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”Ahh, the big one speaks! And he speaks words of wisdom, at that! I see that my guests are both astute and observant indeed! However, you underestimate the Amazing Zograthy! You do not realize that I, in fact, deal in the secrets of the multiverse, rather than simply abuse it!” At this, he pulls out a small vial filled with a milky-white substance, showing it to the three before stowing it in one of his robe’s many pockets. ”Alas, despite what outsiders such as yourselves may think, there are.. ways to come across such substances easier than one would expect, and I am in no need of extra sources, especially from outsiders I barely know, let alone trust.”
”So, the answer to your.. proposal.. is no. My previous offer still stands: Fifty gold, or begone.”
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As the "Amazing" Zograthy turns down the perfectly reasonable offer presented to him in such a smug manner, Radyx snaps internally.
"#$#@ this."
As the "prophet" removes his hand from his robe, Radyx leaps to his feet, grabbing the mans hand and holding it down on the table, while Radyx's right hand deftly removes the axe from his belt, all in one quick motion.
Before the man can cry out, Radyx brings the edge of his axe up under the man's chin, saying calmly, "Shhhhh. Didn't see that comin', did ya bub? Keep quiet for a moment while I provide you with a bit of clarity."
Maintaining a solid grip on the man's hand, leaning his weight onto it to hold it in place, Radyx continues, "You don't have any idea just how much shit we've had ta put up with today, and quite frankly, I for one am sick of wading in it. Now, here's our new offer. You give us the information we wanna know, and we'll trade you this pretty little hand I have here," squeezing Zograthy's hand for emphasis.
"Your right, there are plenty of ways to get yourself a little bit of this or that to help take your mind off the...stress of life these days. But, I do believe that, historically speaking, a good hand is hard to come by."
Radyx lifts the axe and runs the edge of it along the man's forearm. "Granted, I can't see the future, like you can, but tell me, if you've seen it, did you happen to see if you had this here hand? 'Cause, if you did, that means you made a very good business transaction in the next couple of seconds. You gave us the information we want, with no tricks or surprises, and I gave you back your hand, in perfect condition. I'm not sure of their going rate, but a hand in mint condition and perfect working order is surely worth more than fifty shinies, wouldn't you agree, fancy pants?"
Radyx tilts the axe's edge back perpendicular to Zograthy's forearm, as if ready to chop, then asks in the same calm tone he has been using, "So whatcha say, bub, we got ourselves a deal?"
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Ferit suddenly has the feeling that things are going well inside and farts loudly in approval.
Wilhem allows Valko to take the lead, though he does give him a concerned glance at his line of questioning. When Radyx takes matters into his own hands he backs away from the sudden motion, knocking over his chair as he stands, and then sighs at their new predicament. Even if this did get them the information they needed, Zograthy must have some contact with the locals, which could make things... difficult for them. He certainly wouldn't have been against putting some pressure on the man but something a little more... subtle would have been his preference.
"I may have only met Radyx this morning, but I assure you it's no idle threat. I suggest you give us the information you possess, and then we will leave you in peace." he says calmly, bending to pick up the chair and replace it, though he remains standing with his hands on it's back. "I would hold off on any thoughts of retaliation you might be contemplating too. I'm sure you're aware of how the current administration looks down on those who avoid evade their tax collectors.."
Completely surprised by the sudden act of violence, Zograthy is caught off guard by Radyx and sits completely motionless for a few seconds, his eyes wide in both surprise and terror as he listens to both Radyx, and later Wilhem, speak. After the two finish speaking, he slowly recomposes himself, his hand still in Radyx’s grasp and, remaining perfectly still, he speaks in a calm, relatively quiet voice, as if hoping not to cause Radyx to claim his hand.
”Yes, I know of Natalya Vancaskerkin - her current whereabouts are, however, unknown to me at this time, for she has not been heard from for some time. However, we here down on the Waterfront, not to mention over on the Dockway and the Underbridge, have been having quite the issue of late with missing persons. Dozens of native Varisians - including Sczarni - have gone missing. A few each week, with the numbers ever growing. Few return, and those rare few that do are unharmed in body, but impaired in the mind, suffering from amnesia and other mental illnesses. While the leading theory on the streets is Nidalese slavers illegally abducting Varisians to sell over in Sandpoint and elsewhere, they are nothing more than rumors as far as I am concerned. I suspect she may have been one of the ones targeted by whoever is abducting the people.”
He clears his throat and flexes his hand as it goes to sleep under Radyx’s grip, before continuing, ”I do know, however, that you are not the only ones seeking Natalya out. Natalya was, at least until recently, a member of the Sczarni gang known as the Tower Girls, an all-female group of cat burglars. Word is that they are seeking her out as well, and that when they find her, she’ll wish they hadn’t. I have heard from them that Natalya had apparently went mad before her disappearance. That is all of the information I have on the subject.”
”May I have my hand back now?”
Radyx keeps his grip until he is certain Elfie and Fancy Pants have all they want out of him. If they signal they are satisfied, he will release the man's wrist.
"And just where do these Tower Girls hang out? Sounds to me like a place I'd like to mosey up to and introduce myself, even if I wasn't on business," Radyx adds with a mischievous look on his scarred face.
Still not in possession of his own hand and fearing what he's about to say might cause him to lose it for good, Zograthy almost winces as he speaks, though deigns to look Radyx right in the eye as he does so. "Such information is not my place to share with giorgios such as yourselves, even if I knew it."
Wilhem chuckles, amused at Zograthy's 'insult'. "We should be able to track that down ourselves. I thank you for your aid, and while it may not be the exorbitant price you asked, please consider it as compensation for your discomfort." Reaching into his pouch Wilhem withdraws one of the smaller onyx, and places it on the table. With that he turns and exits the tent, pausing only if one of the others speak up.
"We should leave." he says softly to the others as he emerges from the tent, waiting until they have put some distance between themselves and the tent before relating what happened.
Ferit trundles along behind the others. "Take it you lot found wot we came 'ere for?" he says in his whiny voice.
"Much obliged, friend," Radyx says as he releases Zograthy and exits the tent.
When they catch sight of the others, Radyx boasts, "Wasn't nothin'! He didn't wanna talk at first, but by the end he couldn't resist my charmin' personality. He told us everything he knew."
He takes up position with Ferit, pulling his cloak tighter about his shoulders now that he was away from the warmth of the man's tent. His head raises up with a start before blurting out, "Wait a second...what'd he call me?"
He calls out to Wilhem, "HEY! Fancy Pants! What'd that sunnova #^$&@ call me?"
"We got some information, though I'd focus more on stepping lively out of this festering pit. I don't think the manner of our departure is going to serve to ingratiate us to our host or the various thugs in his employ." Valko weasels his way into the middle of their assembly's throng, expecting a horde of Sczarni to descend upon them at any moment.
"Giorgio. The Varisian word for foreigners, or outsiders, often used as a derogatory term." Wilhem says calmly.
"Natasha's not the only person to have disappeared recently. People blame it on the rumored slavers but Zograthy thinks it unlikely, and I'd agree. He claims some of the people have reappeared a time later with mental problems."
"I think our most promising lead is Natalya's former associates. She was apparently a member of an all female Sczarni gang called the Tower Girls. Zograthy reports that she had a falling out with them shortly before her disappearance, and they are still looking for her to express their displeasure. I believe we may be able to take advantage of their efforts. Tracking down an entire gang should be rather simpler than trying to find a single woman."
"Good 'nough. Let's ask around and sees what we can sees," Ferit says.
He spends the next three hours offending people with his stench and poor manners as he wanders about the area inquiring after the Tower Girls.
”It is apparent then that my assessment of at least one of our number proved to be accurate, good job.“ As he speaks, Isroth motions towards Radyx, indicating who he speaks of. ”Only this one, “ he motions to Hoosible, ”Has yet to prove his worth beyond his artistic skills. Time will tell then, I suppose. It is probably best that we leave this festering stinkhole and seek refuge elsewhere. Night approaches, and despite our formidable number, we best not wander about.”
The group, leaving Zograthy’s and the Washer’s Row altogether, find themselves relatively unharassed, though certainly followed by the Sczarni thugs from earlier. These thugs however, only accompany them until the group fully leaves the area, at which point they stop pursuit and return to whatever activities they were doing prior to the visit.
Ten minutes later, after having trudging through the snow-entrenched alleyways, the group finally reaches Splitriver Way, along with the respite that accompanies the less-snow covered road. It is here that they must plan their next moves - besides Ferit, who prepares to go seek out the Tower Girls on his own apparently, doing his best at what can only be described as an orc asking for directions from random passerby.
”I do not believe he will succeed in his endeavor.. and it is getting dark. Perhaps instead of searching blindly in the dark for a group of girls that apparently seek to remain hidden, given that even a source of information from the Sczarni themselves does not know their information, we should instead seek the authorities again - this time, however, going about asking for information more diplomatically, since it is apparent that the Cyphermages do not have as much authority in the city as they should. It has been numerous hours since our last visit - we may not have to speak with the same plebeian as we did before. We can ask of them information on both our primary target and the gang she previously consorted with. It would be better than what he is doing, at least” Isroth motions towards Ferit as he finishes, the orc having just scared off a trio of women who ran away from him screaming - but from the smell or his rude manners, Ferit couldn’t be sure.
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Patiently trying to get his cold fingers to weave correctly, Hoosible doesn't seem to flinch or react when Isroth questions his usefulness, though he smiles when referred to as an artist.
He still doesn't appear to be listening when the topic moves on to planning but after a few minutes of conversation the ashen gnome looks up from his flowers and says, "Heading back to the constabulary seems reasonable...and I think we have a midnight slave run to look into, down by the fishery. If there's time to look for Tower Girls in the middle, that's fine."
He then starts fiddling again with his wreath.
"The nights come early these days. I would not like to be out in darkness more than needs be, but if the Arvensoar proves to have valid information then it may prove worthwhile." Wilhem adds his own opinion, ignoring Isroth's observations on usefulness. "Might I suggest that those who spoke up at the Arvensoar earlier remain outside. Less chance we will be associated together and sour any cooperation they might be willing to offer."
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Radyx rolls his eyes, "Yeah, sure, go for it Fancy Pants. Just don't be forgettin' who it was that got ol' Mr. Prophet to talkin',"
He nudges Charbonardent with his elbow, adding, "C'mon Big Boy, lets go find out how much ale you can put down before the 'tender closes yer tab. Whatcha say, squirt? I bet he can put down at least 4 pitchers in 5 minutes or less!"
Charbonardent is more comfortable in the outside cold than in all this gathering information stuff. He follows the group looking for a fight or at least someone to casually beat.
The group, deciding to check the Arvensoar one last time before attempting to seek out the Tower Girls on their own, find themselves fortunate as they travel through the Lowcleft to reach the lower portions of the Arvensoar. For it is at dusk -and just after- that Lowcleft ‘awakens’ each day and the activities begin. For the Lowcleft isn’t your usual district - its the home of the city’s ‘avant-garde’ and artistic community. It is here, just after sunset, that many establishments that cater to tired and half-frozen workers come to relax after a hard days work finally open their doors.
And it is here that Radyx, Ferit, Hoosible, and Charbonardent stop while the rest go visit the Arvensoar - at a building with a rather elegant entryway, appearing to be an arch into a beautiful pastoral glade that brims with sunlight. A curious encounter if there ever was one, the group decides to stop here when the sign on the front calls the building a “Class 3 Inn”, which, according to that, just happens to include the first tavern they’ve seen since leaving Washer’s Row - an establishment known as “The Dreaming Dryad”.
However, upon entering the arch-way of the two-story building, the group instead finds themselves walking into a heavily carpeted, darkly lit and rather cramped corridors. Despite the place being kept warm from the outside, the group finds themselves unable to find the so-called tavern the place is supposed to have. This is quickly rectified when they are approached by a well-dressed Varisian man, who introduces himself as Vert Klydus, approaches them and shows them through a series of winding corridors to a larger, slightly-more lit room with numerous couches and tables - a room that happens to look nothing like a tavern.
”Please, make yourselves at home! Warm yourselves up, and I shall be right back!”
Quite possibly curious as to what in the hells they got themselves into, yet dubious at the odd establishment at the same time, the four end up taking seats on various couches in the room, Charbonardent nearly smashing one to the ground as he does so, all in the hopes that this places does end up being a tavern, albeit an odd one.
Moments later, Vert returns with a tray filled with an odd assortment of goods, ranging from hookahs and their assorted ingredients to vials filled with suspicious looking liquids or powders, to various filled needles. He lays the tray down in front of the group and makes a sweeping motion with his arm with a flourish. ”Tell me, what’ll you have? All goods are clean and of the highest quality, and private rooms are available for those seeking seclusion.”
Meanwhile, the rest of the group, including Wilhem’s entourage and Valko’s assistant, make their way to the Arvensoar for a second round of attempting to get information from the headquarters. Entering the building from the bottom, rather than the top this time, they find themselves in a similar room as before, wherein a tired-looking, Varisian woman sits at the clerk’s desk going over paperwork. Though obviously tired and busy, the attractive, yet muscular, woman looks up at the group and attempts her best at a smile in greetings. ”Welcome to the Arvensoar.. may I help you?” Although attempting to be polite and friendly, she’s quite obviously tired and wishing the group would go away so she could get back to her work.
"Yes... Sorry to bother you so late, but we're trying to track down an associate. We've had no word of her for several days, and fear something might have happened to her. We believe she might have gotten mixed up with some of those Sczarni, the uh... Tower Girls? and then there's been those disappearances lately. Please, is there anything you can tell us? Her name is Natalya. Natalya Vancaskerkin."
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Ferit grins at the sight of all the illicit narcotics. "That depends, what've ye got govna?"
Sighing that her visitors actually require her for something, the woman scratches her head and brings out a large book before dropping it loudly on the desk and flipping through it, mumbling the name “Natalya Vancaskerkin” as she does so.
”Ah here we go, Natalya Vancaskerkin. Runs with the Tower Girls.. apparently she’s been more mixed up with them than you were aware, since she has been part of their gang for quite some time. A petty burglar, known for quite a number of small time second-story robberies, various heists, blackmailing, cons, illegal use of magic without a license, consorting with wanted criminals.. the list goes on. An associate you say?” The woman raises her eyebrow at Wilhem at this, before shrugging and mumbling something under her breath about “Don’t look like a Sczarni to me.”
”Lets see.. news of her disappearance is new to us here at the Arvensoar. We certainly haven’t picked her up, and in fact have a small bounty on her capture for the previously mentioned crimes. If her disappearance hasn’t been reported, it comes as no surprise - the Sczarni are known to take care of their own problems. The Tower Girls would know more, obviously. Now, if you would excuse m-”
Interrupting her right at the last second is the person least expected to talk out of the bunch; Al’cazar. ”This one tensed up at the mentioning of the disappearances. Then, she skips answering the question. Why?” He points and frowns accusingly at the officer.
Sighing in exasperation, the officer looks reluctant to speak on the matter. ”I’m just frustrated with all of the rumors circulating that the city doesn’t care about the disappearances. We’ve looked into them again and again - the so called ‘Nidalese Slavers’ operating illegally has turned up false each time. Sure, we do have such people operating in the Market of Sails.. but they’re doing so legally, and we’ve investigated them thoroughly. And its not like we haven’t been finding some of the people who go missing. No, the disappearances aren’t anything particularly odd - with the weather, combined with the city’s hardships in the lower reaches and the constant gang activity, its little wonder people disappear. As far as the city is concerned, the case regarding the disappearances is closed.”
Despite speaking truthfully on the matter of the disappearances, you have a strong feeling she’s holding something back, but doesn’t want to say more. It will probably take some nudging to get her to say more, however.
”Ah, all sorts, all sorts! Lets see!” Motioning around with his hand and pointing to each individual curiosity as he names them, he reads out the list of what he has available. ”We have three different types of Pesh - normal, black, and golden - Opium, Scour, Shiver, Fayleaf, Harlot Sweets, Slaver’s Drops, Dreamtime Tea, Keif, Zerk and, a recent import, Dwarven Fire Ale, a hot commodity as of late. The ale is kept safe elsewhere however - but if you’re interested in some of that, I can certainly bring some out!”
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(Success)
(Failure)
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(Failure)
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(Failure)
Ferit wrings his hands together and licks his lips. "OoooOoooh! We'd love us some Zerk...Lovely, buzzy, Zerky. How much fer a stick?" he asks, pointing to one of the syringes and making a jabbing motion at his arm.
Vert smiles, his jagged scar running alongside his face in full view, almost making his face look like its grinning more than it actually is. "For first time customers such as yourselves.. the first dose is on the house! A gift, for who I hope to be recurring customers!" At that, he gives a slight wink.
"Or.. perhaps future business partners. You four look like adventurous types, no? Digging around in the more unsavory labyrinthes of the world? Fighting all sorts of.. unsavory things? You see, " As he speaks, he motions for Ferit to take the syringe he was interested in, "I am always seeking new.. substances.. to add to my menu. It is how I recently came across the Fire Ale, in fact! If you were to bring me something interesting - say, the harvested poison of some dead creature, perhaps some fungal spores, anything interesting - I'd be more than willing to pay you for the effort. Its not like you'll be going out of your way, after all! And, if you prefer, I'd be more than willing to pay you in narcotics of your choice, if you'd prefer that over coin."
He smiles, wondering what the group has to say as he finishes his proposal. "What do you say?"
"Sounds lovely! Oi'll keep me peepers peeled," Ferit says, snatching up the syringe. He ferrets it away in his clothing for later enjoyment. "The minnit we find somefin, Oi'll bring it straight 'ere."
Radyx casually takes himself a syringe as well, tucking it away beneath his furs.
"Ya wouldn't happen to have some ale or mead here, would ya buddy? While I got nothin' against the wares ye've offered, I was lookin' forward to a plain ol' mug o' the good stuff to take just a bit of the edge off of a long day."
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Valko sidles up to the clerk's desk and begins rummaging around through his pockets for something substantive . It has been a particularly annoying day thus far, and he has no intention of spending the rest of it matching wits and argument with a records keeper in the Arvensoar.
"Listen," Valko says with an exasperated tone, "we've been yanked around this city all day, each time from one corner to the next. We have been mired all day in the sort of scum you are no doubt subjected to here at your desk on a daily basis. So, as one annoyed civil servant to another, I propose we dispense with the usual run-around involved and cut straight to the crux."
Valko produces a platinum coin, pressing it down against the desk's surface and sliding it across the table towards the woman. His finger remains affixed to the coin, pressing it down firmly. "Tell us what you truly know and we'll be out of your hair faster and more permanently. The alternative borders on reliable harassment. Frankly, I think we'd both like to avoid that sort of tedium."
Charbonardent sits down gingerly next to his orc and human companion. Not hearing anything appetizing on the menu, he shakes his head to reply to the proprietor. When the proprietor leaves their table, he asks, "Orc, what is that stuff?"
"It'll make 'e fast and strong, but the hangover's a reeeeaal b~#~!," Ferit chuckles to the half-giant.
The woman eyes the coin for a moment, thinking over Valkos ‘proposal’, before looking up and into his eyes, before sighing again. ”The curious thing about the disappearances is that all of those who have returned? They were all gainfully employed. Laborers, merchants, shopkeeps, fisherman - things like that. They returned unharmed and, in almost every case, the same as they went missing, albeit suffering from a case of amnesia. Each of them turned up living as vagrants, with absolutely no memory of where they were. As for the other disappearances, such as those from the Sczarni and the like, it appears none have returned, nor trace of them have been found. Its as if only those who would be missed were returned, while vagrants, thieves, and the like weren’t. As far as the city cares, thats all that matters, and we have had bigger things to deal with, such as the rising crime rate. Its likely, however, that we haven’t seen the last of it.”
She stops for a second and scratches her chin in thought, before continuing, ”Perhaps.. perhaps since you seek a missing person yourselves -a Sczarni, no less, who likely won’t be one of the ones who return, if you can figure out what’s going on with the disappearances, we might be able to reward you for the efforts. Say, two-thousand gold between the lot of you? I’m certain my superiors would be thankful for getting the problem taken care of - yet we can no longer spare any personnel to investigate it further. What do you say?”
”As for the woman you seek, Natalya - seeking out the Tower Girls would indeed be your best bet. However.. tracking down any of the Sczarni gangs to contact is difficult at best. The Tower Girls, however, have recently changed their headquarters due to a falling out with the larger Sczarni gang known as the Wreckwash Blades. None of our informants have yet been able to figure out their exact location, but it is known that for a while, they were slumming it up in an abandoned sea-side warehouse in Underbridge with a rather disreputable local known accurately enough as Fenster the Blight, a man who’ll do anything for the right price. Your best bet would be to visit him - and I can provide you with directions, if you wish.”
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Hoosible sniffs curiously at the plate of oddities. His eyes widen when he recognizes the scent of Oendwali, what Vert refers to as "Dreamtime tea".
The gnome takes a big, nostalgic whiff of the dried-citris-and-dung scent and chuckles. "This was one of the first gateways that Gej used to open my eyes to the Wendo -- together with the smoke of the bark of the cassia tree, and a nectar fast." His eyes get even more far away than usual, as he thinks of his now-dead master. His revery is broken when he carelessly sets the dried tea down, only to have the invisible wendo who swirl around him mischievously send it flying into the nest of Charbonardent's red hair.
"Arrgh," he snarls, "Stop it!" And then muttering under his breath he points to the mess they created and concentrates while it flies back to it's place on the tray.