Dot.
Dot.
I'll need another day.
Everything in the Puddles was rotting. The buildings, the wagons, even the people. This was not really surprising considering everything in the Puddles sat in standing water. The low area of the city had always been wet and flooded badly during high tides or storms. More than a few notable local buildings were fashioned out of old ship wrecks that had washed ashore. After the latest round of earthquakes though, the district was underwater even at low tide. When high tide came in….there were streets in the Puddles where you could drown.
The Green Mast was no exception. The large, aging Inn was slowly rotting into the standing water, which stood at nearly knee height throughout. The tavern, built out of the forecastle of some long-lost shipwreck, had been a fixture in the Puddles for a generation. Time s were hard through, and the place was nearly empty, with only the most determined drunkards making their way to the soggy tables and chairs.
It was not an inspiring sign for Flori and Latharien. That their contact, some local community minded man named Rafleck, wanted to meet here did not bode well for the pay. People with coin (or taste) did not come to the Green Mast. Still, the pair was just starting out. Beggars could not afford to be choosers, after all. A job was a job and at least standards would not be high, judging by the locale.
Shadow wasn't liking this. Flori's big cat companion, like most any cat, hated water, and if there was an abundance of anything in the Puddles, it was water; everywhere, all the time. His devotion to his master was such that he padded on, shaking his paws in a futile effort to dry them before stepping yet again.
It's okay, Shadow. We're almost there. Flori Starkin followed her pet, her thick, dark hair moving softly in the breeze coming off the shore. She seemed a bit overdressed for mucking around in the wet, her elegant figure dressed in a stylish ensemble only interrupted by the hip waders she wore to keep it from ruining her garb, and the chain shirt underneath, which didn't make it fit too well. With her deep blue eyes and fine features, she might be mistaken for a pretty young noblewoman, were it not for the sizable falchion strapped to her back, and the morningstar and dagger readied at her belt, just visible under her cloak.
There it is, said her other companion. Looks like we'll have to wade on in. There's no dry ground at all.
The elf was right. The Green Mast seemed to be in a more flooded area, surrounded completely by knee-deep seawater. Latharien Setiva was likewise dressed for the wet, if not so stylishly as the human woman he accompanied. He wore very utilitarian gear, with a harimaki wrapping his thin belly over a loose shirt, a rapier hanging from a baldric at his right hip, with a dagger on his left. He was tall and pale, with big green eyes and long, straight blond hair, tied back in a ponytail, as elves often wear it.
They went inside, water dripping as they found a table above water level, and ordered pints of ale. Flori used her wizard cloak to cast Prestidigitation, a spell that could dry and clean both her own clothes, and the wet fur of her cat. If she never used the robe for anything else, it was worth having just for that.
This better be worth the candle, Lothorian said. Got another Prestidigitation for me?
Sure, Lefty, she replied. Now keep an eye out for this Rafleck fellow.
The ale arrived, tasteless and potent as the surroundings. They drank to Calistria, hoping for a chance to have a little fun and make a little coin.
Luckily, before more of the flat, watery ale has to be drunk the contact arrives. He has the unhealthy look of a plump man who has gone hungry, bags of skin and dark rings under the eyes. Balding, with only a ring of darker hair, the middle aged human makes for their table. He wears the usual leather and old clothes common in the district. His high-gait and careful step also mark him as a local.
he hardly notices the water as he comes up and bows, nervously, in front of Lothorian and Flori.
"Good day." he says, wringing his hands. 'I hope you found this place easily enough?" He looks at a seat, then obviously decides to stand, rocking back and forth a bit. More then once he glances towards the door behind him.
Yes, it was no problem. I'm Flori, and this is Latharien. You may sit, if you like. Come, tell us what has you so worried. How can we help you?
The man looks at the seat, wavers then sits down on the edge, hands still wringing.
'I...I was told you can help people who have problems?" The man stammers, and then, seeing the ale gulps down a whole tankard. It seems to steady him.
'Problems that the Muckrakers cannot solve, or...even problems they may be a part of?" His voice is steadier after the ale, but he still glances towards the door a few times. "I have run out of people to turn to, official people anyway."
I see. Well, there's nothing official about us. Why don't you stay where you can see the door and tell us what your problem is. We're good with that sort of thing, or so we like to think.
Rafleck moves his chair so he is facing the door. The waves he makes splashes Shadow, but the baldlingman ignores it, and leans against the soggy wall with relief.
"My name is Rafleck and I am...well, not a mayor, but a local community figure." he says, trying a pale wan smile. "Of a few blocks of the Puddles near the Little Inner Sea. Do you know it?"
The Little Inner Sea is a part of the Puddles which is nearly a true lake. After every storm, ships are washed in and salvaging them is one of the true real jobs in the Puddles. It can be profitable, even if very hard and very dirty work. The houses and buildings fronting the slimy, scummy pool are the most sought after in the Puddles (although that is not saying much).
"We are being pushed out. The locals I mean. A local landlord has hired some bully boys and is trying to run us out of the area, so he can tear down our houses and build a landfill on the spot. Can you believe it? We have tried fighting back, but we aren't fighters." he rolls back a sleeve and he has a nasty shiny bruise there.
"The landlord is a old dwarf named Dalgus. He has always been a nasty sort, but kept to himself until this whole disaster." He shakes his head. 'Can you help us?"
I suppose we could look into it. Where does this dwarf live? We could look around and see what he's doing with his "bully boys" and perhaps discourage them. We can't have people pushed out of their homes, such as they are.
We could take a day or two to size them up. It shouldn't be that hard. A little snooping should tell us what we need to do.
Refleck, still nervous says, "Dalgus lives on old Blizzard street." He gives directions to the house, which lay in the slightly nicer parts of the district, where the water was only ankle high (most times).
'He built himself a little fort, and some thugs around it once the fighting started. one of our local boys tried to burn it down, so he is a bit jumpy about security." Then, with a glimmer of hope, "Do you think you can do it?"
Lefty looks at Flori. Do you feel like checking it out? I kinda do.
Not much in it for us, I suppose, but taking down a would-be tyrant sounds kinda fun, Flori replies, a mischievous glint in her blue eyes.
Very well, the elf says.
He turns back to the balding man. You're in luck, Mr. Rafleck. We just happen to be in the mood to take down a few bullies. Meet us back here in 72 hours. We'll either have useful information for you and your fellows, or we may have eradicated the thugs. That's really up to them.
The two avengers offer a handshake, and wait calmly for Rafleck to make his exit.
'72 hours..." the man says, obviously thinking hard. Then his brow smooths and his f ace clears. "Why didn't you just say three days, like a normal person?"
Then, realizing he may have been rude he stands and bows, 'Thank you, very much." Then, 'Stay safe." And he exits the Green Mast moving fast enough o leave a little wake behind in the water.
Need some help with preliminary reconnaissance, Lefty?
Flori knew the answer, but she asked anyway.
Not right away, no. Let me get ready. With that, Lefty pulled out his spellbook, and sought out a quiet corner to prepare a couple of spells.
After a few minutes, Lefty has prepared a couple more spells, and goes out to reconnoiter. He doesn't need to get too close to the "fort," really. He wants to see what it looks like, how deep the water is in and around it, and get an idea of how many thugs are guarding the place, if any.
He'll use his hat of disguise to look like a different elf with different hair, clothes, height, etc. He'll decide what to do once he's determined what the place is like.
Flori will wait until Lefty gets back. They'll leave the bar together and talk about a plan.
Leftly strolls around the area, trying to get a feel for things.
It is rather pathetic, really. A large stone building, rather rambling looking, with a slate roof and many windows. A rough wooden palisade has been thrown up around it, bound with wire. The main 'gate' has two bully boys, bored and trying to stay out of the water, which is only ankle high here.
The street in front of the place is empty though, and Lefty spots a watcher across the street posing as a beggar. There may be more but it is hard to tell. He also spots a thug or two inside the little compound.
All the men are armed with clubs but he sees a few swords and spears as well. Nothing special however, no sign of casters.
A sad little king of a sad little hill, the elf thought to himself. If Dalgus were taken down, who would rise up next? There's money to be made from that sort of work, but it's not great. He wanted to know why it was so worth fighting for.
He returned to the Mast, keeping an eye out for followers, to speak with Flori.
The lovely ranger wasn't having a very good time. The place was drab and depressing, the company uninteresting and creepy, staring at her with whiskey-red eyes. Shadow lay curled atop her table, keeping dry and keeping the men a good distance from her corner of the room.
She busied herself with a pitcher of cheap ale and her embroidery kit, making a little wasp patch to sew on some item of clothing or other, a talisman of her faith. She was relieved to see Latharien return so soon.
That was quick, she said, putting her kit in her pack.
There wasn't much to see, the elf replied. A ramshackle fort with a few thugs laying about. I think we need to learn more about the situation here. What's this dwarf about? For that matter, what's Rafleck about? Let's learn some more, starting here.
The 2 of them will try to gather information around the tavern and general area.
What they do next will depend on what they learn.
The Puddles aren't a place that is fun to canvass. The dirty water, the dirty inhabitants and dirty looks are enough to quell even the most hopeful, leaving behind a nervous, distrusting people.
Still, they learn a few things. Rafleck is a well-regarded community leader, with a small family in the highly desired area near the Little Inner Sea. Rumor has that he has some gold socked away, found in old wrecks.
Dalgus, the dwarf, has less notoriety. He was just another slumlord in a district full of such men. Apparently a Absalom native he had never stood out until this recent plan to evict many of the citizens living along the Little Inner Sea. A devout worshiper of Torag, he didn't let his faith make him compassionate. So far he hadn't had any issues with hiring dock thugs and such to rough up opponents of his proposed landfill.
On the landfill, no one really thinks that is the truth. No one knows what the truth might be but the Puddles is a horribly place to try and build a landfill, except maybe the land is worthless. All the garbage would float away! This joke is made several times, until Lefty grits his teeth.
After a couple hours, Flori decides she's learned all there is to learn for now. I've had enough of this place for one day. Let's go home and think on it.
Lefty had no objection, and Shadow was glad to get back to dry ground. I'm thinking what we need here is a little diplomacy. I say we talk to Dalgus directly, try to see his real intentions with the Little Inner.
Are you crazy? Why do you think he'd talk to us? Flori interjected.
Not us, so much as you. You're persuasive. I think I can use a little magic to make you even more so, if I can find the right spell. With Eagle's Splendor, and a little luck, you could get him to cut off his beard.
And if that doesn't work? the human said, incredulous.
We can always just fight, if he won't see reason. You're good at that, too, the elf said with a wink.
Flori sighed. I guess so. Something's got to give. Might as well be him.
Flori will go home, eat, etc., while Latharien goes out seeking a wizard who knows Eagle's Splendor. He hopes to trade a spell he knows for it.
If he can find the spell, he'll want to be quick about it, then get a night's rest. He needs to copy it and pay the cost before the day is over.
Lefty much prefers walking around the Docks then the Puddles. Less scummy water for one and more interesting people second.
He finds a rather drunk wizard off an Andoran ship willing to trade with him and soon Lefty has Eagle's Splendor. He copies it and all before hitting the bed that night.
When the pair wake up tomorrow, the small apartments they have are damp. It as if the Puddles have decided to pay a visit. But no. It has merely begun to rain outside and the cheap roof can't hold out the wet. Shadow's hair is a smell miasma in the thick air. A mist is rolling in off the ocean, blanketing the Docks.
Lefty learns the spell.
The 2 specialists talk about their plans over breakfast. They discuss what they want to know, and how to learn it. Lefty's plan isn't very solid, and relies on a lot of iffy magic that doesn't last long.
So, we have about a five minute window? That doesn't sound too promising, Flori said, the doubt plain on her face.
I know. Let's just treat this as an exploratory inquiry. I want to know what he really wants to do with the lake if he can get it for himself. That would tell us why he's doing all this. And, I admit, our chances of learning much or changing his mind at all are slim. Any clues we can garner might help us answer that question. If we fail, we fail. I don't see him killing us for poking around a bit. Lefty guessed.
What do I even say? “Please stop what you're doing?” That's not gonna fly.
No, the elf replied. Let's just ask what his plans are and act interested. Like we might want to invest, if it sounds plausible. We're looking for clues about his plans, not a signed confession. If he's really up to no good, we can get real authorities involved, not just Muckrakers.
Lefty casts Mage Armor on himself as they leave to pay the dwarf a visit. (5 hours)
When they're very close, but still able to hide from any prying eyes, Lefty casts the following spells:
Message (50 minutes)
Shield (self) (5 minutes)
Detect Thoughts (5 minutes)
Eagle's Splendor (Flori) (5 minutes)
They then hustle to the gate.
Flori, in her fine clothes and blessed by Eagle's Splendor cuts quite a sight, coming up the walk. The small wash of water and rain only seems to make her glow. Even the fog merely becomes a glowing halo around her. Her walk is strong, commanding, poised. Her eyes flash with power and light. Behind her Lefty is a shadow, hardly worth noting.
"Um, hello?" One of the two guards at the rough palisade gate say. It is a primitive construction of wooden doors and tarred hinges. Both guards, local thugs apparently, huddle under a small awning to keep out the drizzling rain.
Hello! I'm Ms. Starkin. Flori gushes, extending her hand gracefully. I'd like to speak with Master Dalgus about his operation here. I represent a group of "discreet" investors, and we're curious about the opportunities to be had here. I'm sure he's busy, and I promise I won't take much of his time. She bats her baby blues flirtatiously.
Lefty says nothing, keeping an eye out for anything out of the ordinary.
The guard who spoke adds, "Investor?" He looks completey at sea, but finally calls inside. "Barl, go inside. Tell Dalgus he has...investors out here." A younger man goes into the house, slipping through the guarded door.
The two guards at the gate assume more professional stances but eye Flori rather indiscreetly. They obviously don't often get such eyefuls down here, in the Puddles.
"Even if he does see you, you'll have to turn over any weapons and your man will have to stay here." he points to Lefty, who is looking around, trying to appear innocent.
Very well. I'll leave my weapons outside with my servant. Variel, take my weapons to the coach and wait for me there. These gentlemen will see that I'm safe.
She nonchalantly removes her weapons and hands them to Lefty.
Yes, milady, he replies. He somewhat clumsily straps them to himself and starts off into the fog. He'll move out of sight and listen to know if she's let in, then he'll try a new tack.
Lefty vanishes into the fog carrying the weapons. He doesn't make the perfect servant, but the Puddles aren't exactly high society. They wouldn't know a good servant if it bit them.
Soon Barl returns and says, "The boss will see you.".
'We'll have top search you, ma'am." One of the gate guards says and then searches her, thoroughly. But he doesn't take TOO many liberties.
After that Flori is led up the walk, briefly pauses at the outside door then is led inside the house. It is well kept inside, but nothing special. Some furniture, a few cheap bits of art, some poorly made tapestries. She does note the house is built to be dry however, and the floor is carpeted (if cheaply). This makes it quite valued in the Puddles.
After a few moments she is led into a study, filled with musty old books probably half rotting. The room is small and cramped, cluttered with old furniture. In one over-stuffed chair sits an old, dwarf, bent with age. His face is lined with years and grime.
One half of the room is divided by a simple screen which looks hastily place there. The screen is completely solid and allows no views of the other half.
The dwarf stands as she enters, bows and says, "I am Master Dalgus, at your service." His words are polite and Puddles native.
Meanwhile Lefty is ankle deep in cold water, the fog has thoroughly dampened him, and the light drizzle caps it off. He sees Flori vanishes into the house and the gate guards close the entrance, going back to their small shelter.
Lefty will make sure he's unobserved and cast Invisibility on himself, well aware of his five minute window, which is probably closer to four, now.
Counting on the rain to help muffle his movement, he goes back to the gate, slowing to half speed when he's close.
Testing the mechanism, the elf retrieves his tools and works to open the lock, if it's locked, watching to see if the guards notice anything.
Inside, Flori exchanges mild pleasantries, though she won't reveal who her "investors" are without Dalgus divulging what he's up to.
Inside Dalgus exchanges some polite conversation but finally asks, "May I ask how you even heard of my little real estate transaction here? It hardly ranks on one of the big plays in Absalom. We are often ignored down here in the Puddles, so I am surprised to see a woman of your rare quality here."
The story we've heard is that you're planning on a landfill. That seems a bit absurd, given the environs here. My clients suspect there's a better, more profitable reason for your efforts here. They're always eager to help a good idea get off the ground, and it looks like you could use a little help.Flori says, looking around, unimpressed by the decor.
The story we've heard is that you're planning on a landfill. That seems a bit absurd, given the environs here. My clients suspect there's a better, more profitable reason for your efforts here. They're always eager to help a good idea get off the ground, and it looks like you could use a little help. Flori says, looking around, unimpressed by the decor.
Dalgus leans back and eyes Flori, still radiant and wreathed in her spell.
'Well, I do plan on putting a landfill her. I am hoping I can channel the filth down the Siphons and out into the Sea that way." The dwarf nods, sending his black beard bobbing but then adds, "And of course, it is a good location for other, more varied ventures." His eyes, carefully flick to the screen then back.
Lefty will dig out his grappling hook and toss it up, a reasonable distance from the guards. If he holds on to it, it will stay invisible.
That will make it almost automatic.
Once inside, he'll unhook the rope and quickly stow it, and whisper to Flori through the Message spell. I'm inside. I'll be close soon.
He moves, looking for the obvious path to where they are, and start the Detect Thoughts process when he hears the dwarf.
More varied ventures? I think we're getting to the interesting part, now. Do go on.
D.T.,
Dalgus smiles but leans back. He grabs a pipe and starts to smoke it, the scent rich and fragrant above the molding books. "Perhaps we are. But really, such things are meant for those who need to know. Do you need to know? Who sent you? I understand if you hold back names, but who in general? Merchants, adventurers, the Aspis perhaps?"
He'll start detecting Dalgus's thoughts in 3 rounds (Will save DC 17, and it doesn't work).
I'm listening, Flori. Go for it!
Not Aspis, just some reputable folks from some of the more established houses, some connected to the Council, who like to keep things quiet and smooth. If they like what I tell them, you're likely to meet some of them yourself, Flori says, with a sly grin.
Come on, now. A landfill isn't much. It could serve as a cover for where the real money comes from. It could work very well, in fact.
Dalgus smiles revealing one gold tooth. "Indeed, but real money comes with real risks. What if you are not a friend but a foe? Maybe your mysterious allies want to beat me out to this business?"
Outside Lefty feels the room though his spell. Quickly he realizes there are three beings in the room, not two. One is Flori's who he can sense with easy and two unfamiliar ones. The rouge focuses harder trying to sense the surface thoughts.
From Dalgus he gleans some thoughts.
"I will have to be careful. revealing how much she knows without giving any of our plans...Also, I hope she leaves before Asmara gets here...I wonder if she has a spell cast..."
The mind is a blank wall, revealing nothing.
Lefty again whispers to Flori. Outside in the hall. Have your blade. Let's go soon. Two minutes.
Lefty listens to hear her thoughts. She doesn't have to whisper back.
Flori says, I do not represent a syndicate, Sir. These are moneyed people who like things to run smoothly. We can facilitate any number of things to your advantage. Give me something to tell them. If they like what they hear, you'll be contacted.
She looks at him, a bit impatient, but not tapping her foot.
Lefty doesn't recognize the name but it sounds odd, not local that is for sure.
Dalgus ponders Flori carefully, then looks at the screen pointedly. There is nothing but silence then the dwarf says slowly, "Tell them the Puddles may soon be exporting items of value." He smiles, 'Instead of dirty bandits and sodden rags."
"Now, if you won't tell me more, report to your betters. Perhaps they can send a more forthcoming and serious contact next time. I have a busy day ahead, and really must insist." He waves at the door, the guard enters to lead Flori out.
Thank you, Master Dalgus. I think you've been very fair. You should expect some discreet communication from some people who can help you move things very soon. Adieu, Sir. Flori rises and curtsies, then marches smartly towards the exit.
Out we go, Flori. Quicker the better.
Lefty moves to get out the door asap.
Once outside, they'll head to the docks as fast as they can without running.
The fog fades away as they escape to the Docks. Here the sunny day has burned away the white wisps, and it is another busy day at the commercial center of Absalom. They find their apartments as usual, comfortable and less damp.
Flori is not that surprised to hear that Lefty detected 3, not 2 minds in the room. Dalgus had been obsessed with a screen, but she saw no one. The dwarf was consorting with someone. But who?
It was clear that he had some secret plan with this being. There was another person, Asmara, who he was going to see right after Flori. She combed her memory, but also drew a blank.
The only clue they had was the name. They'd have to find out if anyone knew who this person was.
Back to the Puddles, I guess, the elf said.
Shadow hates the puddles. Can't say I'm too fond of the place, either, Flori replied.
So, having no better option, the avenging duo went back to the Puddles, canvassing the bars and bazaars once again, to see if anyone knew of someone named Asmara. It seemed an uncommon name, at least. Perhaps they would get lucky again, like they did earlier.
They get very wet, very fast in the Puddles. The marketplaces tend to be wide-open, flat squares, sometimes knee deep in water. Still, it is an active place with everyone selling items ranging from rags to food to magical items. It is a good place to gather information, even though Lefty and Flori stand out a bit.
They gather that while no one knows an Asmara, it does become apparent that it is a gillmen name, that strange race who helps guard Absalom's prisons and some other harbor work. The race is rare on land but the Puddles is one of the few districts they enjoy and visit.