Shifty PFS Group Bravo (Inactive)

Game Master Nik B.

Ambrus Valsin.

Your initial training in the ways of the Society complete, you are finally summoned for your first score. Before you know it, you are in a room full of relative strangers, and endure the strange sense of discomfort that a room full of relative strangers brings with it. You are barely into your pensive introductions when a figure you recognize as Ambrus Valsin comes into the room, flipping looseleaf pages as though grading exams. He seems very intent on his reading, only vaguely acknowledging you all as he enters. He grabs up a pen and jots down some notes before looking up and staring at you for silently yet studiously, as though appraising, Then he barks.

“All right, Pathfinders! Listen up. I know you are new recruits eager to make names for yourselves in the organization, but first we need to make sure you are up to snuff and won’t get yourself killed out there. I have a number of small assignments for you and your team, and it would be best if you could finish them before the day’s end".

“Every day we get some doe-eyed hopeful or some sniveling bootlicker willing to do anything to join up with the Pathfinders. Most of them are good kids, but not all of them have the salt to make it in a world like this. It’s rough out there and I’m not just talking about the ruins, tombs, and wilderness Pathfinders find themselves in on missions. We’ve got people who look down their noses at us, folks who think we squander our resources, and agents who want to take everything we have collected. This wealth of knowledge and these items of lore make us the most powerful organization on the planet. That said, since we are fractured and widespread, it’s difficult for that power to light on anything for too long. For every friend of the Society, there are two enemies" he looks about, almost accusingly.

“Your first mission, to test your mettle and loyalties, sends you to meet a few people important to the Society living here in Absalom. These are other venture-captains or close allies of our organization, so follow their orders as you would mine. I’ve prepared a list of things I want you to do. They’re not arranged in any particular order of importance, but I want them all completed as quickly as possible. Only report to me once you complete them all. Included in the envelope you hold in your hands is the list, complete with the name of your contact, and directions to the meeting location.” He finishes speaking, purses his lips almost as if in a challenge, and simply looks at you all.

His eyes slip the envelope expectantly.
Note.

Raoul's eyes grow wide as he glances over the task list. "I say we go see the Chelish Paracountess first. I've heard some, interesting, tales about her from my former travelling companions, and I'm quite interested in seeing if these stories are true."

He then looks around at his fellow companions, "However, if anyone has strong feelings about starting with one of these other tasks, I won't object - as we will have to attend to the Paracountess sooner or later no matter what."

Here I am finally. I have a good feeling about this meeting. Finally I can set off and join the search for my parents. I'm coming mum and dad.

Standing in the room with others he hadn't seen before he takes a quick look around. A dwarf, two half-elves, an elf and a gnome. Nodding to those who met his eyes but saying nothing he turns as Ambrus enters the room. He fiddles with the dagger handle in his belt, slightly nervous but then stands straight again. It seems he thought of them as nothing more than novices. Florentine would have to prove himself, he tried to stand even straighter though that wasn't really possible. He was no doe-eyed hopeful or bootlicker. Every moment here was another moment that necromancer went free. He was eager to complete the tasks asked of him.

He opened the envelope and read the note. He wondered if the others received the same tasks or not. Perhaps they were meant to work together. He did say team didn't he?

"You can count on me," he said to Ambrus then turned to the others. "Florentine. Or Flo if you like... I guess we'll be working together."

Aran leans against the back wall, his eyes going from person to person in the room. Seems he was surrounded by riffraff, but at least it was for the right cause. It wasn't the first time he had had to deal with less than savory folks, and he was certain it would not be the last. He listens to Venture Captain Ambrus, then the elf and the human, nodding as he does.

Looking back to the elf who spoke of seeking the Paracountess, "Perhaps, first we should introduce ourselves before we go and bother the nobility. It would behoove us to not look like fools before our superiors. Wouldn't you agree? Following that, I would prefer to look at this from the most direct route...Absolom is a large place, and I would prefer not to needlessly walk all over the city..."

I may be a bit slow the next two days, as I have a wedding to go to out of town and I'm not sure if my hotel has internet (small town B&B)

Jivokun absent mindedly spun a dagger in his palm while he and the others waited but quickly sheathed the blade when Ambrus walked in...well, the small talk is over... He read the list when it was his turn and passed it to the next one.

Well met Florentine. I am called Jivokun. None of these places are familiar to me. Are any of you local?

"Aranan Aldori, at your service," Aran says as he nods. As he says his 'last name', his fingers trace the pommel of the sword on his hip. The well made blade matches the rest of his clothing, finely made, but without a great amount of gilding. He seems to have a fine upbringing by both manner and gait, but not the finances to go along with it.

Leaning on a stout rucksack strapped and bulging with all manner of dungeoneering gear, the stout dwarf chimes in,"I've been around these parts to be sure, but I am not so sure I would want to be running off to see a Chelish anything as my first point of business. She is sure to keep us there all day acting as though she has no idea as to why we've come. Paracountess at that! Probably has some of those idiotic man toys they love to keep about. Most of the time they don't even give you there real names. One of them introduced himself to me as "The Situation" whatever the hells that is supposed to mean." Scratching his chin as he reviews the note, he continues,"What about these orphans? Looks like it could be made quick work of."

Turning for a moment he calls over his shoulder,"The name's Slagtoes, Grogson Slagtoes. Almost forgot my city manners there."

The gnome had been sitting on the back of a chair, putting him close to eye-level with the others (and probably making the cleaners weep). Once the note makes its way over to him, he scans it, stands up (still on the chair) and cheerily declares "Hi, I'm Pozuket! Nice to meet you all." Absently folding the note, he goes on, "I think Aranan has the right idea. If we want to get this done quickly, then we should start with the closest one, then move out from there."

Raoul turns to Aranan with a look of mock horror, "Sorry, didn't mean to come across as uncouth. Well, I'm Raoul. And yeah, Grogson - from what I've 'eard the Paracountess don't behave herself as proper royalty." He gives Aranan a nudge with his elbow, "All the more reason to pay her a visit, know what I mean?"

"Perhaps we should save the Paracountess for last. Yeah, I agree with Grogson - start with the little 'uns. Do our good deed for the day and all that."

Jivokun chuckled at the dwarf's depiction of the Paracountess. He knew all to well how royalty liked to behave but he had been unprepared for the stocky warrior's humor.

Well let's not waste anymore daytime. Which one is closest?

"It does not bother me as to which task we complete first."

Florentine wears rather plain clothes. Though clean thanks to his sister. A forest coloured cloak hangs on a chair behind him and he reaches around to collect it again. "I'm sorry I don't have alot of 'city' skills. I have only been here a few months. Before that I lived on a farm in Taldor..."

Being the knowledgeable and Bardic type, Pozuket easily illustrates a layout of the city, and identifies your present location as the Grand Lodge, the shining heart of the Foreign Quarter.

Map.

Jivokun studied the map with interest...this certainly helps things...

How about we start with Mr. Guaril at the Docks? With luck the books he wants will be in one of the other districts that we have to visit. We do this right and we might be able to circle our way around the city. Or we could split up into two groups?

Florentine nods after looking quickly at the map. "You're right the docks are quite close. I suggest going there first. Hopefully his books are easy to come by. If we only have a day, perhaps splitting up is advantageous for us. Though it could be dangerous."

Raoul inhales sharply through his nose as he takes a look at the map. "Well, we've got Docks, Ivy District, Wise Quarter and the Ascendant Court. I think we could circle through these pretty smoothly - I don't see a dire need to split the group. Unless..." He then sniffs his underarms. "Nope, no offending odor from me. Sometimes when you get a group of these society blokes together, you get quite the funk."

Well done in all signing in! Moving this merry jaunt right along...

The party gathers themselves for the task ahead and departs from the massive fortress that is the Grand Lodge in the Foreign Quarter. Imediately after departing the safety of the Lodges walls they find themselves thrust into the rich multicultural tapestry of the area where people of all ethnicities and exotic races rub shoulders in a buzzing and vibrant atmosphere. A couple of Osirian carpet sellers pound your ears about the bargain prices of their wares, whilst opposite them a pair of Qadirans argue that theirs is the superior stock and to avoid the ‘cheaper Osirian imitations’; as they turn on each other in heated debate and momentarily forget about your presence, you are accosted by a Mwangi merchant keen on bringing you to his rare and exotic spice shop.

Eventually making your way through the Foreign Quarter and its delightful scents and sounds, you find yourselves entering the The Docks and the scents and sounds somewhat less pleasant. It is a bustling area where longshoremen constantly load and unload cargo destined for Absalom's markets and elsewhere. The district itself appears a rather rough place, and the ubiquitous Harbor Guard seems to keep an uneasy peace as they patrol, not paying too close attention to the goings on around them, only really acting as a deterrent ‘to the worst of it’ On On the street corners and darkened doorways of the run down businesses and sailors dives, young touts announce the services of all manner of businesses, not many of them sounding like the sort of wares or establishments you’d find in the upmarket areas; the names of the various taverns and inns involving at least a double entendre or some grim sounding fate and a mythical creature, with the names of the brothels even more lurid and suggestive.

Whilst the party travels through the district, you all catch on to the the fact that you are being watched, followed even, as in such a busy place you note it strange to see the same face pop up more than once, unfortunately your group realisation occurs just as you pass a small crowd of roaring drunk sailors and by the time you have moved clear the face is gone.

Gauril Karela.

The Pickled Imp is a rather typical run down Docklands premises, easily missed amongst the many dubious and shady looking enterprises around it. This creepy shop contains myriad odds and ends, most bereft of any discernible use. A number of malformed creatures and creature parts bob in jars on a long, prominent shelf, a tiny fetal devil centered in this macabre lineup. The shopkeeper, a greasy-haired Varisian with a thin mustache, shouts from behind the cluttered counter: “Ah yes, I see the Pathfinders have arrived. I’m glad Ambrus was able to lend a few of his new recruits to help me. Please come in and let me tell you what I need.” Looking around as if to be absolutely certain no customer are browsing the aisles of knock-off Thuvian burial urns or supposed Azlanti porcelain, he begins again. “Well met. I am Guaril Karela. A friend of mine has a warehouse near here and he received a parcel on behalf of me and some of my associates, but there’s a problem. See, Master Gelbane had to leave town in a hurry and our shipment is still waiting at his warehouse. Rumor is he ended up in trouble with the law and the place was seized. I heard tell from someone down at the docks that some creep was snooping around his warehouse just the other night, so I want to make sure nothing of mine was taken. He keeps all kinds of things, from beer to nails, in that old pelican, but every now and then he stores something really special. This is one of those cases”

His eyes dart between you all, but before anyone can ask questions, he continues as though everything is agreed “There’s a big crate marked with three crows arranged in a triangle. Inside that crate is a smaller container with a few books and papers in it. That’s the only parcel I’m interested in, and as far as I’m concerned, you can help yourself to the rest of the crate. Honestly, anything else you want in the place too. I’m sure the once things get sorted out, the city will seize most everything else anyway. “My associates and I often work with the Pathfinders when it comes to special relics and documents, getting them in and out of ports and across borders where the authorities ask too many questions. Most people don’t realize what they have and frankly many don’t deserve to have it, so sometimes we help take the goods off their hands. If things work out well and you get this done, I’d be glad to talk with you more and help you out with any future endeavors, as long as you help me out too. I’m good at returning favors, trust me.”

Seized by the law, huh? What happens when we go do down there to have a look and end up seized,too? We got some papers proven that crate is somethin' what belongs to you?"

Florentine takes in the sights as they walk, slightly more accustomed to the big city than his first day here, nevertheless he still couldn't help but stare at some things.

He nodded when Guaril addressed them. The pickled Imp was not the kind of place he would come himself, he had to try not to turn his nose at the look of the place. Likely he would have to visit such establishments in the future and would have to get used to it. He put on a smile for Guaril. "Can we expect anyone guarding the warehouse?"

He looks to Grogson with a knowing and understanding expression, "Look there is paperwork, but we don't have it all right now, and with Master Gelbane being so hard to reach, especially without drawing too many unwanted enquiries, well it would probably be best all around if the items that were ours were simply taken quietly and discretely rather than have all the lengthy and unwanted delays of chasing up the proper channels, you know how these things are, so slow and prone to unforseen delays at the hands of the Harbor Guard...we could be waiting a long time, and who knows what tax or levy they might invent...so unnecessary..." his expression is now set on reassurance.

As Florentine makes his enquiry, Guaril turns from Grogson to answer the question, "I shouldn't expect any no, you see it's all a bit derelict down there, the warehouses in a bit of poor repair and this one is no exception. Woth Gelbane not being about to pay a guard, and the Harbor Guard being stretched as they are, no one would really have an interest in guarding the place really... of course, there are always patrols" He smiles again, teeth flashing with a salesmans comforting warmth.

"I see....Well, this is not really an issue. I am sure we all agree the proper papers do,in fact, exist. What of magical deterrence? It seems when the dogs found unnecessary it is due to the lack of need. When my crowbar pops that door or first crate, am I gonna get a blast rune in the face for my troule?"

"Magical means of protection? Such an extravagant expense for a warehouse full of beer and nails, though of course, anything that might be of significant interest might warrant such a caution, though I would suggest such an artifact would stand out rather clearly in there...are any of you skilled at working with such measures?" He looks around with a raised eyebrow, as if suggesting he migth be questioning some of your recreational and professional interests.

"You'd be surprised what a dwarf would do to protect beer and nails, mwahahahaha!"

Being a slightly naive young man Florentine believed Guaril to be honest about the 'paperwork'. When the dwarf asked further questions putting doubt on it, he wondered if the contents of such a warehouse were legal.
Sense Motive: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (14) + 2 = 16
Master Guaril seemed truthful enough. Florentine was glad he wasn't breaking into anothers property for illegal goods. Hopefully they could rescue the man's contents before the rest of the warehouse items were seized. "We must leave at once then, before a no good thief sees the unattended warehouse and thinks to have a look for themself."

Jivokun didn't understand what all the questions about legality were for...we were tasked to assist this man in getting ghis things and that's what we need to do... He was glad it seemed like the rest were on board despite misgivings so he didn't have to persuade them into it.

He nodded at the Varisian and added.

We'll get your things Mr. Karela.

Before heading towards the door and the milling crowds of people that were outside...hopefully I can catch a glimpse of our unseen follower...

Aran nods, taking it all in. This isn't exactly what he thought he would be doing with the Pathfinders, but you had to start somewhere.

"Before we depart, is there a key to this warehouse or do we have to get in the old fashioned way?"

(No net, posting from phone)

Raoul listens to Master Guaril while thinking to himself, "This guy seems keyed in to type of work that I could be a part of." He looks around the interior of The Pickled Imp and supposes that it is just the type of place to conduct less 'upstanding' business.

He speaks up, "So, get in the warehouse, find the crate with the three crows, get the package of papers and books and then help ourselves to anything else? I think that can be done." He then flourishes his theives' tools in front of Aranan, "No worries, I've got a key."

Gauril nods in appreciation at all the reassurances that his crate may soon be retrieved and returned to him, at Aranan's question he responds "That is a tricky one, the key, alas, is with Gelbane, and as we know, he is missing so with him the key too..." he is still smiling reassuringly and pondering his next suggestion when answered by Raoul and his lockpicks, "And there is a solution, a resourceful one, and a resourceful man who can solve problems will always have work in Absalom..."

Aran nods, running his thumbs along his belt, hand once again finding the pommel of his weapon. If anyone were to watch him, they would see how often he touches the weapon, almost as if he is making sure the weapon is there...or perhaps finding comfort in it being there.

"Then let's get going, we have a lot to do today. I'm hoping to make it back in time to enjoy a nice dinner tonight," he says with a smirk as he turns to the door, a slight flourish of his cloak as he moves smoothly.

Florentine was satisfied and ready to go get the man's items. Looting someone else's warehouse didn't sit well with him. He hoped the others only got what they came there for too. He takes off his hat and brushes his fingers through his hair before replacing his hat. "Well what are we waiting for. Let's get there before someone else does."

Gauril looks to Pozuket with a flash grin, ”Of course, who would wish to make such a mistake, and such an embarrassing one at that, though so easily done in a place where one warehouse looks the same as the next. This one is the Seaspray, look for its natty little post at the piers out to the Pelicans”

With everyone so keen on setting off, he waves you farewell.
Where relevant, I presume that any sort of knowledge of general nature would be shared amongst the party, per the below, or as per the previous example. If, on the other hand, you think your character would NOT share such information, please let me know – otherwise I’ll try to work in the odd roll here and there to add a bit of RP into the posts – not to take away any of yours of course!

Pozuket talks as he walks, providing a bit of colour and history to the journey and explains the background of ‘Pelicans’, or ‘pelican warehouses’. These buildings perch at the end of piers, allowing a ship to load and unload farther out from the busier docks. Many of them either accommodate smaller vessels that are in a hurry or larger ships unable to find an open dock. Rare these days, most pelican warehouses lie in disrepair, withered from storms and salt, and every year it seems another one falls into the harbor.

It is Raoul that continues on, explaining that an increased tax on this type of property keeps many of the owners from rebuilding and some have even relinquished the titles to their small warehouses, allowing them to fall into the hands of squatters and smugglers—or into the bay itself. He further explains that smugglers sometimes use small boats to slip under the warehouse, sawing a hole in the floor or prying boards in the night, and sneaking in to loot the place or just drop a crate into their boat from above and paddle away in the night.

Between the two scallywags, they seem to have a good knowledge of the local ‘goings on’.

The pier this pelican warehouse sits on stretches 100 feet from the boardwalk and the docks proper, and stands 15 feet above the water. The planks on the pier are sturdy but weathered. A few local fishermen and some kids sit scattered along the pier casting nets or bobbing lines into the waters below; the warehouse itself appears to struggle against its own roof, threatening to sag into the bay with the next stiff wind or heavy squall. No light shines from the building’s windows and only the movement of gulls and pelicans stirs the scene.

Map.

Closer inspection reveals that the building looks abandoned and in disrepair. The windows are dark and dirty and provide no view into the structure’s interior. A small boat bobs in the water below, tethered to the pier by a stout, salt-crusted rope. The warehouse’s entrance is a heavy wooden front door, and the loading door facing the water skirted by a rather small ledge. There appear to be no signs of any guardsmen or the like, your only company the casual fishermen and children who seem to pay no attention whatsoever to your comings and goings.

Raoul breathes in the salty air as the group walks down the pier towards the warehouse. The dilapidated look of The Seaspray doesn't concern him in the least. His time with Chelish pirates has taught Raoul that many times the most worthwhile goods are found in places where most of society would fear to tread.

As the party approaches the warehouse door, Raoul mutters to himself, "Well, Guaril said there aren't any traps, but let's just make sure." He begins to examine the door, looking for any signs of any traps.

Perception for Traps: 1d20 + 6 + 1 ⇒ (8) + 6 + 1 = 15
The +1 is from the Trapfinding Class Trait.

Quite unimpressed with the warehouse in it's current state Florentine remarks, "I doubt we will have trouble getting inside. It looks ready to fall over from a gentle push." He inspects the boat and remembers what Raoul had said about smugglers. "Perhaps we could use the boat to get inside, or take a look around the back."

Perception in boat: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (16) + 6 = 22
Florentine gets into the boat letting the experts get past the door security. He waits a few seconds incase another felt like accompanying him as the boat seems big enough for two, before untying the old rope and maneuvering towards the back end of the warehouse.

Raoul takes a knee at the doorway, his Elven eyes flicking across the surfaces of the door, examining the handle, and inspecting the lock. Nothing seems to stand out to him as particularly untoward, the rather typical appearance of the old door suggests it is matched with its rather typical lock... which is indeed locked.

Florentine likewise examines the boat, and finding it surprisingly serviceable and sturdy he readies to make his way around the pier to reconnoiter its exterior. He notes that the boat is of a smaller size though and suitable as a tender; whilst it could get under the pier, the side doors of the warehouse are still fifteen feet up and designed to offload cargo onto larger vessels and would be problematic to reach from this vessel.

We decided for a daylight approach,huh,lol?

Making small talk about the state of the facility, Grogson begins to form a plan for entry that will not look like an assault on Belzkan. "So how do you guys prefer to do this? It seems that only a couple of us is nimble enough for that route.",he gestures to the ledge."But if you are quick enough with them tools we can all enter without much notice, not that we weren't identified long before now. I have most any tool we will need to get in and I brought my drill for a peep hole to give us look before leaping."

Grogson continues his negotiations with the group, meanwhile only the seagulls appear to be showing any real interest in you, mistakenly thinking you could be fishermen arriving with their next meal.

We only have 1 day to do these tasks after all.

After realising he won't be getting up the back way he decides to do an inspection of the underside in case there are holes in the floor or other dangers to entering such a rundown building, all the while hoping it doesn't collapse on top of him.
Perception on underside: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (9) + 6 = 15

Raoul turns to see Florentine getting in the boat. "Nobody wants to go for a ride with Flo over there? 'Tis a lovely day for a sail."

Turning to the dwarf, "Grogson, right? Don't be so paranoid. I can't imagine the society sending us on any task that's too fraught with peril on our first assignment." He chuckles a bit too himself.

Having determined that there are no traps on the door, Raoul gets to work on opening the door.

Disable Device: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (3) + 7 = 10

Edit: Man, should've just taken 10!

Jivo took the others somewhat impressive knowledge of the area to heart and filed it away for further use. He watched Florentine get into the small boat and shook his head at the thought of joining him...there is no way I'm getting that deathtrap unless absolutely necessary... He scanned the Docks to make sure no one was giving too much attention to the group.

Perception: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (10) + 7 = 17

As Raoul fumbled with the lock the half elf had to agree with the elf's assessment of their tasks difficulty but wondered at his afore bragged upon abilities.

Do you need help with that?

Raoul's face flushes with embarrassment. He steps away from the door and faces the half-elf.

"Hmm, it seems I could use a hand with this." He avoids eye contact with the rest of the group and fiddles with the seam of his leather armor.

No problem.

With no ego Jovkun steps up to the door to try his hand at the lock...its all about working together... He retrieves his picks from his pouch and sets to work.

Disable Device: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (8) + 7 = 15

"If you says, elf, but that bravado has ended up with more than fella becoming a permenent addition to a crypt or vault, haha." Pulling a crowbar from his pack he pipes,"May need this if those don't work."

Pozuket eyes the windows. Maybe this door will be easier to open from the inside, he thinks, as he looks to see if there's a broken window large enough for his small frame to fit through.

Perception: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (9) + 6 = 15

Aran shakes his head as he keeps an eye on their surroundings, watching and waiting for anything. He did not like, potentially, being on the wrong side of the law and he knew deep down that if this was what all of the Pathfinder Society had in store for him, he wouldn't stick around long. He suspected it had to do with working with Gauril and he did not foresee himself continuing to do this in the future. He knew this day was no doubt to test his new companions and himself in various skill sets...and he knew that this was not his. Pulling his blade free, he gently leans on it, almost as if it is a cane, looking the most at ease he has since he joined the cadre.

"It seems your key was not as masterful as advertised, Master Raoul, but perhaps between the two of you, we can get the door opened," he chimes with a coy grin.

Going well so far guys, all having fun it seems :)

It seems that although Raouls work with the lock came up a little short, his knowledge of the Pelicans bellies proved true. As Florentine moves the small tender to the underside of the Seaspray, he notes thatone of the corners has sagged considerably and is significantly rotten, although no Engineer, it is pretty evident athat the decay is due to some 'smuggler modifications' done once upon a time that probably left untreated wood exposed. He can see that there are a few planks and a crate mostly blocking the hole to prevent intruders coming in...or maybe just uncomfortable sea drafts penetrating the warehouse.

As Raoul steps away from the lock, Jivokun steps in and after a short period the familiar click of the tumblers disengaging the bolt is heard. It dawns rapidly on Raoul which bit he missed, and now realises that his conversation with the Dwarf caused him to miss the precursor sound last time.

Pozuket manages to note that the window areas are still somewhat secure, and there wouldn't be a terribly subtle way to go abnout getting in without some 'hasty renovations'.

"Well done, Jivokun. Now, let us go within and take care of this bothersome task," stepping forward, his blade whips up slightly and he casts a quick spell upon his blade, which then begins to glow with the simple cantrip, Light, upon it. Pushing gently upon the door, prepared for anything as he peers inside. "I think a little light would be preferred for most, since these windows don't appear to be very forthcoming..."

Hearing of the successful entry to the warehouse, Florentine calls out, "Caution as you enter friends, one of the corners is quite treacherous. I'll stay down here just in case anyone falls in. Don't want anyone drowning on our first task now do we?" Staying away from the rotten area and realizing the other five could get the crate out with ease, he stayed under the warehouse. "We could even try that smugglers trick you were talking about Raoul if it comes to that." if the crate was difficult to remove from the warehouse, tying ropes around it and lowering it down could simplify things. Florentine smiled alone thinking himself clever.

"Indeed. Let us locate this crate with the sign of three crows, and be off before we are noticed by anyone who may care." As he steps inside, Pozuket mutters a spell for light of his own, causing four softly glowing balls of light, the same shade as his teal hair, to pop into existence and start circling his head. "Be wary, and the less we touch here the better," he advises over his shoulder. "Just because our target might not be warded, does not mean that none of the cargo left here has magical protection. Or even mundane protection against being opened inappropriately, for that matter."

Stowing his crowbar and hefting his axe Grogson moves in ahead of the others."Best for me to take it on the chin first, skinny.", the heavily armored dwarf says with a good natured wink as he moves past Aranan. "The gnome is right. Only the crate, boys. I have plenty of rope and brought along a block and tackle. If we need to lower it as Florentine suggests, then it shouldn't be a problem."

Florentine calls up his caution whilst maintaining a sensible distance from any likely cave-ins. The gulls eye his boat optimistically. One rather brazen gull lands on the edge of the boat as though expecting to find a meal.

Grogson begins putting away the crowbar, sad it didn’t get to bring a rather boisterous end to the locked door dilemma, whilst Raoul and Jivokun swap their ‘tools of trade’ over tools of trade of a rather more pointed variety. As Aranan lights up his blade, immediately shedding light into the room beyond, Pozuket seizes the day and steps past his fellows and into the threshold. Grogson slides past his smaller companion to examine the room beyond...

Just inside the door sits a handful of crates and kegs of beer. Most of these smaller crates and barrels appear to be marked as foodstuffs and appear to be in various states of freshness. Some crates reek of rot, easily noticed from the doorway. Stacks of simple coffins sit against the east wall. The rest of the crates stacked along the north wall contains simple sundries including, but not limited to beer, blocks of clay, coffee, coils of rope, dried fish, lead ingots,nails, nets, raw cotton, rough wool, spare sails, timber planks, various pulleys and tools, and cheap weapons.

Entry map.

Any last prep before Grogson commits to full entry of the area?