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Cloudia may be naive in many respects, but she has learned to always question the boasts of a merchant. She does not need to know the difference between an Azata feather and a gull feather to protect her hard won cash.
Still, she does love a good story even if it is mostly, ore even all, made up and she wonders what stories these things have. Half distractedly she asks,
"Ummm. Yes. About that robbery. Could you tell us what it is you saw?"
The merchant begins to puff up in anger at the implication that his "azata" feather is anything less than genuine, but is charmed by the one-two punch of Uldar and Cloudia. "Now, friends," he says, dropping his voice low, "let's not scare away any potential customers with... unnecessary rudeness. You clearly have discerning eyes, I would never trouble such keen observers of the divine with these mere baubles. But if it's information you seek..." He sweeps you further into his modest stall, though whether for privacy or to keep you from saying anything where potential customers might here is up for interpretation.
Once you've all stepped inside and close to him, he resumes, indignant.“I wouldn't call what happened to me a robbery, I would call it a swindle! An occasional acquaintance brought me a relic, same as always, and I tried to sell it right up until the Greycloaks barged in claiming I was selling stolen goods! I had no reason to expect it was stolen. I’m already out good coin - truly, a victim myself!”
"Well, if it WERE greycloaks then it would not be robbery, but I have a suspicion they may have been fakes. In which case you were swindled indeed, but not by the person you thought. Do you remember anything odd about the Greycloaks?"
"Nothing odd except them coming into my shop, madam! They seemed quite upset about the issue of fake relics. Their leader was some tall dark woman - never seen her before."
"What kind of relic? Can you tell us more about this occasional acquaintance"
"Well, I'd been told it was a shard of Iomedae's lance - who knows what that little guttersneak Barnel actually gave me. He's a man who knows where to get things, if you understand what I mean - often unwashed, scraggly black hair. You can't miss him, unless you deliberately avoid those who look like they sleep on the streets."
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Cloudia wrinkes her nose with distaste. "Unfortunately we are all too familiar with his type, and worse. Well, thank you for your time. Don't worry, we'll get to the bottom of this."
After leaving the shop she starts a discussion with the other pathfinders.
"Well, since the Greycloak's actually did actually recover the shard, I think these were the real thing and this Barnel is in cohorts with the actual thieves. We need to track him down."
Funny that Cloudia mentions that - because as you stand talking about it, Jarid suddenly yells "Wait! That's him!" You look in the direction he's pointing, and there is a scraggly-haired little weasel of a man, looking startled by Jarid's yell about 60 feet away from you. He bolts into a nearby bathhouse before you can react.
Lukian, Cloudia
Barnel
Uldar, Mao
EFFECT
Range long (400 ft. + 40 ft./level)
Barnel freezes as a wall springs into existence in front of him, causing him to panic.
Cloudia slips past the guard as he looks for the thief she yells about, and then scampers over the vine-covered wall, winding up at the gates of the Chelish Embassy, it's cathedral-like facade looming over her and Barnel.
Uldar, Mao, Lukian, Cloudia
Barnel
Round 2:
Barnel manages to figure out that the wall he sees is not really there, and dashes directly into the illusory wall, jimmying open a lock and slipping through.
Round 3:
Uldar whips out the anytool and makes a quick ladder, pegs sticking out of it, that he scrambles up. Mao takes a more expedient route and simply runs clean up the wall, landing with a "thump" in the alley with Cloudia and Uldar.
Uldar, Mao, Lukian, Cloudia
Barnel
"Pardon, my wards went that way, urgent asylum business," the gnome cheekily says to try to get past the guard. The guard gets out of the way with a shocked look on his face.
Barnel, meanwhile, seems to be getting into trouble. From the other side of the embassy wall, you hear gasps, shouts, and smashing glassware. "Someone catch that man!" yells a haughty voice.
Uldar handily helps Cloudia slip over the wall, and is joined by Lukian who lands adeptly next to the half-orc after climbing over the wall, grumbling as he does so. Mao again runs up the wall as effortlessly as less disciplined mortals use stairs.
Cloudia and Mao arrive at a scene of utter chaos. The embassy was apparently hosting a tea party, and Barnel was not a gracious guest. From what you can guess, he flipped a table when he landed, or maybe landed on it and upset it - there's broken glasses everywhere, and guests running about the place in a tizzy, a few sprawled onto the ground, though you can't tell if it's from their "friends" or Barnel shoving them. A woman in a massive mountain of a flouncy gown shrieks for the guards. You spot Barnel at the edge of the party, where he locks eye contact for a moment before running into the pond separating the main entrance from this garden.
Uldar will try and climb the wall
and fail
Cloudia calmly explains the situation to the hostess, who calms down enough to...
...graciously accept the "Ma'am, terribly important, I have to - " from Mao before he races off through the crowd, literally leaping over a pair of footmen trying to help up a visibly agitated viscount of somewhere-or-another. Rather than worry about the pond at all, Mao thinks quick and leaps onto the wall effortlessly, dismounting into a passing hay cart and effectively blocking off Barnel's perceived method of escape - assuming he can get out of the hay in time.
Seeing Uldar failing to make it over the wall, Lukian runs forward to help - but instead just serves to break the half-orc's fall.
Barnel emerges from the pond dripping wet and runs into the crowded market - but veers in Mao's direction, not realizing that the monk is lying in wait while he lies in hay.
Lukian, seeing that there's no helping Uldar this time, just tries to make it over himself.
Mao looks about to see where the man is heading - seems to be aiming for the rooftops, so Mao scrambles back onto the cart and gives a yell that startles the pack horses, causing them to panic and run. He leaps off the cart onto a roof overlooking the market.
Barnel tries to wiggle his way through the crowded market - but upon seeing Mao staring him down, begins yelling for people to get out of his way.
The little fence shoves the wrong person in his attempt to escape, and a small mob forms around the man, making him unable to escape. Yelling begins, and Barnel is trapped in an angry circle of strangers.
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Cloudia eventually emerges from the pond, soaking wet, her disposition NOT improved by the little swim. When she finally catches up with the little fence and Mao, her glare is a bit off-putting. Not for long though. The fact that Barnel is equally soaked, mollifies her. Besides, once she gets over her irritation, she realizes that the swim actually felt good.
"Well, then. Now that we have all that nonsense out of the way, perhaps you would be willing to answer a few questions, starting with who put you up to all this."
”Look, I don’t know nothin’” the man begins to say to Cloudia before Uldar shows up all in a hurry. He looks from the half-orc to the murderous-looking gnome, and then when Mao leaps down from the building top, he visibly deflates.
”Lissen, this is about the whole thing with Jarid, right? I’m just a fixer - I was supposed to find some folks with lots of cash looking for somethin’ big and expensive-like, immediate interest only. I don’t even know what she’s doin’ sellin’ relics, for someone who hates clerics and gods so much - must be from some god-hatin’ place.”
He sighs loudly. ”Look, I don’t know how much I can actually help youse all. I ain’t never seen her face, and I don’t know exactly where her hideout is - I just know that the goods is kept up on the north side of the Acendant Court, in a warehouse near the Pitview Pub. And I think the lady is a Graycloak - if you send me to jail, it’s even odds I got a line across me throat before mornin’.”
"Jarrid? The guy I saw you talking to before I tried to give you the slip? He's about as far from a lawman as you can get. No, the woman whose been giving me directions and the relics to sell - Always shows up wrapped up in that gray cloak, standard issue like all the guards wear." He also gives you directions to a place on the north side of the Ascendant Court - "no idea which warehouse she keeps her goods in, though, could be any one of a dozen around there." Even if you go to the pub yourself, you see he's right - there's a few blocks of warehouses, and it would take a team of highly trained Pathfinders weeks to search the area - and in that time your mysterious villainess might get wind and run.
Left with Barnel's dead end leads to chew on, but no actionable information, your individual reveries are interrupted by either a very dirty human child or a very very grubby halfling man in an oversized coat and a cap. ”Message for you lot - Torch business!” he chimes, handing the letter over to Uldar and hanging around before he realizes no one is going to tip him, at which point he slinks off muttering some particularly creative orcish curses under his breath. The note reads:
Gozreh’s Grotto. Post-haste.
and includes directions to a local bathhouse.
When you arrive there, a burly half-orc guard stands near the entrance. Inside, Grandmaster Torch reclines in one of the numerous small pools that make up the sauna, and steam fills the air. An attendant is rubbing a salve on Torch’s burn-ravaged face, but quickly gets up and leaves when Grandmaster Torch gives a silent gesture.
“I have news from the Decemvirate and perhaps some assistance for you, but first I would like to hear what your progress is.”
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"So, we've investigated the three leads you provided."
"The first lead Rialla tried to save the victim. A woman, a greycloak or just dressed as one arrived and the victim died under suspicious circumstances. We believe the greycloaked woman might have actually killed him."
"The second lead Friar Horace witnessed the attack. The muggers were wearing grey cloaks, but he doubted they were guards and they were not very proficient. They were however aided by a sniper. The muggers discarded their grey cloaks and we found this arrow with goop on in on the position of the sniper."
"Then we were attacked by two men and a dog, but they were no match for our amazing skills or luck. They told us they didn't like us investigating and they did seem to use poison, so their attack seems related."
"The third witness Jarid had an item he procured seized by Greycloaks. Actual greycloaks as far as we could determine. It seems he acquired the item from a unthrustworthy person named Barnel, which we managed to track down. He told us he got the item from a greycloaked woman. He also told us she keeps her loot in a warehouse near the Pitview Pub, but as there are so many warehouses there it's like a needle in a haystack. Also Mao saw a cloaked figure fleeing, so that might have been the sniper."
Uldar tries to make the party seem as proficient as possible, also including heroic actions like Mao's amazing chase abilities and Lukian's formidable crossbowshot and Cloudia's climbing.
"Quite industrious of you all! And rewarding too, I suspect - you've uncovered some critical information there." Torch seems suitably impressed with your exploits and information. "Thankfully, we've had some breakthroughs in the research department as well."
“Kreighton has discovered another relic, and he claims this
could be the most important one yet. Supposedly, this keg was
scavenged from the ashes of the original Cayden’s Hall and is
the last keg Cayden Cailean drank from before he took the Test
of the Starstone. After selling it to our relic dealer, the tavern
keeper threw a huge celebration and bragged openly about
how the Pathfinders were funding her retirement. By now, we
can assume that we have piqued the interest of every would-be
relic thief in Absalom."
“While I am loathe to put you in harm’s way, this does
present a unique opportunity. Should you accept responsibility
for moving the keg from the pick-up location to the Grand
Lodge, you will undoubtedly be the target of the relic thief
we’re looking for. If you properly prepare yourselves, you
might be able to reverse the ambush and catch the bandit
before he makes off with the relic, or follow the thief afterward
to find out where he’s been hiding. Either way, you’ll want to
make sure not to kill the suspect, since whoever is behind this
won’t be much use to you dead. Tracking down the culprit’s
main site of operations is the most important thing right
now—after that, you should search for as much incriminating
evidence as possible."
“It’s a huge gamble — which somehow seems appropriate
when a relic of Cayden Cailean is on the line. This isn’t the sort
of thing I would normally ask a Pathfinder to do, but we’ve
already lost one courier and another was badly injured. I’d like
this ordeal to finally be over with, and with your help, we can
make that happen.”
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Cloudia rests her chin on one hand and absent mindedly taps her cheek, her brow furrowed in thought.
"Excellent plan. I'd rather catch them than chase them though. Some of us prefer not to chase folks through gods knows what."
By now her clothing has stopped dripping, but it is obvious by the say it clings to her that it is still wet.
"How far must we transport the item? And have you given any thought to placing a personal item in the keg and using it to track where it ends up? They have probably got counter magic to deal with that, but I'm sure that they won't have time to protect the stolen goods until they reach their warehouse."
Torch smiles knowingly at Cloudia. ”Clever girl, you are - don’t worry, the Grandmaster comes prepared.” He snaps his fingers and the half-orc at the door steps in, hands him a scroll case, and steps out. ”It’s a scroll of locate object - just in case you misplace anything important,” he says with a wink before turning to Uldar with a shrug. ”Sniper-proofing yourself? I'd suggest either platemail, or keeping your head on a swivel. Maybe a scroll of protection from arrows?
"Now, you’re to pick up the keg at some dockside bar called “The Port-O’-Call” in one hour, and you're supposed to bring it through the Ascendant Court to the buyer, only a few miles - don’t be late.” He dismisses you with a wave of his hand.
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Your journey to The Port-O’-Call is uneventful, and you arrive in good time to make your pick-up. The barkeep, a jovial woman more resemblant of a fishwife than a bartender, brings you through the alehouse to the kitchen, where the keg awaits you. Cayden’s Last Keg is 3 feet in diameter and 4 feet tall, and weighs 75 pounds. ”The bloke who bought this got a cart too - thoughtful ol’ bugger. It’s out back, got a donkey hitched to it,” the bartender says helpfully. The keg has old char marks on it as if it had been in a fire, and it still sloshes with the remnants of hops and ale.
[ooc]Getting a scroll of obscuring mist might be good for Lukian and Cloudia.[ooc]
Cloudia is able to swap her mule in for the donkey, with no complications beyond a long baleful stare from the donkey.
As you travel with the cart through the heart of the Ascendant Court, you push your way through various crowds, some gathered around aspirants trying to gain a following, and some just huddled around performers and merchants and other people of the street.
Coming around one corner, you run into a small crowd of intoxicated revelers singing about the improbable accomplishments of a famed Taldan prostitute - a little surprising, given the early point in the afternoon. Spying the keg, a voice from the crowd shouts “Ale!” - and the whole crowd of drunkards rush forward, tankards raised like weapons, to claim their share.
"Aw, he's just a busker!" someone calls from the back, but he's quickly shushed as Uldar begins his tale - and does a killer job, at that. The crowd of drunks begins to follow after the wagon as Uldar spins his tale.
Meanwhile, up ahead, Cloudia and her mule are stopped by a Greycloak. "Sorry, ma'am," the grizzled man says gruffly. "Parade happening." He gestures over his shoulder to a crowd in front of him - some troupe of jugglers in ornate Tien masks are weaving their way through the street. The crowd of drunks are joined by parade revelers, who press in close around the wagon, leaving you with little space to move.