. Warmth fills her eyes at the curator's kind words. "It has been most pleasant meeting you as well my lady, and I would like nothing more than to spend a few hours sharing histories of our two homelands. My hope is we will have time for such tales when we return the museum's missing items."
When passed the wand, Badriyah bows deeply. "Many thanks for your generosity and kindness."
Pausing to give the wand a closer look, she then asks "Is there a command or other activation needed?"
Slipping the wand into her robes, Badriyah then wraps her scarf back over her head and follows the others out into the street her eyes darting back and forth to nearby doorways and faces to see if anyone has taken an unusual interest in the Pathfinders.
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Cincia smiles at Badriyah's words of farewell, but shakes her head 'no' curtly in reply to her question.
The group heads out to the docks and the wharf. Ridonport’s wharf boasts numerous smokehouses, warehouses, dry docks, and more, though this is a relatively quaint operation compared to the busy docks and shipyards of Oppara or other large cities. A simple question of one of the dockworkers leads you to a tall and broad man in his early thirties who is identified as Rasvelg, head of Ridonport’s shipwright’s guild. He dresses simply in a plain shirt, vest, and sturdy trousers, and seems quite busy assessing a dry-docked ship.
He sees you coming and turns from the ship, a measuring stick in his hand. "Yes, how can I help you?" he says in a strong accent.
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"Misdeeds at the museum?" the man grunts. "I’m very busy working out how I’m going to repair this carrack without just building a whole new ship. These captains don’t come to me until the only thing that’s fixed is their budget. I don't get the luxury of visiting museums, so I think you must have the wrong fellow. Sorry I couldn't help." He takes a measured look over the gathered group before turning back to the ship.
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Badriyah pulls out her journal again and steps up to the man bowing her head slightly in greeting. "Your pardon sir." She says with a smile. "I understand your time is precious. Actually we just came from the museum as I needed some background material for a study I'm preparing for a group of potential investors about the economics and trade conditions for Tandak Prefecture."
She licks the tip of her pen, leaving a slight mark of black ink on her lips. "But it seems there have been rumors of lost cargoes and many of the canals falling into disrepair. Obviously, this would affect trade and what might go in our report, so we thought who better to come to than one of the people who hears much from captains and traders plying these waters."
With a somewhat nonchalant glance a waive of her hand she finally asks, "So what can you tell us? Is there any truth to these statements about piracy and rivalry among some of the trading nobles?"
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Marcus grits his teeth hard. This will not be pleasant at all.
"Hrmm... My word that seems to be troublesome. One should always seek to maintain their fleet before it becomes... hrmm... utterly imperative. Perhaps we can lend some aid? While Badriayah's research is of a pressing nature to us it would be horrible manners to put demands on your time without doing what we can to... hrmm... reduce the burden."
Am I volunteering to do... manual labor? In these clothes?
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"I wouldn't suppose your study is going to look at improving sailing or carpentry, eh?" Rasvelg grunts as he takes a measurement of a particularly-warped appearing keel plank.
"...Perhaps we can lend some aid?..."
Rasvelg's eyebrows raise at the posh-appearing Marcus' suggestion. "You?....want to help?? Do you have experience with....ships??"
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Amelia steps forward after Rasvelg's response to Marcus. "I would be pleased to help as well, Captain." It's important that we win the favor of the people here. Time to get busy Amelia.
Without waiting for a response, she begins to unsnap the clasps of her plate armor with surprising ease, as if the armor was a natural part of her. Setting the armor neatly aside, but always in her view, she stands up tall and straight. Beneath the armor she was wearing a simple sleeveless tunic that offered the chance to see her stature beneath the armor. While her face was of a gorgeous woman, her body was that of a fighter. Her arms were strong, and scarred. Years of military training toned into smooth, powerful muscle.
She steps forward and begins following the Captain's lead, noting his actions and following suit. Moving to bring him any wood he may need or assist in any measurements. While working she opts to let the more diplomatic folk ask the questions.
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Arriving a little late due to a particularly riveting conversation with a dockworker about that time she bested a minotaur with two fearsome blows -- she still has it's taxidermy head on her wall--Lovissa stalks up to the group.
Upon hearing Rasvelg speak, Lovissa exclaims. "Hail and well met Rasvelg! I am Lovissa of the line of Halenbane!" She switches to another language and continues for a few beats.
She offers him her hand for an Ulfen-style handshake, more of a hand clasp and a pat on the back than anything.
"Need a pair of hands? I may not be a skilled shipwright, like yourself, but I've a strong arm."
Lovissa joins Amelia in helping Rasvelg.
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"Experience with ships? Well... not as much, but I do keep my body in peak physical condition. If you would allow me to change into attire more fitting rough labor..."
Marcus swallows his pride and makes his barbarian might useful in a constructive manner for a change.
"I have actually spent some time aboard an Ulfen ship that was frozen in a glacier... While a few sections were severely damaged it was remarkable that it remained mostly intact. Your work seems influenced by such fine seafaring vehicles."
Marcus will try to butter him up as he lends a hand.
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While not surprising given their shared country of origin, the repartee between Lovissa and Rasvelg moves quickly from cautiously familiar to broadly familial, with both the occultist and the shipwright trading stories and jokes alongside technical quips about building styles, materials, and techniques. Rasvelg seems comfortable with just about everyone else, and moreover thankful for your efforts in helping him complete patching the hull of the carrack over the remainder of the afternoon and into the early evening. Afterwards, he invites you all to his favourite tavern (Rosie's) to share a mug and some dinner. While eating, he shares what he knows.
“There are some tunnels that crisscross Ridonport, used by smugglers in days past," he says in a low voice, difficult to hear over the din of the tavern. "Vernisant likes to say he drove crime out of Ridonport by sealing them up years ago, but I remember there’s one tunnel that opens up underneath the Saint Lymirin Street Bridge over the main canal. I’ve also been told that barges with no lamps lit stop under the bridge late at night.”
After finishing your meal, Rosvelg stands up and takes his leave, thanking you all sincerely for your efforts today. "You've truly borne my load with me, and for that I am grateful, in more than words.
Rosvelg unbuttons his leather vest, takes it off, and hands it to Lovissa.
[b]"A gift - blessed by my sweat. I hope it doesn't smell. Once per day, you may call forth the command word - 'ahoy' - while wearing the vest to bring forth all the mundane tools you'd need to complete whatever craft you're working on. I won this prize in a competition as a carpenter's apprentice, but frankly I don't need it anymore." He looks pointedly at Lovissa. "You've got some bright ideas, Lovissa. I'd love to see you put your mettle to work one day. You know where to find me if you'd like to share. Farewell all, and good night." And with that, Rosvelg takes his leave.
The group finds itself eating and drinking at Rosie's, a tavern two streets over from the Saint Lymirin Street Bridge.
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While not surprising given their shared country of origin, the repartee between Lovissa and Rasvelg moves quickly from cautiously familiar to broadly familial, with both the occultist and the shipwright trading stories and jokes alongside technical quips about building styles, materials, and techniques. Rasvelg seems comfortable with just about everyone else, and moreover thankful for your efforts in helping him complete patching the hull of the carrack over the remainder of the afternoon and into the early evening. Afterwards, he invites you all to his favourite tavern (Rosie's) to share a mug and some dinner. While eating, he shares what he knows.
“There are some tunnels that crisscross Ridonport, used by smugglers in days past," he says in a low voice, difficult to hear over the din of the tavern. "Vernisant likes to say he drove crime out of Ridonport by sealing them up years ago, but I remember there’s one tunnel that opens up underneath the Saint Lymirin Street Bridge over the main canal. I’ve also been told that barges with no lamps lit stop under the bridge late at night.”
After finishing your meal, Rosvelg stands up and takes his leave, thanking you all sincerely for your efforts today. "You've truly borne my load with me, and for that I am grateful, in more than words."
Rosvelg unbuttons his leather vest, takes it off, and hands it to Lovissa.
"A gift - blessed by my sweat. I hope it doesn't smell. Once per day, you may call forth the command word - 'ahoy' - while wearing the vest to bring forth all the mundane tools you'd need to complete whatever craft you're working on. I won this prize in a competition as a carpenter's apprentice, but frankly I don't need it anymore." He looks pointedly at Lovissa. "You've got some bright ideas, Lovissa. I'd love to see you put your mettle to work one day. You know where to find me if you'd like to share. Farewell all, and good night." And with that, Rosvelg takes his leave.
The group finds itself eating and drinking at Rosie's, a tavern two streets over from the Saint Lymirin Street Bridge.
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Marcus looks over at Lovissa and whispers. "I think he liiiikes you."
Once their work is done, Marcus changes back into his Taldane finery and immediately feels much better. Despite finding himself performing manual labor, he is quite happy with the result and seems in good spirits throughout their meal. "Hrmmm.... well we have a new... lead is it may be. It seems as though our next destination is the Saint Lymirin Street Bridge... myesss. And of course we have several other leads to fall back on should this strike a dead end. Although I'm not sure of what value I'll be inspecting a smuggler's tunnel. My skill has always been in negotiation and dueling. Smugglers are... not known for their adherence to classical dueling rules."
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Badriyah waves a friendly good night to Rasvelg and then turns to Lovissa with a glance at her newly acquired vest. "What a kind and generous man. Odd he would give something of such value to a group of near strangers."
With a shake of her head and shrug of her shoulders it's clear that Rasvelg's intent behind the gift to Lovissa is lost on the alchemist as she nods agreement with Marcus.
"Yes, I think you're right Marcus, checking out the bridge seems like a good next step, especially since it is so close."
Dropping a few coins on the table to cover her meal and a generous tip, she stands ready to leave with the others.
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"Blessed, indeed!" Lovissa exclaims, clearly not caring whether it smells or not. She stands and accepts Rasvelg's gift with all seriousness. "The pleasure was ours, Rasvelg. Thank you for your help, my friend!" She puts it on with pride.
Lovissa's grin widens. "Perhaps, I would. But it sounds like I'll be out late skulking around a bridge. Surely you don't work such long hours! Where do you live? I'll bring you a drink if I have time."
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Once he leaves, Lovissa laughs at Marcus' comment. "Of course he does! I thought that much was obvious." She gently elbows Marcus and jokes "And what man wouldn't, hey?"
Lovissa pays her tab and buys a bottle of whiskey for later. Then she grabs her gear and heads out into the night with the others, on the way to the bridge.
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Amelia smiles throughout the dinner, clearly enjoying the food and drink. "Is this a mission or a vacation? I'm eating better here than I ever have!" Despite her clear enjoyment for the food, she still pays close attention to the briefing the Captain gives, but grins sheepishly when he talks with Lovissa.
When the Captain departs, she leans over and whispers to Lovissa. "You're a real maneater, seducing the clothes off of a man the night you met him!" She gives her a playful laugh before starting to clean up her finished meal.
When the group finishes and readies to depart for the bridge, Amelia's normally happy and friendly demeanor is notably diminishing with each moment. After a few minutes away from Rosie's, she finally speaks up. "If there's even a chance we might run into trouble, I need to... change." Her voice is shaky, and she pauses. "Violence can cause me to lapse anyway, and it's a bigger problem when I'm not ready for it. Can we please wait just a minute?"
She steps aside, leaning her back against a nearby wall. Be strong Amelia, you can do this. Don't let them see you as weak. She takes three deep breaths, removes the helmet from her waist, lifts it over her head...
...then whips the helmet back off, throwing it to the ground. Her arms instinctively wrap around herself in a tight hug and tears start to well up in her eyes. From behind gritted teeth she whispers a shaky "D... Dammit..."
She avoids the looks from the party as she waits until she's calmed down and then, hesitantly, tries again...
This time the helm stays on, and her quiet whimpers are suddenly replaced by a cold silence.
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Lovissa laughs loudly at Amelia's joke. "If you think I'm bad, Amelia, you should meet my Mother!"
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As they approach the bridge, Lovissa nods at Amelia. "Of course. Equip yourself as needed."
When Amelia suddenly starts crying, Lovissa cocks her head in curiosity. She picks up Amelia's helmet off the ground and holds it until Amelia's ready to take it back.
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When you use object reading you detect that the helmet is non-magical and its "owner" envisions themselves not as Amelia, but as a suit of Gray Maiden armor. Amelia herself is oddly absent from any impression on the helmet.
When the sounds of Amelia's distress cut away, the figure stands tall and with the posture of a soldier at attention. The stance, while shifting only so slightly, seems to have gone from inviting to imposing. The red twisting ponytail coming from the helmet serves to give the knight a royal, authoritative appearance and it's almost hard to tell that just a moment ago the person before you all was Amelia.
At Lady Finley's question, the Maiden answers. "I am better than alright, your concern is unnecessary." Her hand moves to the hilt of her longsword, drawing it and giving the air a pair of quick slashes as if to test her arm. Seemingly satisfied she does similar with her shield, hefting its weight in her arm for a moment before returning it to her back. Without addressing the rest of the party she resumes their walk to the docks.
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"Fascinating." Whispers Badriyah softly to herself when Amelia's change is complete. Taking an involuntary step backward when the woman who was Amelia suddenly slashes her blade through the air, she quickly tries to compose herself by checking up and down the street to see if anyone else outside of their group may have noticed the glint of drawn steel in the night.
Unfortunately she's much to distracted to notice anything beyond the glare of the nearest street lamps, so she turns back to the others and lets out a soft breath at Amelia's much more martial and formal nature.
"If all is well." She says hesitantly. "Then I suppose we should keep moving."