The plush red carpet and oak furniture upholstered with velvet lend this room an air of comfort, but it’s also clearly a place of official business, with several layers of administrative papers, staff memos, maps, and charts covering the wide surface of the solid desk in the center. From her tall-backed chair behind her desk, Mayor Sandra Trinelli looks up, shaking herself out of a deep concentration. A subtle look of relief flashes across her face as she motions to the oversized chairs in front of her.
“Normally, I’d exchange more pleasantries with my guests, but I fear there is no time,” she says. “The business that brought you here is quite urgent—it may actually be a matter of life and death. “Let me explain. You may have heard that several young apprentices from various establishments in Saringallow have disappeared in the last couple of weeks. Every one of them has failed to show up to work, and nobody seems to know where they’ve gone.
“That’s not all. Rumors are spreading about sightings of enormous insects roaming about town. So far, the townspeople have chalked up such rumors to overactive imaginations, but I fear they might be real, and that they might have something to do with the missing apprentices. I have no proof that the situations are connected, but if folks get that notion into their heads, things are bound to spiral out of control.”
She shifts nervously, as if avoiding an uncomfortable implication, before continuing. “Please, I implore you to look into this matter quietly and thoroughly—find out where our apprentices have gone and discover the cause of our vermin problem. Don’t jump to conclusions until you have investigated every possible angle; we need to be absolutely sure that we know who or what is responsible before we take any necessary law enforcement actions.
“I suggest you start by interviewing the masters of every missing apprentice on this list I’ve compiled. I suspect that, collectively, they might shed some light on the youngsters’ whereabouts. That could in turn illuminate our vermin problem, but until we have more information, I caution you against suggesting to anyone that the two situations are connected. Beyond that, though, you have my full cooperation in this matter. If anyone gives you guff about your line of questioning, show them this letter.”
The mayor pushes a scrap of paper with several names scribbled on it across her desk, as well as a rolled-up, ribbon bound letter written on thick parchment.
“As far as an incentive,” the mayor says, “I’ve pooled together fifty gold pieces as a reward for each apprentice you manage to find and rescue, as well as an additional one hundred gold pieces if you can determine the cause of our vermin problem—and eliminate it. Do we have a deal?”
List of Missing Apprentices
Betrona Pindlion—apprentice of haberdasher Petrellano Pindlion
Gellion Vazarro—apprentice at Pricknettle’s Potions and Poultices
Morvinarr Albusin—apprentice at Witch’s End tavern
Noemi Tauralio—apprentice at Gunty’s Hearty Breads
Nolaria Wintren—apprentice of the temple and Father Ildris Ruvarra
Pavolus Laterna—apprentice of cobbler Dependable Drummady
My Fellow Esteemed Citizens,
The bearers of this letter have embarked on a matter of official
Saringallow business on my behalf. As such, it is my deepest hope that you will treat them judiciously and conscientiously, and that you will trust that any questions they ask are in the interest of furthering this urgent errand. Please answer their inquiries completely and to the best of your knowledge, as you would answer questions from me personally. Should you be aware of another citizen who may have the information they desire, I implore you to disclose those details, as well as anything else that might be of use. Should you aid my proxies in completing their task, rest assured that you will earn my profound gratitude, as well as any small favor from my office.
Your Humble Mayor,
Sandra Trinelli
Ibuki runs his hand through his glowing beard, the light pulsing with his breaths like the burning end of a cigar.
"Please excuse me, I have two questions before we agree." He holds up one finger on the other hand, his right hand still stroking his beard as he talks.
"Were these apprentices around the same age? If so, roughly what age were they?" A second finger raises, and at this point his right hand stops grooming and sets on his lap, conveniently near the two blade hilts sticking out of his sash.
"Assuming we run into citizens complicit with these events, either the disappearing apprentices or the nightly vermin, what would you wish done to them?" The young ifrit smiles at the mayor, his gold-hued eyes blazing.
Trinelli pauses as if unsure whether to continue, before taking
a resolute swig from the large mug of tea on her desk.
“As you likely know, the people of Saringallow are a superstitious lot, and with good reason—our community has been through its share of hardships, particularly when it comes to our vulnerable youth. If folks begin to assume that foul play is behind the apprentices’ disappearances, they might decide to mete out justice against an innocent person. Or if they come to believe the two situations are related, they may begin to suspect a diabolic or otherwise foul influence, and there would be panic in the streets."
A shadow seems to pass across her face.
"Under no circumstances can I allow that to happen.”
Ngozi closes his eyes for a second and nods at what Ibuki said. "Animals become monstrous because their spirits are sick. Perhaps one of your citizen's spirit is sick as well and has gone insane and evil." He opens his eyes and stares at the mayor. "Do you think that is what happened? Is that why you believe the insects and the disappearances are related?"
'What if they're dead? If we find someone dead we can try to talk to them, but she might not be happy,' Fumnanya whispers inside Ngozi's mind and the man makes a click with his mouth to indicate he agrees. "And what if we find your apprentices, but they have left the world of the living? Would there also be a reward for retrieving their earthly remains?"
"I suspect that these ominous vermin sightings and the disappearances of a half-dozen apprentices might be connected, and that they might be harbingers of something terrible. Of what, I cannot know. I certainly hope that it is not one of my own citizens that is responsible. Regardless every fiber of my being is screaming for a resolution."
Mayor Trinelli gestures to the mess of documents around her.
“And if I were to step away and handle this...mess personally, my absence would soon become obvious. On top of that, I’d have to involve a least a small contingent of the guard—they’re a talkative lot who would no doubt reveal the nature of my inquiries. You see how my hands are tied. I need help, preferably outside help. You seem like the perfect candidates.”
Unfortunately, the masters have only agreed to payment for living apprentices. Which makes sense considering that, from what I gather, their masters mostly think they’ve just momentarily run off."
She appears to be sincere. Exhausted, but sincere.
Ibuki shrugs. "With respect, superstition often has some seed of truth buried within. Still, you did not invite us here for philosophy. I do not assume that your townsmen are involved. But I also do not assume that they are not. While I respect the sensitive nature of such a situation, it does prompt me to ask what might seem to be a ... indelicate question." The samurai is actively tapping on the hilt of the longer of the two blades at his side, almost rhythmically.
"If someone actually is involved in this and we can prove it, do you want us to bring them in alive to face judgment or would you prefer us to... independently... meet out justice to him or her, and tell you afterwords behind closed doors?"
It is pretty clear based on his tone and body posturing what kind of justice Ibuki would be intending on dispensing.
Ngozi sighs. "Let us hope that is the case, mayor. The world of the spirits is silent at the moment, so there is hope."
He reads the letter with the apprentices' names and frowns. "What can you tell us about the apprentices and their masters?"
'Superstitious? I guess we'll still make money out of their families if they're dead. Which they probably are. Nibbled to death by giant ants. Or crickets.' Ngozi has to stop himself from chuckling.
Up until this point, the Halfling has been leaning against a nearby wall, scanning both the list of disappearances and the mayoral writ of investigation... It did seem that every person was an apprentice. The glint of a knife shone up from the halfling's feet: For Eisith had found a new job for the lonely weapon's sheath, using it to better guide his focus on the wall of text. "Hicc-"
Oof, that was a bit loud- Perhaps he had one to many Molthune Fireballs the other night. Ever sense he had taken up worship of the drunken god, hangovers had vanished from his life- But his body was still as susceptible to liquid vice as any other drunkard. Still, the situation at hand was a serious one, and it simply wouldn't be proper to act the drunk without at least contributing some of his not-quite-sober wisdom.
"Is it just me, or is every disappearance some poor apprentice?" Stating the obvious, Eisith continues speaking, fiddling with one of his dagger's sheathe as if it held some exciting revelation yet untold. The paperwork given to Eiseth is quickly shoved into his backpack, in a sloppy manner that will no doubt leave the gifts crumpled up in a mess. "Mrs Trinelli..? Ms Trine... Mayor Trinelli- Do these apprentices share the same demeanor and interests..? Surely there is a reason for this pattern... Hic- Be it a mundane pattern, or something of more sinister intent. In addition-"
The halfling takes a moment to re-unite knife and sheathe, having set the former on the floor while plumbing the latter for some indiscernible clue. "All these... Insects, rumored to be seen throughout the town... Any pattern on them? Like, color? Or perhaps, type of insect? Dealing with giant grasshoppers would be preferred to the more frightful candidates, such as wasps or... Spiders."
"Unfortunately, beyond what's on that list, I do not know much more of the apprentices themselves. An oversight that I hope to be able to rectify as soon as possible."
Trinelli maintains a professional smile as Eisith hiccups and burps his way through a series of questions.
"Betrona is the daughter of Petrellano Pindlion and They run Petrello’s Haberdashery. Gellion studies under Majara Pricknettle. She runs the town’s foremost apothecary. Morvinarr is the best cook Alcie Kruptin has had in a long time at the Witch’s End Tavern. You'll know Alice as soon as you see her. Noemi studies under Gunty Keronna though I'm not sure how anyone can stand that old grouch. Nolaria was adopted by Ildris Ruvarra and serves as his apprentice in the Erastil's temple. And Pavolus works with his mother, Drummady Laterna, at Dependable Drummady’s as a cobbler. Careful with Pindlion and Drummady, their divorce has been…rough on their children. I’m sure that each taking one as an apprentice did not help things either. "
”Regarding the vermin issue, I have not been informed of any particular pattern or recurrence of similar creatures. It appears to be random. ‘
Trinelli shuffles several loose papers as if looking for some lost document.
"As for.." she glances up at Ibuki, "given that I have enlisted the aid of strangers, I have resigned myself to certain possible conclusions. If - and that is a rather large if - whatever is behind this is one of my citizens, I would like to see them face the town's justice."
Trinelli pulls a small pouch from under a map. She opens the satchel and retrieves an herb filled, silk bag. A look of disappointment flashes across her face.
"Lavender," she mutters before readdressing the group.
"However, given that I am in dire straits, I shall trust your judgement."
Ibuki chooses not to comment on their new employer's habit of sniffing random herbs. "That is acceptable... I mostly was asking to ensure that we would not be causing undo suffering or scandal by such a... public action, if it was necessary. I would not wish to speak for all of my companions, but I accept your terms and will see what I can turn up. Is there anything else that you think that we should know?"
Ngozi raises an eyebrow both at the Mayor looking for the herbs and then her disappointment at being only lavender. "Are you in need of some sort of medicine for your exhaustion, Mayor Trinelli? I am skilled in the healing arts, blessed be the spirits of my ancestors, and can offer you some assistance."
He looks at Ibuki and nods. "We also accept your assignment under the conditions we discussed," he says with a bow which is done partly out of respect and partly out of a desire to look at the documents Trinelli has on her table.
"And if the medicine is a little bitter, I can mix you up a number of... Additives, blessed by Cayden himself."
Giving both the mayor and Ngozi a knowing wink, the halfling steps back. Truthfully, he didn't have anything remotely alcoholic on him, nor any material components for a quick casting of goodberry. But, it simply wouldn't stand to leave his offer unsaid- Especially when the person in question looked like they could use a pint. Or, In Eisith's opinion, possibly five pints in the mayors case.
Regardless of the mayors reaction, Eisith found the job offer to be acceptable- The gold earned... At least, hopefully earned, could provide the funding needed to sample some rarer brews and liquors.
Trinelli is visibly confused, ”Medicine?” She blinks and starts as she realizes to what is being referred, ”Oh, no, no, no.” The smiles and mayor drops the herb filled pouch into her now empty mug. ”Lavender is simply my least favorite tea. Too floral.”
The woman stands and retrieves a kettle from a cart behind her desk. As she pours steaming water into the empty mug she gives the adventurers a wave of her hand. A practiced wave that comes with years of always being behind in one’s work.
”For anymore information you will have to discover for yourselves, I’m afraid.”
"I'll need to purchase some more tea." She begins to make a note on a pad of paper.
"Very well. We will speak again soon, mayor Trinelli," says Ngozi, bowing and then taking the mayor's hand between his own. "May your spirit guide you in your mission."
"Come now, let us not disturb the mayor any further." Ngozi leaves the room whilst Fumnanya admonishes him. 'Brother, you risk too much. These northerners are ignorant and superstitious.'
Ibuki stands and bows to the mayor. "We shall look into it." With that, he strides with purpose out of the office and waits for his new companions to follow.
This shall be amusing at least. Perhaps there will be something that is worth writing in my book... but I doubt it. Still, a wanderer has to eat, and eating just what I can hunt myself can be... challenging... sometimes.
Throughout the conversation, the dark-furred ratfolk does not say a word, nor indeed even given any indication he is listening, instead opting to absentmindedly stroke the lean feline nestled to his side. But as the others turn to leave, Dhom opens one of his many pockets and produces a small pouch that smells strongly of dirt and freshly turned earth. He tosses it onto the desk as he turns to leave. "Add that, and the lavender'll take a harder edge. More sage-like. Just don't overuse it."
He taps his knee and Naiyla rushes to his side, purring affectionately as the group exits the building. "I didn't want to say anything in front of the Mayor, but there might be a chance this is a racket. Slave-smuggling, extortion, hells I wouldn't be surprised of drug-runners come through here. They love towns like this where they people like to blame weirder s%@! first..."
"Weird indeed. Though to the average villager, I'd reckon our entourage is weird enough. *hic* Still, we can't rule slavers out. Let's be sure to ask around if any strangers have been down to the local watering hole. I've never met a virtuous slaver in any case."
'And while we are there canvassing for info, I'll be sure to stock up on some spirits... Now that I think about it, I'm out of berries as well. Cayden guide me, does this town not have a gardener? None of these missing apprentices work for an Apothacary... No, wait...'
Having finished his piece, Eisith stares off into space, thinking deeply about something. Then, rummaging through his pack, he pulls his handout free, skimming over the names.
'That Gellion kid- Mayor said his master works at an Apothecary. Ah, I should have jotted more names down... Can't be helped.'
"You know... If things get dangerous, we might need some first aid. How's everyone on potions? We could swing by Pricknettles place first. Investigate the Gellion kid, and stock up on some supplies on the side. Of course... Anyone else have any suggestions?"
Ibuki just shrugs. "I can only hope that if it is slavers that they have a guard or two that are worthy opponents. Slavers themselves rarely are worth the ink required to write their names. Regardless, I care not where we start. I have neither potions nor money to purchase them, so unless this," he looks at the scroll sounding out the name non-verbally before attempting it again audibly, "Prick-net-tal," he looks to his companions for verification that he got close enough and continues, "is feeling generous, he is as useless to me as the haberdasher or the priest."
Though the foreigner ifrit's words are blunt and almost harsh, his tone is conversational enough that no malice can be taken from them.
"I thought the mayor herself was seeking some drugs herself, what with her disappointment with the lavender tea." Ngozi scratches his beard before continuing. "And I also think these disappearances and insects might have something to do with outside influences…there's always a spirit behind everything, oyinbos, never forget that."
When Eisith mentions healing supplies, he taps his fairly empty coin purse. "I am like Ibuki: poor and coinless. But I have something in the manner of healing for both the soul and the body," says the bekyar, thinking about the magic scroll inside his backpack and how he recently healed a small child who had been afflicted with rabies. "We need to start with someone, so we can go to the cunning woman of the village."
"Well, then let's save the apothecary for when we have more coin to spend. Should we... Flip a coin? Try to divine the future? Oh wait-"
Flipping his hand-out, he pins it to a nearest wooden structure with a dagger, caring not if he's stabbed someone's door or wall. The Blank facing of the paper stares back at Eiseth, and with all the names out of visible sight, he draws a second dagger and makes a wild stab.
Having given the paper a quick stab, the Halfling put's his knifes away to examine his defaced handout.
"Knife divination says... Erm... I can't read this name anymore. Who was the sixth apprentice? Pavie... Paver... The cobbler kid. Does anyone else have a better suggestion? If not, let's make haste. The longer we wait, the longer it is until we get paid."
Ngozi cannot help but give a patronising smile at Eisith's primitive attempt at divination. Whilst the others are still discussing, he and Fumnanya mutter an incantation before sneakily throwing his cowrie shells on the ground. To the bekyar's surprise, the spirits' message is clear: 'trustworthy feet will take you far.'
'I told you, brother, he can sometimes feel me even when I'm hidden inside you. He is close to the spirits.' Ngozi runs his tongue over his teeth and makes a sharp click with his lips whilst examining the halfling and collecting the shells. "Eisith's words carry unsuspecting wisdom. Let us go and visit the maker of shoes."
”His words also carry enough booze to drown a sailor,” Dhom adds as he mockingly waves a hand in front of his nose. ”But, I suppose his method is no better than any other. To the cobbler it is.”
He turns to Eisith as the hint of a smile peeks through his coarse fur. ”Can you walk straight? Or do you need Naiyla to guide your way?”
Ibuki merely nods his head, his hand resting near his swords as always.
"I see no problem with starting where your... 'spirits'... take us. I do see a problem with us staying on the streets for too long, as strange as we are. Let us go."
Leaving the Mayor’s office and Town Hall behind, the group heads into Saringallow in search of the Dependable Drummady’s. The most direct route takes the adventurer’s through town square. Oddly named as it is triangular in shape. The townspeople go about their lives as if nothing is amiss. However, an air of unease can still be felt among the people.
Two old folks playing dice near Merchant’s Square ruminate about the town’s younger generation, including the apprentices. “Youngsters today are so amiable and carefree with everyone. They aren’t cautious, like we were back in our day. If any of them have done anything other than run off of their own accord, it’s probably because they were too trusting of the wrong person.”
A group of peddlers scurrying through the streets knows many of the apprentices, if only in passing. “They seem like they’re all friends. In fact, it’s almost like they run in a pack. One or two of them probably convinced the others to all skip work at once, the lazy kids.”
A crowd of trade workers is closely acquainted with Majara Pricknettle, the town’s apothecary, from whom they often purchase home remedies and other supplies. “Most of the shop owners see their apprentices like workers-in-training. Majara, though, she’s different. She tries to hide it, but that apprentice boy of hers is more like a son to the gnome. I don’t think I’ve ever heard her raise her voice to him.”
As the party enters the cobbler’s shop, they find Drummady busy toiling away at a rough pair of work boots. The woman is hunched over a workbench. Whatever hair has freed itself from the ponytail lies plastered to her forehead in sweat. A familiar expression of determination dominates her features. The face of a woman that has long given up on girlish antics and devoted herself to her craft.
She glances up long enough to acknowledge the patrons and returns to her work.
”Welcome. New shoes to your left. Refurbished to your right. If you need work done, fill out the paperwork on the counter and drop ‘em in the bin.”
Ibuki keeps his ears open as they walk toward the cobblers, learning a few tidbits as they go. So they did know each other. Not surprising, really... still, it sounds like the idea of slavers or bandits tricking them into captivity might not be entirely out of the question.
Upon reaching the cobblers, he looks at the wares with disinterest. "My sandals are relatively easy to maintain, as the straw that keeps my feet within them can be replaced relatively painlessly. We are actually hear on another matter."
Ngozi tries to walk unnoticed, but the mix between his unnatural presence and peculiar smell of grave dirt add to the already uneasy atmosphere that hovers in the air, silencing any conversations he tries to eavesdrop. At a certain point he approaches an old man to ask for directions, but the villager grabs his hissing cat and leaves in a sudden hurry, muttering a half apology.
Once inside the cobbler's workshop, he breathes in the smell of old leather, dyes and varnish before greeting Drummady. "Kedu, my good lady. How market?" He smiles before continuing. "As my friend says, we would like to speak to you, if you can spare a minute."
"I'll be fine, I can walk straight!" The halfling tilts his head with an amused smile. "Though, thanks for the offer! I might take up your offer if we ever visit the local tavern. Who's a good kitty?" Turning to Naiyla, he offers the animal companion his hand, petting Naiyla if accepted. Regardless of the result, he follows the rest of the group, quieting down to listen to passing rumors and hints of secrets.
Interesting... A naive pack of friends... I remember when I had that luxury. Good times. But I hope these Aprenticy...Aprenticie? Kids haven't gotten themselves into to much trouble.
Arriving at the cobbler, he sticks behind the rest of the group, keeping one ear open as he picks up a new pair of shoes, the medium-sized footwear swallowing his hands and wrist. An odd luxury to be sure- Why not run around barefoot?
Drummady grunts and continues working on the boots.
”I don’t have time for chit chat,” she spares the group a hard glance, ”I have a business to run. Alone, apparently.”
The woman sighs and wipes a dingy cloth across her brow with one hand as she flips one of the boots over with the other.
”Strangers come into my shop and want to have a tea party and gossip makes perfect sense to a lazy bum I s’pose,” she mutters. Drummady mimes holding a teacup, ”’My word! Have you heard the latest news? Farmer Bricklebrack caught his wife with the neighbor!’ Like I have time for this nonsense. Some of us have work to do.”
Drummady is most certainly upset and stressed over her current familial issues. The divorce and now the stress of her children missing, compounded with running the shop alone, has left her on edge. Her angry muttering is a reflection of that.
Ibuki's gaze initially narrows, feelings of slight rising and showing in the color of his hair burning brighter than before... until he takes a breath and observes the body motions, the verbal strain, the tiredness... the concern. This woman is just lashing out. Rude, but understandable in the West I suppose.
Giving a loud cough to get the woman to turn around, he gives her a smile and a bow. "Perhaps you have the wrong impression from my words. I apologize." He bows formally and continues. "We are not here for tea or gossip. We are here to look into why you are having to do your work alone and whether the matter can be corrected." He pulls out the letter from the Mayor and offers it to her to read.
Ngozi puts his palms together in a pleading gesture. "Hear my colleague out, madam. We're here to find the young ones and the more you tell us the quicker you'll have your boy back here, making the nice, strong shoes you famous for."
'Bring back her boy's body, you mean,' says Fumnanya, chuckling.
The panther allows the halfling to touch her flank, but the second he tries to move his hand any father up she growls lowly as Dhom snickers. "Careful friend. She bites."
The ratfolk mentally recoils at the elder's sour chit-chat. Humans and their bickering! If this is how the elders speak of their progeny, I would not blame them for fleeing for kinder lands... Naiyla quickly tenses to her master's unexpressed reaction, but he settles her with a scratch of the chin. "No need girl, nothing for you to be troubled about..." If only the solution was so simple. But it never is...
Upon arriving at the store, Dhom waves a dismissive hand at the others. "You three go in. I've never been much for talking to strangers OR footware." He wriggles his bare paws in emphasis. "We'll check around the area. See if we can't find any sign of the mayor's 'vermin.'"
Eisith continues pondering why anyone would wear shoes as he examines the local selection. Sure, some of the shoes seemed to be impressive works of craftsmanship... But nothing impressed him enough to cause him to lose focus on the conversation held between his other party members, and the shopkeep herself.
...Though, this pair of shoes seemed to be made out of a rare hide- Was this reindeer? He wasn't much of an outside person himself- The local bar was his favored terrain after all. Such mundane thoughts distract him from the upset shoemaker, leaving him less perceptive than he thought he was. Perhaps he would buy these shoes of mysterious composition after they got paid, and give "shoes" a try.
The woman finally sets her work aside, ”Hmm, and what has you so interested in helping? Hmm?” Drummady stands, places both hands against her lower back, and stretches.
”Did Petrello put you up to this?” Drummady asks. She takes a step forward but pauses when she sees the letter. The cobbler reads it over and takes a deep breath. ”So, it wasn’t that lousy ex-husband of mine. Good.”
Drummady leans against the counter, ”You know, this place almost closed up years ago. It wasn’t until the divorce - and Petrollo couldn’t ruin my work - that business picked up enough to make this investment worth it. That louse had to gall to tell me how to run this place! The only thing he ever did was run it into the ground!” She laughs, ”Well, that and make hideous shoes. You know, even after the divorce, he still tries to use the kids against me. The kids made their choice: Pavolus is my apprentice, and Betrona is Petrello’s. But no, he whispers in their ears that I’m too permissive, that if they both follow his strict rules they will be successful. Petrollo has such a stick up his ass that he even tries to control who his children are friends with.”
Drummady stops to take a breath then stands up straight, ”Thanks. I needed to vent." She seems genuinely more relaxed after her tirade. "The kids are probably off having fun is all.”
She gestures toward the shoes the halfing was eyeing, "You have good taste. Those're elk hide with angora trim. Handcrafted. They're normally eight gold but I'm willing to let them go at seven."
On the far side of the building, several crates have been stacked on top of each other as if someone was using them to peep through a high window.
The bekyar chuckles. "Oh, them boys, Ma Drummady! I remember when I was younger and ran to the burial grounds to escape working on the family's business." He scratches his chin. "You're probably right, but we need to find them anyway, so excuse us for all the questions. Does your son have some usual haunts? Someone's house, somewhere outside the town?"
Ngozi listens to her reply and then asks: "This town is not that big, so I guess them's all friends, right? Is there anyone of their group they went and left behind?"
The ratfolk scratches his chin as he studies the assemblage of boxes. "Vermin" indeed. Unless that's local slang for young lovers...which wouldn't be all that surprising...
'Well... I can afford these- Wait, what am I saying? I need this gold for booze! I don't even wear shoes! ... They do feel nice though...'
"They certainly feel nice- Perhaps I might drop by later. I've no use for shoes, but a few of my friends in the Caydenite priesthood would enjoy a gift like this."
Not that Eisith was a formal priest in any sense- But, the religion of the drinking god was a loose one: Anyone willing to spread the good news and fresh spirits was a brother or sister in the faith, and the Halfling had spent many evenings helping the elders blessed with a direct mandate and divine authority with their more sacred services... Such as collecting tithes, the blessing of the kegs, and counseling those who's drinking vice's had taken a dark turn.
"Regardless, we are looking for the various apprentices. It is good to have a merry time, but they need to learn to tell others about plans."
Giving a small bow, the halfling defers to Ngozi: He had covered all the main points in any case.
Ibuki just listens to the shoemaker's rant without expression. Finally, at the end of it all, he gives the woman a hug .
"You have been through a lot. You have my sympathies on the troubles leading to this day, as well as any that come as a result."
He lets her out of the embrace and gives her a bow. Listening to Ngozi's questions, he adds one of his own before she can begin answering. "Also, when did you notice his absence from his duties?"
Drummady stands stock-still during the embrace, only relaxing her muscles the moments before teh samurai releases her. A coy smile plays across her lips, ”Careful, you might give a girl the wrong impression.”
She flattens a few non-existent wrinkles in her apron and clears her throat, ”It’s been a few days since the kids came by. I’m certain they’re just up to some tomfoolery. I can’t think of anyone they would’ve left behind. I mean, they’re all so close. Gellion has a way of bringing out the best in all of them and he hated to leave any of their group out.” Drummady perks up a bit, ”Gellion has done so much for these kids that my sweet boy, Pavolus, made him an exquisite pair of yellow boots! Just because! Of course, my ex said that it was a waste of time and materials. He doesn’t understand kindness, you see.”
Drummady glances around the workshop, ”I’m sorry, I don’t really know what else I can tell you, and I really need to get back to work.” The woman gives you all a quick wave of the hand, grabs her tools and takes her seat at her workbench.
"Ma Drummady, did the boy live with you? Could we take a look around his things? Perhaps there's something that can show us where they all ran off to?"
'Give her your caaaaard…' Ngozi perks up with Fumnanya's voice whispering on his mind.
"And before I forget, Ma, if you ever need an ear, I walk these lands offering my services to all sorts of people. The spirits share many secrets with me," Ngozi says whilst handing Drummady a card with his name on it followed by a long list of words: fortune-teller, medium, faith healer, dowser, speak with the dead and on and on. "I'll be close to the town cemetery once we've gone and foun your boys."
Dhom's eyebrow raises slowly. Interesting. I was expecting a bedroom window. Using his tail to balance, he leans to the side of the glass portal, pulls a piece of bone-white chalk from a pocket at his hip, and writes on the wall: Attention apprentice watcher. Apprentice Pavolus is missing. If you have any information, please report to Mayor Trinelli immediately. The ratfolk pauses, then adds: You are not in trouble, we simply need to find him.
Bellow him, Naiyla voices her concern at her master's precarious position with a sharp growl.
"Yes yes, I'm coming down silly girl..." Stowing the chalk, he clambers back down the box stack. Petting the large feline absentmindedly, he rounds the building to rejoin the others.
"It seems our apprentice had an admirer of some kind. I found evidence of someone peering at his through a back window. And in such a way that he would have seen him or her. Did the shopkeep mention him having a lover of some kind?"
Before heading outside, Eisith sets the boots back where he found them.
"A Lover? I don't think anything of that sort was mentioned..." The halfling feels a twinge of guilt- He probably could have paid more attention. Still, there was five more locals for him to work on his detective skills.
"And on that note, perhaps we should visit the Haberdashery next: Divorce has a way of skewing one's perspective, and I'd like to cross-reference what we heard from Drummady with her ex... Was it..."
Screw fresh berries for his spellcasting, or booze for his tummy- What he really needed was a bandolier so he could stop rummaging through his pack every five seconds for the note listing all the missing apprentices, and their respective masters.
"...Petrellano Pindlion. That's his name. I'm sure we might learn some sort of... Pattern between the two star crossed... erm, ex's. Exxes? Eks." He gives his fellow party members a confident nod, leaning against the shop and trying to soak up some sunlight.
Ibuki blushes lightly at the woman's attitude shift, but does not comment on it one way or another.
"We will do our best to find where they are. When we learn more we will let you know."
Giving her a bow again, he exits the shop.
"No, nothing like that... though she did seemed focused on her ex husband being the interfering sort. Perhaps it was his way of spying on him, making him work harder or some such. Or perhaps it was for his sister, so they could see each other. I suppose we will just have to ask him once we find him."
Shrugging, he sets off with the halfling and the others toward the haberdasher.
Drummady grunts and nods toward the counter, ”Go ahead and leave your card. If I think of anything else.” she glances up at the group as the leave, ”I’ll let you know.”
Thankfully, Petrello’s Haberdashery is only a few streets away. Upon entering, it is clear that Drummady was the organized one in the relationship. To put it bluntly, the shop is a mess. Scraps of material lay piled in corners and half-finished hats sit discarded on tables and chairs.
From the back of the shop a gruff, irritated voice calls out, ”Well, it’s about time you showed up, Bet-” the man stops short as he steps through the doorway separating the store from the workshop. A disingenuous smile appears on his face, ”Welcome to Petrollo’s! Home of the finest hats north of the Inner Sea. Care to browse our wares? Perhaps looking for something a bit more custom?” The portly man rests his hands on the counter and beams at the group.
"No, no lovers…except if this Gellion boy is more than a friend," says Ngozi with a shrug. "But anyway my bet's on Gellion just using that nice little spot to tell his friend that it's time to have some fun."
When Eisith mentions the ex-husband, the bekyar raises a finger in the air, shaking it vigorously. "Don't say anything about us having visited Ma Drummady. The man will get jealous and envious, Fumnanya tells me so and so it must be true."
Once they reach the place, Ngozi bows. "Kedu, my good sir. We are here because Ma Trinelli asked us to look for them missing boys and girls of this fine town." He puts his hand to his chest, playing with some of the coloured beads that dangle from his neck. "Can we vex you a bit with some questions? Here's a letter from the mayor, if you want to confirm we're really here to help."
Petrello’s smile melts like a wax figure in the summer sun. He barely gives the note any regard before turning his back on the investigators.
“Bah! It’s that apothecary boy’s fault. He’s a bad influence, that one!”
The man kicks, what is probably meant to be a top hat, out of his way and stomps into the back room. ”If you aren’t buying anything,” Petrello calls, ”then get out!”
Ibuki looks around the shop as they enter, attempting to see if anything strikes him as odd or out of place.
The mess, however, renders any such search pointless. Everything is out of place. How can this man work like this?
"Well, I was thinking of getting a straw hat made while we asked you questions." The samurai sniffs the air in a judgemental way. "But if you are not interested in helping us to help you find your apprentice than it is clear to me that you need no help from her. Or business from me."
The ifrit takes out his solitary gold piece and flips it, catching it mid air.
'Brother Fumnanya, lend him a hand, will you?' Ngozi says to his phantom brother, who whispers a few clicks in agreement. He leaves his beads alone and pats Ibuki's shoulder, leaving a comfortably chilly sensation on the ifrit's skin once he draws his hand away.
"Perhaps you are right, Ibuki…and to think this man showed much promise…the poor kids…oh, well, perhaps it's best we leave, sorry to vex you," the bekyar says shaking his head, already turning his back on Petrello.
The plethora of hats and mess speaks to the Halfling, and in a similar vein as his trip to the shoe store, he is immediately distracted by the wares. His focus isn't kept for long as the shopkeep leaves the storefront in a huff.
Just as Drummady started out, Pindlion also seemed upset- Shouting out about it being the apothecary boys fault. 'Interesting... So his first reaction isn't to blame his ex? Well, hopefully it's just drama, but...'
"Um... Sir? If it isn't much trouble, perhaps you can tell us about this apothecary boy? When you say he is a bad influence, do you mean... Sneaking out for midnight trysts kind of a bad influence, or something more sinister... Such as pickpocketing and general nuisance making?"
Eisith is no good in Diplomacy: Something about his questionable soberness tended to give people the wrong situation. Instead, Eisith tries looking around the mess of a store: Perhaps some interesting clue or pattern would stand out.
As Naiyla is momentarily mesmerized by Ngozi's beads, Dhom rolls his eyes at the brusque shopkeep. Well, that solves the mystery of their divorce... "I have a strong impression this one will not give his secrets willingly...we'll meet you back out front." Pulling the panther away from her colorful fascination, the hunter cases the building for anything useful. I wonder if there is another spy-station around back?