The woman answers Skarn Nah, supposedly not. I didn't hear any rumours that he did pay off his debt.
A former fortress on the north seafront, the stonework Inkwell inn is home to rowdy, defiant, impassioned revolutionaries who fill its commons while making plans to harry the town’s Loyalists and discourage the Chelish navy. Chankings, the inn’s noisy iron golem bouncer, keeps watch at the open doors.
The genial Chelish proprietor hands out freshly printed flyers to everyone who enters, with an advertisement for an upcoming performance printed on them ()
[spoiler=DC 14 K(local) or DC 16 PRC]
That famous poet would be Jaks Arunai, at least so the local buzz says.
[/spoiler[
Don't really know him. He is relatively new, this guy, and he's with the White Thistles. I'm just a fan of the arts, and the White Thistles' ideals are inspiring. The quill is mightier than the sword. Though anyone is welcome in here, of course, as long as they behave themselves.
|
"Ever take a quill to a sword fight? Reckon you'd be unimpressed by its mightiness" Pitbull quips back in jest, but behind the rough laugh there is clearly that nasty streak shining thorough again. She goes back to watching the bar, yanking on Asbo's chain to keep the creature in check.
"Maybe we wait in the corner or something" she mentions to the party.
The flyer lists the performance as being two days from now.
I can tell you where it is, but it won't help you - the performance isn't until Wealday, two days from now. You'll just find empty crates there.
The group makes its way around the half-destroyed town town. The group is eyed somewhat suspiciously as they move on, heads turn, and there might even be person or two shadowing them.
The throne defiant is a stately brick and wood manor, which was one of the few spared from the Second Ashes’ fires. Painted red with black trim, it proudly flies the current flag of diabolical Cheliax—though the flag is riddles with holes, tears, and burns from numerous attempts to destroy it. The interior is well-appointed, though even it shows signs of makeshift repairs and spats of violence.
Inside, a maid is currently shrubbing the walls, that have dark red stains on them. In the otherwise empty common room, a stately, elderly woman sits in a tall-backed chairs nursing a cup of thin tea, her brow creased with worry and the fringes of her long- sleeved dress still tinged in crimson.
If these Galtan agents are allowed to keep attacking Loyalist supporters like Rea Bellory in the inn’s commons what little order remains in Pezzack will be lost! They even stole her onyx pendant!
|
|
"I'm no Galtan agent. Never been to Galt. I have been to Cheliax though, plenty enough" Pitbull fishes out her Chelish symbols, and the insignia of the Order of the Gate - "Armiger" she grunts, as though the point should be clear enough "I'm Pitbull, these my friends, but they aren't Hellknights, just good strong people"
"What's this about a pendant?"
Pathfinder, your service to Cheliax grants you admission
into a Hellknight order of your choice with the rank of
armiger. You gain a +3 bonus on Diplomacy checks made
against Hellknights of any order or rank. Order of the Gate.
The woman is impressed by Pitbull's insignia, but remains somewhat tight-lipped. Bellory's pendant. The foul Galtans took it from her.
|
|
"You already told me that, I tell you I'm an ally, from Cheliax, and from the Hellknight order - you know, just right person to help you about necklace, but you still pulling funny face and not giving me more information so I can hunt down the dirty tip rats who stole the thing so I can go get it back. I don't know Bellory, I'm manhunting some other fugitives, but happy to help if you want to be happy to talk. By the looks of the flag outside and the wreck of a place in here, reckon you could use the help"
Diplomacy
Despite how pushy and angry as the Orcwoman comes across, in this case she must have hit just the right note.
That's the spirit. Good t hear there are still decent folk around here. Bellory’s gemstone was fished from the floor of Fat Harbor, part of a distant relative’s bequeathed belongings that sank with the ship carrying them during the Second Ashes. She is very attached to it, so it would mean a lot if you could recover it.
The attackers were dirty Galtans, that's all I know, really.
These filthy revolutionaries, where do they gather? If I knew I would have send some loyalists there to take care of them...
The woman doesn't seem to know a lot. Bones doesn't really recall much background info on her either.
The last thing I heard about Ciucci is that she took up work in Auntie's tavern in Docktown.
---
---
In Docktown’s chaotic jumble of ships, Auntie’s tavern still manages to stand out. Draped in bright curtains of white and red and bearing a huge, garishly painted former ship’s masthead of a woman as its sign—creatively augmented to hold two foaming mugs aloft, the three-story converted ship’s hold is perpetually packed with Pezzacki looking to drown their fears and boredom.
The proprietor of Auntie’s, an elderly halfling woman who goes by Auntie, gracefully weaves about the room, conversing with patrons and intervening when tempers flare.
|
|
Skarn almost goes unnoticed compared to his fellow Pathfinders, if it weren't for his trusted wolf companion. Patting her, he follows Rhanloi to the table and rests his limp leg for a while.
"Wine for me, please."
When the innkeeper comes with the order, he whispers to her as he flashes two gold coins for her to see: "You wouldn't have heard of a Phelerosa Ciucci, by chance?"
The pathfinders ease down a bit in this tavern. After some asking around, a woman comes up to Skarn, saying proudly I am Phelerosa Ciucci.
|
|
Skarn's wry smile somehow widens, to become amiable. "Well met, then! We've heard much about you, Mrs. Ciucci, by way of a common friend. I've somehow heard that you also were nobility. Is that right?" he adds quickly, his own signet ring out in the open. "I hoped we could meet in private and discuss important matters?"
He then whispers to her ear The Paracountess sends her regards.
You are connected to the paracountess? She leads Skarn to a private room, I must say that I would be hesitant to leave Pezzack, but your connection does change the matter somewhat.
I keep a record of someone’s exceptionally poor decision- making as leverage in case I ever find myself in trouble, and as a reminder about the folly of entering Infernal contracts. The devil always wins in the end, especially when the mortal is drunk
She shows a piece of paper ()
You see this? Read it carefully. Here's the trouble: Magarius Charthagnion is not his father’s eldest son, and House Charthagnion does not know where to find the only person who can repay the devil.
Bone quickly figures out that Auntie herself is the main source of local gossip. She knows something about Jacks Telandril: Jacks Telandril works odd jobs around Docktown, often having to do with building second and third stories onto new ships. I hear that he's up to his ears in debt. On top of that, he's trying to start a new magic business, here in Pezzack, and he's having an affair with that revolutionary playwright Amalia Wraxton.
Bones also learns about the Manukirt Trading Co. warehouse, which can be seen right across the street. A particularly drunk regular spills the bean on the warehouse, though Bones is glad he's not spilling anything else A “begoggled ghost”, youvv'got to believe ME. He juzz.. dive -hic- into the water. Wazz on Sunday, I think. Thought he drowned, then comes out hours later with a white staff!
---
Ciucci agrees with Boram: Yes, it is time I leave this place, I see that now. House Carthaginian may need my help/