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You've developed notoriety as an adventurer, having earned the praise and acceptance of your peers ( well some of them ). During your journeys, you were happened upon by a courier whose message invited you to a meeting with the Golden Watch – a legendary group of accomplished adventurers whose deeds and exploits gave inspiration to bardic song and tale. Confident that the members of the Golden Watch could provide guidance, client connections, as well as experience, you had learned that they had last been seen in Cassomir, a city on Taldor's western border that overlooks the Sellen River and the free nation of Andoran.
While Oppara stands as the crown jewel of the empire, Cassomir holds its own as the second largest city and bustling hub responsible for Taldor's trading and commerce among the Inner Sea. After having been within the city for several days, you've learned that the Golden Watch has taken residence at The Swordpoint – an expensive inn which lies within the northwestern section of the Old Cassomir District.
At behest from an invitation, you're welcomed within a private chamber that overlooks much of the historic district – a collection of buildings that dates the city's founding. Though modest in size, the private chamber serves as a parlor complete with a small dining table containing libations and treats for the guests, several comfortable loveseats that are situated well within a small fireplace's warmth, and paintings depicting Taldor's landscapes line the walls. Upon a bench adjacent to a large window awaits a weathered couple – a caramel toned man with a warrior's body and his companion, a pale, thin woman with neatly piled platinum hair.
Allowing a small moment of time to pass, the elderly woman takes notice of your presence and beckons you forth.
“We are grateful that you came. This is my husband and long-time comrade, —we called him in our day—and I am . The two of us were once adventurers like you, and we, along with a few of our friends, have had more than our share of excitement in our youth and with our group – .”
She looks to her companion, who sits up to take a sip of ale, wiping his gray mustache with an embroidered cloth. He says in a weathered voice,
“Each year about this time, the remaining four of us gather together in this city to remember our fallen friend, , and to lend our experience to a cause worth fighting for. We can still face bullies and brigands and such, but my hammer gets heavier every time I lift it. I’ve meant for each of our last three ventures to be the end, but and I still travel here every year to meet up with and and to share a few stories with younger travelers like yourselves.”
He pauses for a long second, taking a sip from his ale and assessing the crowd of adventurers that stands before him.
“In another time, you might have been associates of my rag-tag team!” he said with a hearty laugh. “Being that you've heard about myself and Branda here, it is fitting that yall should introduce yourselves! Are we not fellow adventurers?!”
Laralai was impressed. A lifetime of adventuring had obviously left these two well to do, and the fact they were still fit to fight anyone at there age was an achievement. Simply being there age was an achievement, for that matter - so many adventuring groups didn't live past there first encounter with something more dangerous than a large rat before.
All told, these were powerful people. Her people respected age - those who could live to see it were usually the most powerful. So she bowed her head at Verus' words in agreement. "It is an honour to have such a one think of us as fellows," Laralai replied in her accented common. Of course, the accent was probably the most normal thing about her - a spellcaster carrying a greataxe, with a brutal mast hanging around her neck, covered in scars and tattoos...she knew she was a sight, and had accepted the stares as she entered the city as her due for being different.
Glancing around at the luxurious surroundings, Laralai was blissfully unaware of how her own, rough and ready clothing clashed as she looked around at the fine furnishing and opulent surroundings. Not that she would especially care if someone did point it out, but it made her stand out further still.
"What can one such as I do to earn the gratitude of the Golden Watch, beyond simply arriving?" The witch tilted her head to the side. "Even I have heard the bards sing tales of your exploits - dungeons sundered, foes slain, friends rescued. My own tale is barely a note beside yours."
"Yeah!" calls a smaller figure, sitting at a table nearby. A pair of dogs lay on the floor near him, much to the chagrin of the innkeeper. "They taught us a song or two about the Golden Watch at the Rhapsodic College. Though I've always wondered how much of the song is true and how much we added in? Bards like to embellish stories, you know."
Reaching for his fiddle, Pipernortin leaned back in his oversized (human-sized) chair, trying to recall the exact tune. He cast a glance around the room while he did, trying to get a sense of which other patrons had been summoned by the Watch. He had to admit he felt a little out of place, surrounded by so many folks armed with leathers and steel. He'd never really developed a knack with blades, despite having traveled for many years. Pip had always found it easier to defuse hostilities with a joke, a song, and a drink than a hard-won fistfight.Especially when those fistfights so often ended in his defeat.
Without any warning, Pipernortin jumped up, fiddle in hand.
"Aha! I think it went...
Five strong, the brave sort,
Of their travels, shall I exhort:
For no venture did they ever abort;
Lo, The Golden Watch!"
The gnome stopped abruptly, glancing down at his canine friends. The larger of them looked back up at him, its expressive eyes expressing the same confusion displayed on Pipernortin's face.
"I, uh, forgot the rest. It'll come to me, probably."
Rafaello swirled the wine in his glass twice, took a quick whiff of its aroma, and drank. Looking upon Verus and Branda, he felt as if he were gazing into his future. He hoped that he might age half as gracefully as these two- and at that thought, felt a pang of loneliness. It felt wrong, somehow, to be here among these legendary adventurers without Streya. She was more their like than he was. Still, his beloved was in no shape to make the trek to The Swordpoint, and had insisted he take the Golden Watch up on their invitation...
Verus' speech lifted his spirit. As he cast his gaze across the room, Rafaello realized that the old man was right- he was among fellow adventurers, all sorts, shapes, and sizes. There was a beauty in seeing such a wild and motley crew assembled in one place. The Eternal Rose would approve.
As Pipernortin finished his song, Rafaello raised his glass- first to the little gnome, then to Verus and Branda. "I'll drink to that," he said, and took a gulp. "I've heard more than a few stories of the Golden Watch. My wife and I- she is unable to attend tonight, I fear- are fans. Following in your footsteps, you might say. We've raided a dungeon or two in our time, driven off our fair share of bandits from besieged border towns... but compared to your lot, we're still novices." Another drink. "To what do we owe the honor of your presence tonight?"
One more "last ride," I hope, he thought, and hoped the tough-looking scarred half-orc woman wasn't glaring at him for more or less repeating what she had already said.
Kienyach examines the city in quiet contemplation. The last city he saw was when he was deployed, and he knew the differences would escape him for now. He keeps his hood drawn up, not meeting any eyes as he quickly makes his way to the meeting point.
Once inside he removes his hood, revealing his dark toned skin, light hair, and burned face. He ignores any looks he gets, greeting Verus and Branda with respect, giving them each a handshake. Hope I'm in that kind of shape when I'm that old.
The dark skinned half-elf folds his arms. They are crossed with scars and calluses and well muscled. At his belt is a single dagger but he wears well made armor and a black, flayed cloak. A few ropes are tied around his wrists, as if to brace them. "Call me Kien. I'm ex-military, honorable discharged three-hundred eighty-four days ago." His right ear, or what remains of it, twitches. It appears that half of it was bitten off by something.
"It's a pleasure, Kien," said the gnome, butting into the conversation and tipping his own glass at the wine-drinker. "And likewise Verus, Branda. The name's Pipernortin! These two fuzzballs are Drips and Pavlov. I apologize in advance if you find any slobber on your shoe. It's a nervous condition that Drips never quite got over."
Leaning over, he pat his two dogs on the head, sneaking a bit of a biscuit down and onto the floor. They snapped it up in with fervor.
"They're also perpetually hungry, but I think that goes for most dogs." He glanced over towards the tall, green-skinned woman and the stylish and handsome fellow that sat contrasting her. "Nice to meet you guys, too! I don't think I caught your names?"
"Ah, where are my manners?" Rafaello extends a hand toward Pipernortin, then Kien, and Laralai in turn. "Rafaello Lorenza. Priest of Shelyn. A pleasure to meet you all, as well as our hosts." He leans down to give the dogs a pat on the head, careful not to spill any wine. "Drips and Pavlov, eh? Handsome little devils."
Kienyach gives a nod to Pipernortin. Even for a gnome that's a funny name. He gives Rafaello his handshake, with his fierce grip and scarred hand. "Shelyn...she's the one about art right?" He gives a hint of a smile at the dogs, going to one knee and letting them sniff his hand before gently scratching them behind the ears.
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Stephen stands at the refreshment table, enjoying its bounty. He could relate to the dogs in that he was always hungry as well. He is a very tall, large muscled young human wearing high quality traveling clothes of green and brown leather. On his left hand he wears a gray stone ring that depicts a sea hawk in flight and a knife on his belt that depicts the same. Though a warrior that had seen many fights, his skin is more or less perfect and he carries himself as if he's never received serious injury.
He gestures at Kienyach with a half-eaten apple. "Stephen Rogerson, also ex-military. Sort of. I suppose I never technically enlisted. He gives a smile that doesn't touch his eyes. "I certainly never got paid! This food is wonderful, by the way. I've heard little of the Golden Watch besides their general reputation. What happened to Rhoma Bissel?"
Laralai glanced around at the others as they each gave there names, and examined Rafello's hand a moment before taking it. She had heard of several of them at one point or another, at least in stories. Apparently the giving of names was customary in situations such as these. She wasn't sure why, but customs were to be observed.
The Half-Orc tilted her head for a moment, considering the best way to phrase it. "I am Laralai, once of the Nujolrim Zemar Fos, the Scarred Heart Orcs. Now I am the servant of the Dawnflower, and a hunter of things." Mostly wild creatures, occasionally people. Few came to a Half-Orc Witch looking for a misplaced amulet or a lost purse.
Kienyach stands up from the dog, looking Rogerson up and down. Fights like me, but not as brutal. No long term injuries. He gives Rogerson a hearty handshake, recognizing his service. "Gotta say, not sure why you're wearing that ring. Probably break your hand if you punch someone."
He gives Laralai an odd glance. "The whatcha what orcs?"
"Nujolrim Zemar Fos. It translates to Common as Scarred Heart Clan." Laralai gestured to the half of her body covered in ritual scarification. "As the healer, the witch of the clan, I had more of the marks than any, but the tribe was well known for these markings. It was said that in the right to become chieftan, the warrior must carve the symbol of the Gods into his own heart." The Half-Orc considered. "Unlikely, I suppose, but my mother's magics are potent. I left some time ago, and there raiding grounds lie far from Taldor, so I am not surprised you do not know of them."
Late again, damn the luck!
For every once she thanked Desna, Galoria was thrice likely to curse her. Indeed, the half-elf with black hair and tanned skin was late to the gathering; rather, she arrived as the couple she now saw had started speaking, and she'd opted to remain out of the room until they finished. Inconvenient manners are big here. No stranger to Taldor, the wandering woman knew better than to get on the bad side of the gentry - particularly the elderly. Rich and crotchety...
She did enter after they finished though. Not of towering height or dwindling statue, she was not an intimidating figure. A smile she flashed to the others stood light in contrast to her well-traveled features; it was clear she was not one averse to the sun. Galoria's hair, uncombed and cascaded to partway down her back, perhaps the most obvious indicator other than her color she had not come from the upper district. Granted, if she'd been punctual enough to take care of that, she would have. But some desolate travelers in need of my 'services' were about. How could I resist?
She did not think of herself as a thief. No, more like a collector. As she looked about the abode, there were a fair number of things which would do well in the market. Yet the couple's age signified power, and power wealth.
And besides, there was the possibility for adventure!
"Do forgive my tardiness, good sirs and madams. I am Galoria of the Ginodesa line in Kyonin. Though I'm sure you've been in your time," Galoria inclines her head towards their hosts, "for those who haven't, it's a place where trees are dwarfed only by egos, and there is as much curiosity as a dwarf has fear of rocks."
She took a breath before continuing. "I heard some of your stories outside, but nothing prepared me for these little guys. I must agree with ... Rafaello? there, they are simply adorable. She gives them a good-natured scratch behind the ears and a brush down the side, turning her well-formed countenance towards their handler and the wine-sipper. [b]"Myself? I suppose you could say I'm an ex-diplomat. Wasn't really my kind of job; can't stand paper-peddling. I'm more at ease being a guide, myself." With the mention, it's easy to see the woman is in good shape. No Olympian, but her well-proportioned body gave a good impression to those impressionable.
While her figure could very well be easy on the eyes, her clothes were a touch baggy to make that confirmation; unlike her hair, her garments were clean and colorful, a bright chartreuse shirt hanging down, untucked with some rather unremarkable brown trousers. Comfortable, albeit well-worn boots completed her ensemble. Underneath the shirt was the hint of an armor of some sort, tight against her body.
Carrying a bow, backpack, and a few satchels, the woman was otherwise unremarkable. "It's good to meet with a group who would like to do something with themselves, see what the world has to offer. I'm looking forward to it." She stepped to the side of the room, her silence arriving as quickly as she did.
“To think we weren't much different then...am I right my dear?” remarked Verus as his hand found its way around his wife's waist. Less amiable than her companion, Branda spared a moment to stare at each of the adventurers, sizing each one up. “I suppose, .”
After the heroes' introduction, Verus continues after another pause. Worry hangs heavy in the air as he clears his throat.
“Our two friends have not made their appearance yet this year. We’ve learned that one, , is laid up in a place called , in nearby . The other one is more curious— is a half-elf, so he’s a bit more active and nimble than the rest of us. And he never really took to retirement, so this gathering started as his idea. It worries us that he hasn’t shown, especially as we’ve made our share of enemies over the years. We think it’s best we stay here, should arrive, but ask that you would check his home for us just in case—and bring word back of , as well.”
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Stephen grips Kienyachs' hand and gives another smile. "I hadn't planned on punching anyone tonight." This fellow looks like he has a few stories. He turns to Galoria. I never much cared for diplomats so that's probably for the best. I've always wanted to visit Kyonin, I hear the landscape is rather spectacular.
Stephen isn't sure he's ready to be part of a 'group' again but he never could say no to people asking for help. "Mother’s Care Home for Invalids'? Sounds like it could be the makings of a horror story. Is this the original reason you asked us here? How long have your freind's been tardy?"
I've always wanted to visit Kyonin, I hear the landscape is rather spectacular.[/b]
"Hmpf. Be my guest." Galoria shared the man's judgment of their hosts though. "Though I'm a traveler of the world, I can't say I frequent places like those. But I also can't say I won't. Who runs the place?"
I've always wanted to visit Kyonin, I hear the landscape is rather spectacular.
"I've also heard Kyonin is a place of beauty, but my travels haven't yet taken me that far. Plus, I've heard that the elves don't take kindly to visitors."
Pipernortin smiles, patting his friends on the head. They seemed to be enjoying the attention, if nothing else. Pavlov had practically rolled over onto his back. Some guard dog!
Without warning, Pip looks up at the two Golden Watch members with an uncharacteristically serious expression.
"Do you really think that old enemies may be out for revenge? Surely they'd have let that all go by now... I mean, you're all gray now! No offense, of course."
Rafaello again raises his glass to the others as they introduce themselves. If he is bothered by Laralai's hesitation to take his hand, he takes it in stride. "Laralai, Mr. Rogerson, Galoria- well met, all of you. And what's this about Kyonin? A place of beauty, you say?" Sounds like a good place for a vacation with milady, Rafaello thinks.
After Verus makes his request, Rafaello taps his chin, pondering something. "Ah. Stephen has a good point. The name of the place sends chills down my spine. Clearly, whoever named the place never knew my mother."
"As for Taergan, does he live alone? If, Shelyn forbid, he was attacked by some old enemies of yours, would he have been left alone against them?"
A truly dreadful thought.
"In any case, I would be more than happy to investigate this matter for you. Anyone opposed to checking up on a few tardy old friends?"
Laralai considered. Finding people was usually simple. Even when they tried to hide, a lot of people forgot that they left a scent. How many people could even track by scent? Laralai could. She smiled slightly at that. It was always a useful trick when looking for someone.
"My mother took care of the invalids of our tribe," Loralai added. It had not been an especially pleasant experience for them, however. "Do you have any portraits of there likeness, or someone who can draw them? It is easy to say 'I am he' but harder too look like them." Not impossible - there was always magic - but not easy, either.
”Do you really think that old enemies may be out for revenge? Surely they'd have let that all go by now... I mean, you're all gray now! No offense, of course."
Branda Tulles scoffed at Pipernortin's outburst. ”Enemies, hah! Only a few actually posed a threat!” Turning to face her husband, a wry smile formed on her face and there was a suggestion of former glory as they reminisced. Picking on the cue, Verus continued. “There was Lord Banecroft of the Silver Impendium who thought all the world's money and an army of Steel Golems could grant him power.” Branda emitted a small laugh, pantomiming the villian's mannerisms earning a beaming smile from her lover. ”The Twin Vipers, Argus the Vile, The Blackhand, heck, even a small group of mercenaries known as the Scarlet Sun.” chimed in Verus.
The couple had gone on for a short while before they realized their reminiscing had reached a tangent. Taking a quick sip, Verus continued the conversation. ”The point is kids, that you'll never know who's feet you've stepped on until they've become sore, create a grudge, and spend their entire life trying to ruin yours."
"As for Taergan, does he live alone? If, Shelyn forbid, he was attacked by some old enemies of yours, would he have been left alone against them?"
"Mother’s Care Home for Invalids'? Sounds like it could be the makings of a horror story. Is this the original reason you asked us here? How long have your freind's been tardy?"
Sensing that her husband had been pondering their comrade's fate, Branda took over, trying to address the curious nature of their audience.
”The annual meeting had been idea, being that he had taken residence here in , it was only natural that we'd come his home town. It's been this way for the past four years. “ Allowing a small break, she had motioned towards the refreshments table and poured a small snifter of brandy while eying Pipernortin's dogs suspiciously. ”To be frank, this isn't anything like to be late. I can only imagine that one of his latest alchemical pursuits has gone afoul or that an old enemy had intercepted him. The best bet is to see if is at his home, which lies just in the newer section of .” Enjoying a small sip from the finest Taldor had to offer, she paused and thought about her past with the .
Idly playing a few random notes upon his fiddle, Pipernortin considered Branda's words.
"So Taergan lives here in Cassomir? Seems like it'd be a snap to hop on over to his place and give her a knock. Maybe he just lost track of time. Gods know I've been there!"
He cast a quick glance at his traveling companions. Drips had fallen into a state of half-sleep, his namesake drool already pooling beneath his head and matting the fur around his muzzle. Pavlov, at least, stay awake and attentive - acting the part of a guard dog, even if he wasn't particularly good at it.
Do you have any portraits of there likeness, or someone who can draw them?
"Lai's right, too. It's hard to find anyone without an idea of what to look for!"
"I, for one, agree. Let's get a description of who to look for and then hop across town to Taergan's place. I'd hate for him to have to miss out on this lovely wine."
Although he says this in hopes of lightening the mood, it's not hard to detect a bit of trepidation in his voice.
"Perhaps another time." Kien says quietly to Rafaello.
Kien gives a grunt and a nod at the others words to get started. "We should get into it quickly, get our feet wet."
Galoria shoots Rafaello's glass a glance. "I'll have to dip into that when we return. But I'd be careful about assuming nothing happens to people in the middle of a city; Taldor isn't exactly known for its great honor and security." The ranger flashes Stephen a short smile before taking a few steps. "I'm ready to go once we have the details."
"Either is a starting point," Laralai replied with a shrug. "I am happy to accept this task, and work with you all for it. It is tiring to work alone." Well, sometimes. If there reputations were any indication, this group would work well. If they were slow or slacking then it would be easier without them.
The Half-Orc considered asking after a reward, but decided not to bother. She didn't really care. The boost to her reputation, aiding the Golden Watch, was reward enough. There was nothing she was especially interested in buying, except maybe a new crossbow - her old one had been destroyed - and only then if she could one with some interesting Enchantments.
Kien opens the door for the others. As Rogerson passes he gives a grin. "Maybe we'll cross arms one day."
"Do you have any portraits of there likeness, or someone who can draw them? It is easy to say 'I am he' but harder too look like them." Not impossible - there was always magic - but not easy, either.
At a quick nod, Verus had placed his drink down and rummaged through his pack while Branda engaged the adventurers. “ a half elf who's blessed by his pedigree, the little darling's gotta be entering his [oo]middle ages[/ooc] now and might not even show it. I suppose he still has his , though it's his attire that should give him away – a and such.” Allowing for a small sip of brandy, Branda then talks about Dern. ”As for , he's...fared the worse of us. He's a , and a good one! His talents had helped us in tight moments in the past. He's an ”
As Branda finished the description, Verus had produced quick renderings of Taergan Flinn the Alchemist, and Dern Fossimuth the Cleric of Sarenrae. With pride, he presented it to the group. ”Drawing's been a recent discovery of mine. Outside of ranch handling, Branda encouraged me to pick up a hobby. Not bad if I say so myself.” said Verus with a beaming smile.
Sensing that the heroes were about to depart, Branda exchanged a quick word with Verus. ”Should we?” to which Verus' hand embraced his wife's. Clearing his voice, the large warrior spoke.
”I know...our request may seem trifling, and you're probably wondering – If their friends are so important to find, why can't they do it themselves- well, our request is not without reward.” Piggy backing on her husband's statement, Branda follows suite. “We’ve talked about mentoring a few younger pioneers, maybe even handing down a few secrets we never quite explored. We’d be willing to lend you our company and more if you’d be good enough to check on our two friends. If they need help, we’d rather someone younger and up to a challenge discover them. Once we know they’re safe, we’ll look in on them ourselves. If you could, please check on and then ”
Galoria saunters over to look at the drawings. "Not bad if I am any judge - not that I am; my talent with drawing begins and ends with my ability to write my name." "But while your offer is generous, responsibility is something I'm glad to have less of now. Getting to go myself though? I'm good at finding my own rewards."
Pipernortin grins at Goloria's mention of responsibility. Wasn't exactly his favorite thing in the world either. It certainly had a hand in his preference for the road, rather than settling down anywhere.
"Excellent! To Taergan's it is, then?"
Hopping up from his chair, he prodded Drips with his foot until the slumbering dog slowly woke. He threw a foppish hat with an oversized feather from an unknown bird atop his head, and it seemed to subtly shift in size to match the man's smaller head. It was still at least two sizes too large for the gnome, and it tipped backwards with its brightly colored adornment.
With an exaggerated bow to their hosts and his hand still on his fiddle, he quickly ducked out the door while Kien was still holding it. Under his breath, he hummed the tune to Ode to the Golden Watchmen. The words would come to him eventually, he was sure of it.
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Stephen examines the drawings. "This is...nice. I'm used to 'He was an elf. I think it was a he. Might have been a dwarf.'" He passes the drawings on. "We'll find your friends, don't worry. I'm sure it's nothing." He always tried to remain positive, hard as that was anymore.
He exits the room with a half a roll piled high with multiple types of cheese. He returns Kienyach's grin. "Like I said, I hadn't planned on punching anyone today. I've got a room here, see you all in the commons when I've gathered my things?"
"Ah, Dern is a fellow holy man, eh?" Rafaello strokes his chin. "I certainly hope he's still in one piece..."
The prospect of being "taken under the wing" of the Golden Watch is certainly appealing. Secrets they'd never quite uncovered...? Sounds like one of Streya's so-called "Adventure Hooks" she used to use to loop me in on her crazy dungeon raids in the early days, he thinks. Rafaello grins at the prospect.
After looking over the drawings, Rafaello nods in appreciation. "Yes, this will do nicely. As you say, Taergan's is first on our list; shall we away to the Alchemist's?"
The journey to house was a short walk as Verus had doodled a pointing to where his companion had lived. On the way, locals gave mixed reactions at the sight of the companions. Few petitioned the aid of Shelyn, some children giggled at the delight of the Pipernortin's pups, even went as far as petting the pupsters' heads. Women blushed at Captain Andoran and Men cat called Golaria, while guards gave grim looks. However, few gave warding signs towards Laralai and Kien as they walked by.
- - - -
Located on the northeast side of , townhouse appears worthy of a lifelong adventurer. overlook manicured bushes, presenting a posh face to the front drive. .
The townhouse’s second floor is constructed of wood, and has many windows. The building’s of some kind. The house is as quiet as the neighborhood surrounding it.
- - - -
Pipernortin gladly strolls up to the door with his two canine companions. Stretching on his tiptoes, he grabbed the knocker and gave it a series of good slams.
"Anyone home?" he called, though he seriously doubted anyone would respond.
Pipernortin gladly strolls up to the door with his two canine companions. Stretching on his tiptoes, he grabbed the knocker and gave it a series of good slams.
"Anyone home?" he called, though he seriously doubted anyone would respond.
Much to the gnome's dismay, no one had answered the door after his eager knocks.
Disappointed by the lack of an answer, Pip takes a quick look around and tries to peek in one of the windows. Maybe Taergan was playing a professional game of hide-and-seek, and just didn't want to blow his cover.
Kienyach lets the talkier people lead, following from behind and glancing around the streets with a veiled expression.
Galoria listens for signs of movement.
Kienyach gives a small grunt at Rogerson, pointing to the right of the house and making a counterclockwise motion with his hand. Kienyach goes to the left, circling the house clockwise. He keeps an eye out for any signs of life as well as any possible entrances. He will check doors and windows if they are locked, quietly.
Rafaello stands back a little, surveying the scene. After a moment, he follows after Kien, keeping an eye peeled for any signs of life.
Clearly, Rafaello isn't the most observant adventurer on the planet. He grunts quietly in frustration as he attempts to find some sign of where Taergan might have gotten off to.
The Half-Orc had been bemused by the city dwellers apparent fear of her. She certainly wasn't pretty enough to receive Catcalls, but she knew she wasn't ugly either. It was the twisting scars and sensuous lines or tattooed script that upset, along with her race, she suspected. Still, fear was better than being ogled. She only had so many spells she could waste on people staring.
With the other listening at the door, Laralai hung back, moving instead towards the nearest window, hoping to listen from there for anything that might not be obvious from the door. It was a large house, an impressive place. Not what Laralai would choose - too many people, not enough walls - but still, it showed equally the Golden Watch's might.
While each of the heroes tried their luck towards rousing the alchemist from his home, not a single soul answered the door. It seemed as if their adventure in patience was about to begin.
Fortunately for them, Kien answered all their problems. The Main door remained unlocked.
Hearing the presumed movements upstairs, Galoria gave the others a harsh whisper. "Shh! I can hear someone moving about upstairs." She pushed her ear back to the door to investigate. "Since whoever it is didn't respond to Piper, I'm assuming they didn't want to be disturbed."
Unfortunately for the resident(s) inside, Galoria's task wasn't to respect their privacy. "I'm going in." She gestured for Kienyach to open the door, doing it herself if he was otherwise occupied.
Entering, she kept her wits about her, though no weapons in hand. Hopefully, he's just half-deaf and couldn't hear us. She looked for anything out of place though.
Watching Galoria open the door, Laralai followed. She briefy considered taking her axe down, but she didn't wish this to seem any more like a home invasion than it needed to be, and she was as almost as dangerous without the axe as she was with it - the joy of magical powers.
Instead, she focused on her natural gifts, breathing in deeply and getting the scent of the house - and the people - into her mind so she could try and work out whether the home owner was alone or not. It didn't automatically mean that whatever Galoria had heard was a danger but it might well be cause for alarm.
Which didn't mean she stopped her eyes and ears. They constantly flickered, looking for any item of noise out of place with the house.
Galoria took initiative, opened the main door, and entered the foyer of Taergan Flinn's townhouse. She was immediately greeted with a pair of expensive love seats joined by a quaint table which bore a decorative potted plant. The foyer is joined by 3 separate, but closed doors –
I forgot to include your cursory Detect Magic. ( my bad )
Unfortunately, you cannot discern any auras within the now opened foyer.
Kienyach comes in behind Galoria, going to the door on the left first and opening it.
Growing impatient, Kien shuffles past Galoria as she's searching the foyer, and bounds for the northernmost door. With a cursory test, the door is unlocked and opens up to a slightly larger chamber!
Confirming what he saw earlier, the chamber seems to serve as an entertainment room, as noted by an oval dining table residing in the northwestern corner which sat 6 folks that overlooked a trio of comfortable, padded chairs.
Probably the most notable thing about this room was the billiards table. Resting at an average man's waist height, the gilded insignia of the Golden Watch was inscribed within the table's rich green velvet – giving further note of the Alchemist's ties to his band of companions. A rack of expensive billiards sticks resided within an ornate cabinet nearby.
In the northeastern corner of the room stood another closed door.
Kienyach will open the rest of the doors in the first room.