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“Well...that was...different. Sure, I’ll help, we better see what happens...”
Kyras will assist Rizzork with alchemy for a +2 on all of his rolls. Although he holds himself with higher regard, he aknowleges the ratfolks expertise in this matter.
“Mmmm yes, you’re right. They use Aconite Root to derive their poisons, I’ve had much experience with this stuff. We would have been better slitting the captains throat, his chances were slim to none. These guys are pros. We need to get to the bottom of this...”
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Qillion searches the desk, since the safe doesn't appear to need two people crowding in.
"Hey, check this out. The area around the Dripping Wall Distillery is particularly well-mapped. Looks like there are some hastily-written notes in the margins '...found another young holligan in the sewers today. Third one this week! Always near the distillery...' '...requesting extra security for distillery proprietor...never forgive myself if anything happened to Ramya. - Timinec.' Maybe we better go talk to this Ramya."
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Several files are stored here, as well as a feather and a roll of parchment. Several sections have been circled:
- ...took your Pathfinder Timinic to a safe house on the edge of town - Brandur Clovesh
- ...told Timinec to only open the door for other Pathfinders, or “Guardians of the Open Road”...
- ...wanted killer called Cladara, city-wide investigation, very unusual here...
- ...Pemak, apothecary, Poisoner’s Guild?
Interesting. Looks like we have some leads. We should talk to Ramya about Timinic and this safe house. Can we approach the Poisoner's guild as well?
Having gathered what information they can, the Pathfinders set out from Dryblade House. The sleet is still falling heavily, but Brandur’s footprints can still be seen in the mud next to the Lodge before quickly becoming lost in the morning traffic’s residue. Across the street, the pumpkin plant immediately starts telling Breezy that it has seen three more dwarves go by, two of them running.
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Rizzok looks over the scroll... "Hmm... magic, languages. Not comprehending, imparting. I think it is a magic scroll for sharing languages known."
"Yes, I think we might want to check out the poisoner's guild. Their pursuits are more academic though their customers are often assassins. In fact, anyone can hire an assassin in training once a year. Though, did you know they cannot target an enlisted person. I guess it keeps up their military forces that way. But I will warn you. If we ask the wrong questions or follow up on the wrong leads, we could become targets ourselves. Don't upset the applecart as you people say."
"I think I know where to find Brandur's, so we could start there and better arm ourselves with knowledge before we start getting into guild business."
Rizzok is able to guide the group to a nearby district of Daggermark. After a few answers from the locals, the Pathfinders find themselves outside a small house. The door is unlocked.
Coals smolder in the fireplace of this cozy wooden cottage. The main room is set for company, with two half-empty mugs of ale on the table. A waxy aroma reminiscent of burning vinegar fills the cottage, emanating from the corpse of a dwarf sprawled near the hearth with a small bottle labeled “In Case of Poison” clutched in his stiff hand and pale yellow spongy foam spilling out from his nose and mouth. A crumpled military uniform lies on the floor near a cabinet in the corner, a well-worn piece of parchment barely visible in the pocket.
After inspecting the corpse, Feelo tells the rest of the Pathfinders that this dwarf, who looks identical to the one you saw leaving Dryblade House earlier this morning, looks to have been dead for at least a day.
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The Pathfinders set out for the safehouse. They were ready for the muddy roads, but not for how long it would take to get there - even waterproof clothes were starting to get soaked. After about half an hour of slogging, they arrive at a nondescript house on the outskirts of town.
This cabin features sturdy wooden walls, with thick glass in its two small windows. A covered porch looks out over the banks of the Dagger River to the west, though steady sleet obscures the view. The door is locked shut.
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Kyras checks the bombs on his belt as he realises he probably shouldn't use these in such tight spaces. He instead, keeps one hand swiftly on his longspear.
He takes his free hand and brings his index finger to his lips. "Shhhhh," as he nods in the direction of the lock on the door. He makes a jesture with his hands indicating for someoe to try to pick the door.
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Feelo holds up a hand, gesturing for Quillian to wait a moment. "The note said he was only to let Pathfinders in; we're Pathfinders! Let's knock first." The halfling steps up to the door, and takes a brief moment to ensure that he's not about to step on some unseen pressure plate or somesuch.
He knocks lightly. "Timinic? We are here to help! Explore, Report, Cooperate; we're friends."
There is no reply at first, but Feelo’s gentle touch seems to do the trick as the Pathfinders hear several latches and locks being undone. Finally, the door opens and a very nervous gnome sticks his head around the doorframe.
”That's not the password, but... Pathfinders? Here? Get inside quick, before someone sees me!” he hisses before pulling his head back out of sight, leaving the door slightly ajar.
Peering around the corner and past Feelo and Qillian, Rizzok can see that the safehouse is lit only by the light coming through several small windows. The entryway is empty and looks like it hasn't been used much recently.
Once the last Pathfinder is inside, Timinic mutters something and the door closes behind them before locking itself again. After that is done, the gnome lets out an audible sigh of relief, then turns to his guests. ”Clovesh said Bosk was contacting help to get me out of here alive - I suppose that’s you lot?” He starts collecting his few belongings off the bed and stuffing them inside a backpack that smells faintly of sewage, even though it looks as though it has been cleaned repeatedly.
At Feelo's question, Timinic snorts. "Hell if I know. I haven't been outside in..." he starts counting on his fingers, then throws his hands up in frustration, "...I don't know how many days." He suddenly turns and looks at Feelo. "Wait, what do you mean going awry?"
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"Wait, so you are here and are alive, that is all good. But where would we be taking you that is better than a safehouse?"
Qillion isn't the brightest torch, but he isn't afraid to speak up when things don't make sense.
"I think we should check this place to make sure it is secure, and then decide if we want to lay in wait for the inevitable attack, or do we want to go try to find the source of that poison and track down who's pulling the strings here?"
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"That isn't a bad idea, Mr Jones. I think before we go anywhere however, we need to ask this man some questions." Kyras finishes checking the windows, making sure they were not followed.
The dark elf turns and glares a cold stare at the man. "If you are responsible for what happened to the venture captain, not even these guys will be able to hold me back. Be honest, sir, why are you in such trouble, and why would someone want the captain dead?"
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"And, hey, do you know a Ramyla, or Pemak? Pemak runs the apothecary, I guess. Maybe Ramyla runs the distillery? Both are on the same list as you, Clovesh, and Bosk. Clovesh and Bosk are both dead!" He throws his hands up in confusion.
"Bosk and Clovesh were trying to get you out of town... why? What were you doing in the sewers? What did you discover down there? It really must have upset somebody!"
At Bennett's questions, Timinic sighs and sits down on the bed, resting his head on his hands. ”I’ve been trying the map the Daggermark sewer system, seeing if there’s any unexplored sections we might find historical records or artifacts from,” he explains. ”After getting lost a few times, I decided it would be best to start at one place and work from there. Easiest access was at the Dripping Wall Distillery - which was where I met Ramyla.” He looks like he’s doing his best to ignore the sudden flush in his cheeks. ”Everything was going smoothly, even if I kept running into strange people skulking down there. When I mentioned that to Bosk, he started reading my reports more thoroughly, as if he was hoping to find something hidden in them.” Timinic snorts derisively. ”If he ever did, he didn’t mention it to me. Although I did hear him arguing with Clovesh one day about some broken oath. Next day, they told me my life was in danger and brought me here with some supplies and told me to stay out of sight and not let anyone in without the passphrase. I’ve lost track of how many days ago that was - you're the first people I've let in.”
Timinic's eyes widen incredulously at Qillian's question. "Why, to Absalom!" he says finally.
Kyras doesn't see any suspicious behavior outside, but his tone seems to scare the gnome, who shrinks back from the half-elf. "Who- what happened to Bosk? What do you mean, poison? What's going on!? Are you people actually here to kill me!?" he cries frantically. He seems to be getting hysterical.
As Feelo speaks, Timinic's hysterics stop abruptly. "Bosk... dead?" he asks softly. "Clovesh... dead? I swear, when this is all done I am done with the Society. No way anybody can convince me to stay after this." He joins Feelo in throwing his hands up in resignation.
"Pemak? The apothecary? Always seemed suspicious how she seems to know everything going on around town," Timinic says after several seconds of silence. "Don't know why anyone would want her dead though."
"And Ramyla. She and I... are close," he admits. "If anything were to happen to her..." His voice trails off before suddenly coming back as he says with urgency, "Please, you have to make sure she's alright!"
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Feelo tries to process all that he's heard. He pulls out a trail ration from his back, and begins nibbling on it. "This is all stressing me out a bit."
"To he honest," he turns to Timinic and addresses the gnome directly, "I'm not sure that you're safe here anymore." He looks up at the others as he continues to feed his grumbling belly. "I don't think that we understood the gravity of this when we left Bosk's office. We didn't take any precautions against being followed. Desna's luck, maybe we weren't noticed, but I think we have to act as if the assassin know's that we're here right now."
He looks back at Timinic. "We still need to visit Pezak's Apothecary and the Distillery both. The Apothecary is on the way, so we'd normally stop there first. But I understand your urgency, and think we should try to get to Ramyla if we can at all prevent this happening to her, too. These tunnels... is there access nearby? Could you get us underground so that we can move more freely?" He looks around the small safe house, studying the dark corners.
"Is there any chance there's an entrance here?"
Feelo does not see anything that looks like a tunnel, and Timinic answers, "Gods, no tunnels here. I might already be dead if someone could get in through the floor."
Timinic answers Bennett, "She's probably at the distillery, like normal. As for whether it's safe here..." He shrugs. "I'm not dead yet."
"Are you sure?" Timinic asks hesitantly. "Well, okay, as long as we check on Ramyla first!" He finishes packing up his things and heads out the door with the rest of the Pathfinders towards the Dripping Wall Distillery. "And yes, I can handle myself - at least in a fair fight!" he says to Bennett with a touch of indignation.
After about 40 minutes of muddy streets, the party arrives at the distillery. Pipes line the rafters of this squat building, channeling runoff from Daggermark’s curtain wall into large collection barrels. Simple wooden chairs and tables fill the main room, separated from the barrels by a bar stocked with whiskey. A staircase leads down to a lower chamber with a floor of packed earth. The establishment is sparsely populated at this hour - a half-elf sits reading next to a window, trying to ignore the dwarf drunkedly pounding his empty tankard on the bar. ”Dammit Ramyla, where’sh my shpiritsh!” he yells before putting his head down on the table and beginning to sob loudly. The proprietor is nowhere to be seen.
The half-elf scowls at the leshy over her glasses. "Rah-mee-lah," she says slowly, "is not here, or else Urfus over there," she gestures to the sobbing dwarf, "would be making it even harder for me to enjoy my reading. If I may?" She does not wait for permission before returning to her studies.
Bennett does not see anything noteworthy inside, nor does anyone else come inside to take shelter from the sleet. Urfus's bawling continues unabated.
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Kyras slides over across the bar and takes an empty keg and fills it up with some ale. He leaves a silver piece on the counter, and slides it over to the sobbing dwarf.
He slowly wanders over, and taps his index finger on the mug. "Where is Ramyla. Take this as a sign of my good nature, althought I am getting very tired of chasing down empty leads across this god forsaken city. Help a friend out, won't you?" - he slowly pushes the mug of ale closer to the dwarfs nose.