"Let's get those letters, sir. Might tell us something. For all we know, that mysterious boy was in trouble and the kids all ran off together to help him. Wanting to be heroes."
Please let that be what it is...
"And if it's nothing and your girl is upset at you for reading her mail, well, I think you're doing the right thing as a parent. And sometimes a kid being mad at you is the price you pay for that."
Brannart follows along. His eyes adjust to the dark quite well... better than they used to. I never did find out who saved me in the Worldwound, but this is one of the changes from the care they provided. Fey, I think, but I don't know who... or why.
Mugget, that’s where I’ll find some clues, Nymbleth thought, forgetting for the time being about shopping or voyages. He strides away with his tail swaying side to side in cadence with his feet.
Yraelzin feels the hard jab of someone’s finger on his shoulder. He turns around to see a half-elf questioning him! And before he can respond, a swordsman appears and implies forthcoming violence! The masked man draws himself up to his full height. ”Stay your flapping tongues and blades, and be grateful that this Priest of the Third Step deigns to forgive the importunity of touching his person. Witness now the generosity of the Living God.”
Yraelzin can see that several bystanders are watching this interaction. He climbs onto the back of a cart and addresses the entire crowd in a booming voice. ”Citizens of Almas! Misfortune has come amongst you! Tragedy has struck! This man’s children have gone missing!” Yraelzin points dramatically at the man who is busy explaining himself to the others. Stop yammering, I’m trying to preach here! ”Yet, through his instruments, the Living God has come to your aid. Hail Razmir! The other gods walk in the heavens above or lurk in the hells below, but Razmir the Living God treads the same ground as you! And in times of need, Razmir heeds the call to justice. His agent, myself, shall aid this poor, wretched, pathetic man when no others would! And when I return with these children, remember who to praise—the Living God, from whom all worthwhile things flow.” The masked man steps down from the wagon and scans the crowd.
Not half bad! Now where did that guy run off to? There he is! Why are the half-elf and swordsman following him? Well, I better hop to it. Wouldn’t do to embarrass the church on my first mission!
A pleasant looking halfling with deep blue hair and brown eyes, and wearing a long concealing cloak, speeds along the docks. He's all pleasant smiles and nodding at the locals as he glides by.
Pander like you want their vote for city council.... if that's how that works here. Irrelevant for now.
Out of the corner of his eye he sees that he has at long last come upon the Peregrine. However, rather than stopping at it or even acknowledging it he speeds past. He does make a show of glancing at ship signposts, pulling out a crumpled up piece of paper and then moving on as if he hasn't found his match.
Hmm, a burly orc watching the gang-plank. I wonder if he's the captain. Better check with the locals first...
The barefoot halfling darts about fifty yards away from the docks and into the city crowd to schmooze for some basic info about the Peregrine's crew.
He tries eye contact with several citizens and, taking his pick at the most friendly response, offers a slightly embarrassed look and approaches to fish for information.
Say... I was wondering if you could tell me a bit about the Peregrine. Do you recall the name of the captain? I'm all set up to join an expedition on that ship but lost the note with the name. I don't want to embarrass myself on the first day.
When Yraelzin draws himself up to his full height, he sees that the half-elven woman still has a couple of inches on him. He also notices she has almost shoulder length dark brown hair with a reddish cast to it. Her eyes are brown and her face is freckled.
Her exposed forearms are freckled as well. She has something of a tan, and along with the freckles it suggests a fair amount of time in the sun, but skin too light to adjust to it all that well.
Aside from being on the tall side, she's slender and dressed sort of like a dandified sailor. She wears a baggy white linen shirt open a couple of buttons shy of what the majority of women would consider prudent. Not that it makes much difference in this case, the woman has the look of a beanpole. The shirt is tucked into trousers colored the kind of blue typically worn in the Andoran navy, but her boots are nice and unlike anything a ship's crewman would wear.
The most eye-catching part of her outfit is the pendant she wears on a silver necklace. The pendent is also of silver, worked into the shape of a rose sprouting from cobblestones. Anywhere the silver framing is wide or long enough for it, red semi-precious stones are set into it. The effect is to redden the rose and bloody the street.
When the masked man starts talking, Fenna doesn't get any answers to her questions. Instead he spouts non sequiturs in which he seems to refer to himself as both a priest and a god. Right... His accent seems foreign, but maybe he's just crazy.
By the time the man is up on the cart and speaking, Fenna has started losing interest. She can figure out enough to sense he's also maybe interested in finding the children. But since the children's father is walking away she does too.
A cultist or a lunatic, maybe both. Well, he won't hard to find if need be. I'll just have to ask for THE ONLY guy wearing a metal mask and freaking people out. He'll leave a trail of 'Oh! That guy! Sure! What a weirdo!' comments that will be a snap to follow.
It'll probably turn out he's snatched the children with some kind of plan to fake-rescue them so people will think he's a god. What a freak.
As she tags along behind the father, man, and other half-elven woman, Fenna calls to them "Hi, I'm Fenna. I'm helping too!"
Malakar enjoys a fine seafood meal with Raearg and the Peregrine crew. Dusk starts settling in and he makes his way to the ideal space on the deck where he can look out over the sea and see Razor’s fin break the water’s surface periodically. The Druid is so in touch with his companion that he knows when and where the fin will appear.
As dusk turns to night …
With the light dimming, Fenna is glad to have her elven sight to help her look about.
As she saunters along with the other two, who seem rather introverted to Fenna, she tries to break the ice by inquiring about who they might be.
"So how did you two come to be looking into this?"
Nah, he's a crazy guy in a mask.
With the half-elven woman's question, Fenna sees her chance to prove her worth.
Then they'll talk to me...
"Well we do know where they were supposed to be already, 'last seen' will just be a matter of asking around based on that. The boys left their house and were supposed to be going to work at the docks. For them, we start at the house and follow their route to the docks, asking if anyone who was there at the time saw them. We might be able to figure out where they left their regular route, and then we go from there. The girl was supposed to be at home, so again we start there and see if anyone saw her leave, and in what direction. The letters might also tell us something."
"Tracking people in a city is mostly about asking the right people what they've seen or heard. I guess you could say I'm fairly experienced at urban tracking."
"Hi Fenna. Nice to meet you. Name's Brannart Teskerwill."
He extends his hand.
"As to how I came to be here, Bosun Raearg told me that some of his dockhands went missing. And then that father was asking if anybody had seen his kids. Seems like they are the dockhands, plus a sister that also went missing. We are going to the house to look at letters to the sister from a boy she was corresponding with. Best chance at a clue, I think.
And as to why I'm helping, well, I'm a local, and I know a lot of these families. But even if I didn't, you know, if someone needs help, you help them if you can. It's just what you do."
The warrior wears two holy symbols around his neck - the tankard of Cayden Cailean and a worn iron hammer of Torag. He has a weathered look, though appears to be in good health. His hair is clean though unkempt, with streaks of grey.
"What was up with that freak in the mask? You don't think he has anything to do with this, do you? But the way he was talking to people... seemed to think they would obey him... I don't think he knows much of Andoran."
Just as Brannart finishes saying that, the man in the iron mask jogs up to them. He's obviously panting heavily from the exertion, and sweat stains are visible in the armpits of his robes. "I, Yraelzin, Priest of the Third Step, have decided to form a rescue party. I need all good citizens of this land to aid me. We start forthwith!" The masked man leans over to catch his breath some more. At least the grey robes are better than those awful black robes I used to have to wear! Hm, I wonder if there's a spell to turn back the heat?
Brannart gives the 'priest' a glance.
"Did we have an election and I missed it?"
Then he turns his back on Yraelzin and says to the father. "Don't worry sir, we'll find your kids."
Fenna is still shaking hands with the big guy, who she finds kinda hot, in a rough but weary way that's really working for him, when the masked guy shows up again.
This time, the state of the man says more to her than the specifics of his words.
Not very fit, and he seems to really, really, want to get in on this search.
Despite the amazing presumption of his words, Fenna interprets the whole picture as the man begging them to let him come along. When this is added to her prior takes on the masked man, her perspective shifts somewhat. While he could still be a crazy cultist serial killer, he might also possibly be some sort of crazy cultist wannabe vigilante with delusions of grandeur and very poor people skills. Another possibility is he's some sort of lordling from some place like maybe Ustalav? From the stories I've heard they get up to some very strange stuff there...
Either way, he's asking for something now, so Fenna feels she can take greater liberties with him.
Leaning in with a skeptical squint to stare more closely at the mask, she asks him "so what's up with the mask?"
|
I don't care who "leads" the party, formally or not. That not the point. The most important thing is to find out the children, and the less we spend time arguing between ourselves the better. Let's keep the greater good in mind, despite our differences.
she coughs
Sorry, didn't mind to sound preachy, just using common sense. Every good will is welcome.
"What I meant, Sho, is that this masked nut comes up and barks orders like he expects people to obey. He isn't in charge here.
I'm not in charge either. I will do what I can to help. I won't give orders. This is Andoran. We are free people."
It is obvious that Brannart takes offense at Yraelzin trying to place himself in charge. While he had brushed it off with a snarky comment at first, Sho forced him to explain himself in more explicit terms.
Nymbleth makes good time through Almas and to Mugget just in time to witness a masked man raised up on a cart proselytizing to a few onlookers regarding a ‘living god’ and missing children. Most of the city folk walk away, but the Tiefling notices a small few nodding their heads in hope and agreement.
Before the masked man can gain a following, he departs his platform and runs around a corner in an attempt to catch up to a female in sailor’s garb and an armored man with a sword at his hip.
"Well if nobody's in charge then listen to me." Fenna says this completely without irony.
"Let's get to the house and take a look at those letters. If they don't tell us anything useful, we try to track down the twins first. They'll have passed plenty of storefronts on the way to the docks. Businesses will be closing soon and, since they're always around in he same place everyday, they're more likely to know who's who or pick up on anything odd."
"Neighbors around the house are home in the evenings too so we can ask around about the girl later, in the evening."
Fenna trots off after the father without waiting for any replies.
The tiefling watches wide eyed, a mask, why didn’t I think of that. It would help conceal my features.” He shakes his head as he follows the mask man, dismissing the idea, probably to hot inside that kettle.”
Nymbleth finds the party engrossed in conversation and loudly clears his throat, Harrumph. Catching their attention he sheepishly continues, Excuse me, I couldn’t help but overhear .... umm ... the masked man ... mention something about missing children. He shuffles from foot to foot, holding his tail tightly, as he continues, ”I too have been looking for some missing children. Their names are Egwenene, Perrin and Matrum and they live hereabouts. Perhaps we could join our efforts.”
He releases his grip on his tail and adds confidently, ”I have calculated that out chances of success increase threefold by combining our abilities.”
Vexas makes his past the Peregrine and does not believe that half-orc giving orders or any of the crew noticed his surreptitious behavior. Weaving through the crowds as only a Halfling could, he finds a seafood stand run by an older human with tanned skin and deep wrinkles. Judging by his looks, he appears to be an old sea-dog with ties to the ships coming and going. Vexas believes he would be an excellent target to his questions while he also shops for some dinner.
”Aye, the Peregrine. A good and fast ship when her sails are bloated with Gozreh’s power. His right hand slowly moves to his neck and index finger and thumb gently rub a leaf pendant riding on a silver necklace. The Captain there be none other than Captain Jacob Markosi. He’s a fair man who is good to his ship and the crew never have a complaint or a bad word to say. His First Mate is Naerath.” A smile comes across his face when he says her name. ”A real beauty that one. Very nice on the eyes. Believe she has some elf-blood in her. If I was a younger man,” he smiles again only wider this time to show several gaps in his teeth, ”she would have slapped me in the face and turned me down several times.” he laughs. ”Then there is good old Raearg, the Bosun. Comes off as gruff as most of his lineage does, but he is good to his crew, loves the sea and much smarter than most that share his blood-line. The Peregrine’s Navigator is one to give a wide berth. Tyra Swain is her name. They say she can talk to the waves.” He wiggles his body as if a chill just went up his spine. The he continues with a finger point as his hand lowers from the pendant, ”You also have the Quartermaster whom you might find to your liking being of your ilk. Alda Brady, they call her Bean-Counter cause she also handles the money and the supplies. Especially the beans, “ he chuckles with a grin at his own joke, ”she knows these seas well and expertly works the sails. So can I interest you in this fine flounder just caught a few hours ago?”
Following the man looking for his children, he leads you to one of the nicer homes in Mugget. It is a bit larger than most of the shanties surrounding it and the foundation appears to be in much better condition. Fresh paint has protected the outside from wood rot and it has a raised brick foundation offering some flood protection.
Adding to the man’s fears, the home is still empty. There is a large main room which includes a cold hearth, a well-built dinner table surrounded by kitchen counter space. There is some furniture on the other side of the room and shelves holding knick-knacks and games and puzzles. A beautiful longbow hangs above the hearth’s mantle held by pitons built into the stone chimney. On one side of the hearth is a wood pile and on the other side is a barrel holding exquisitely built arrows. There is also a work bench station consisting of tools, more wood, and a pile of feathers in one corner of the room. The far side of the home offers four doors. The man opens the door on the far right and leads you into a small bedroom decorated with pinks and yellows. There are dolls on a shelf collecting dust and the bed is lined with lace. The man opens a mirror-adorned vanity and holds a stack of letters in his hands. He hands them to you and states, ”These are the letters from the boy”
Looking at the pile, the bottom letters are short and sweet mentioning adoration and consisting of little poems comparing her to flowers and a pieces of well-known art. ’Shelyn herself could not deny your beauty even if she was surrounded in works by the great painter Galiander’ These letters are all signed in a fluid script Andar
The top-most letter is of a different nature and style. After a quick mention of adoration, it requests her to sneak out after her father and brothers have gone to bed.
My sweet Egwenene. How I miss gazing into soulful eyes. I cannot wait until we can be together forever although I know your father will never allow you to betroth a soldier. I have a plan for our escape so we can elope. Yes, elope, because I do want to marry you and make you my wife and be your husband to the end of our days.
After your father and brothers go to bed, sneak out and meet me in the warehouse district. Look for a small warehouse colored in black and white on Jibe street. It is the only one of that color. I would meet you closer, but I must wait with our ride out of the city and make preparations.
See you soon, my love, and we will start our new lives together.
Love always and forever farther than the Inner Sea flows,
Andar
The father sits on his daughter’s bed and weeps. Looking up at you through tear-filled eyes, "Can you find her and me' boys? Please help me, he sobs.”
"She slipped out, and the boys followed her. I will go to that warehouse, with whoever wants to go with me."
Vexas listens intently, following along with the old mans narrative and indulging his remarks and opinions along the way. He nods knowingly and approvingly at the reference to Gozreh's power to encourage the folksy narrative.
Yes, Jacob! That was the name. And Raearg as well. Those are who I was to report to! Many thanks!
When he mentions the first mate, Naerath, Vexas cocks one eyebrow in an intrigued expression. Oh? I wonder if the good captain Jacob keeps her around to keep spirits up then. I suppose I'll see for myself soon enough. Is he... protective of her in any way?
Ah, my first possible hook to file away for later...
Ms. Swain talks to the waves? What does that mean? Is she some sort of mystical sea-caller, a druid, or something else entirely? I could give her a wide berth or I could come to rely on her skills, however different they may seem. I imagine Jacob finds her valuable on the voyages, as he does keep her around after all. Why do you suppose that is?
Vexas looks at the old man expectantly, using this one challenge to his set mind to balance their interaction and avoid seeming suspiciously agreeable.
Can't be too obvious...
Finally an amused half-smirk crosses the halfling's face at the explanation of the ship's Quartermaster. My ilk? And what exactly is that? Halfling? Traveler? Intuitive business-man?
After giving him a moment to respond Vexas returns to his warm, introductory smile to offer a thanks of sort for the time given.
What I really am, at heart, is a discerning critic of flounder. In fact my good man, if you don't mind I'll have three to return the favor with some good business, for your humoring me and helping out! How much will that be?
Perhaps, Nymbleth thought as he tried to see how this letter fit into the bigger puzzle. ”Let’s not jump to conclusions, this letter doesn’t explain the rash of missing children. However, I do agree that our best chance of finding out the truth is heading to this warehouse.”
The tiefling slowly strokes his pointed chin, tail twitching, I will continue working with you on the mystery. Let us proceed.”
Night falls by the time you reach the warehouse mentioned in the letters. There is a large cargo door in the middle of the building with a smaller entrance door to its right. Both appear to be locked and no one appears to be around.
The fishmonger looks at Vexas, perplexed at first, by all his questions. I’m sure the crew do have ‘high’ spirits when the First Mate walks past, if you know what I mean … hehehe,” he lets out a chortle as he simultaneously moves both eyebrows up and down several times, ”but I am sure they keep it to themselves and lower their spirits in private. I understand her knife can be sharp and, well, no body wants to lose their spirits, do they?” he asks while cocking his head and raising his eyebrows again.
”As for Peregrine’s Navigator, she is a mystery to most. I do know that the Captain values her very much and the ship has never lost its way while having her on board.”
”Oh and Bean-Counter is a Halfling, just like you. I understand she has a sweet tooth and loves chocolate. The crew believes she has a secret cache somewhere in her cabin.”
He then pulls out three large, fresh flounder. “A halfling’s appetite for sure.” he adds with a chuckle, ”Will these do. How would you like them prepared? Or would you prefer them wrapped and uncooked to take with you?”
Nymbleth marches toward the warehouse with his new found companions his cat like eyes adjusting to the dwindling sunlight. Arriving at the warehouse he cautiously looks around while his tail rises to scratch at his ear. ”It appears that this place is empty.” He looks to the others with a raised eyebrow and suppressing a mischievous grin, ”shall we knock?”
Fenna reads through the letters looking for personalized touches. Generic compliments alluding to painters such are all well and good, but those kind of letters are interchangeable. What beyond her name at the top makes the letter about her.
She looks for mentions of personal habits or quirks, turns of phase or ways of speaking, like and dislikes, the kinds of things that true affection, rather than just flattery, notices.
The question driving her line of inquiry is just how true are Andar's intentions?
Some insight to the question's answer might help when they get to the warehouse.
-------------------------------------------------
When the place turns out to be locked and apparently deserted, Fenna takes a look around the building for alternative entrances while the new tiefling (What a wacky day!) knocks on he door.
Vexas strokes his chin while the old fishmonger runs down more details about the crew.
Never loses its way you say... she must read the sea like a more conventional navigator follows the stars. Very interesting...
At the end he snaps back to attention, addressing the question of fish preparation.
Wrapped and uncooked, thank you very much! Could you point me to a place where I could procure some chocolate?
With a steady stream of her vice, I can easily be taken care of on the voyage with ample supplies. I wonder what else a fellow halfling is hungry for..
Fenna searches the warehouse for alternative entrances but comes up empty.
She doesn't say anything while in the father's presence, but later at the warehouse she brings it up.
"Something bugged me about those letters. They were smooth talking I suppose, but shallow on knowledge of the person they were for, impersonal really. I think we have a conman on our hands. Don't know what he's up to, (aside from what almost every man is up to, but mixed company at the moment) but my gut tells me he's leading the girl on."
The fishmonger squints his eyes in thought, ”I would try Puleh’s Exotic Candies and Delights over on Coral Street. Gonna try gettin’ in good with ‘Bean-Counter eh’,” he lets out a snicker. ”Well, if you go to Puleh’s make sure you take gold. Prices are high around here for a sweet-tooth. Probably closed now,” he stops to consider the sky and the waxing moon sitting over the horizon.”Should be getting home me’self. Day’s getting late. Might wanna try finding shelter on your ship before crew’s done for the night.”
Good advice. Have a good evening, friend!
The halfling sets out towards Coral St.
Vexas asks around for directions to Coral Street. He is told that it is in the East Hill District and runs along the Andoshen River. Many large mansions are common in this section of town. He realizes as he makes his way that many shops are already closed for the evening. The only places of business that seem to be open are inns and taverns. It is quite possible that the gang-plank is already pulled up or could be at any moment.
Vexas finds the nearest Inn to find a reasonable room for the night, and perhaps takes in the stories in the common room late into the evening.
Vexas finds an upscale Inn named Erastil’s Harvest with a hunting lodge themed feel. The main area is a large room with a bar, lounge area, and gaming area complete with billiards, darts, cards, and dice games. Many game animals adorn the walls of the main room from several types of antlered deer to smaller mammals like fishers and otters. Several hearths are spread out in columns down the middle of the room stretching through the ceiling with open ends on both sides.
It appears that successful merchants frequent this establishment and they are talking about all of the business they are generating with Peregrine arriving in port. This venture has the Peregrine stocking up on countless supplies for the journey there and back. Several times glasses are raised to toast the expedition and how much revenue is being generated by the merchants. Although separate entities, the Peregrine and the Bountiful Venture Company are discussed as if they were one in the same. At least with this crowd, nothing but good things and tidings are being said about the expedition and the crew of the Peregrine
When Vexas inquires about lodging, he is told that their basic room is five silver a night.
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Yraelzin listens as the swordsman says something about an “election”, but the masked man doesn’t respond. Elections? Is that one of those weird things where the rabble appoint one of themselves as leader? Such a bizarre system. I guess this is Andoran though. Exotic foreign customs are so amusing! I can’t wait to tell the others back in Razmiran.
When the pretty half-elf asks about his mask, Yraelzin replies. ”An excellent question! All those who serve in positions of authority as the Hands of Razmir, the Living God, wear these symbols of office. They remind all who see that the Living God is among them, and that his glory far exceeds even that of the individual mortals whose visages are occluded.”
There also seems to be another half-elf in the small party that’s formed, and Yraelzin listens as the trio converse. He tries to pick up names but it’s hard as they move quickly through the streets. And now a fiend-spawned is talking to us! My little speech really did go over well to attract such a following so quickly!
The priest follows along silently as the group travel to the old man’s house, examine the letters, and then walk to a warehouse. Excellent! As Prime Mentrex says, a good overseer knows that underlings and acolytes are best supervised by setting goals and expecting results. ‘The best captain is the one who stands at the helm, confident his crew can adjust the sails. A captain who must constantly shout orders needs a new crew that can do their jobs properly.’ I’m really getting good at leadership!
At the warehouse, the man in the iron mask nods, and then adjusts his mask so the eye-slits line up properly with his face. ”Praise be to Razmir, our quarry will soon be found. In the name of the Living God, let the doors to this redoubt of love’s shame be breached. Soon, the girl will be reunited with her father.” He motions vaguely at the door.
”An excellent question! All those who serve in positions of authority as the Hands of Razmir, the Living God, wear these symbols of office. They remind all who see that the Living God is among them, and that his glory far exceeds even that of the individual mortals whose visages are occluded.”
Fenna stares, then rolls her eyes and turns back to Brannart and Sho.
"Well if nobody's in charge then listen to me..."
Vexas chuckles to himself as he wanders through the Harvest and takes in the theme.
Hehe, nothing like the affluent playing at rugged lifestyles with their hunting trophies. Clearly I'll need to pander to vanity in this place...
Vexas approaches one of the table of merchants and feigns naivety, asking Say there gentlemen, what's so special about this ship? Surely the ports of this fine city see continuous traffic that provide you with ample business.
The table of merchants look over from their drinks since their sitting position puts them mostly at eye level now to Vexas. A dark bearded merchant wearing a fine dark red coat with black lining considers the Halfling's question for a moment then projects, ”Well you see, most ships come in to port with goods of their own from their home berth. They travel the Inner Sea going from port to port with a full hull, but since part of their hull has their own goods, they can only accept enough goods to fill their hull when they are here. In essence, Peregrine is giving us 100% business since it just arrived with an empty hull and deck and is leaving weighted, full, and low in the water. Does this answer your inquiry my good Halfling?”
Indeed, so this ship is no mere merchant vessel making a routine stop. Has the Bountiful Venture Company blessed your businesses in this manner before? This must be what they do time and again...
Perhaps I can get a sense of how successful they are in their expeditions, and how often they lose hired hands to dangers of unknown frontiers.
”An excellent question! All those who serve in positions of authority as the Hands of Razmir, the Living God, wear these symbols of office. They remind all who see that the Living God is among them, and that his glory far exceeds even that of the individual mortals whose visages are occluded.”
Fenna stares, then rolls her eyes and turns back to Brannart and Sho.
"Well if nobody's in charge then listen to me..."
Brannart smirks. At least this one is more polite, not masked, and easy on the eyes. And that holy symbol, I know I saw it in the Crusades on people I trusted.
"Offer an idea, dear lady, and I may follow."
He has more to say to the masked man at another time, but the elf ranger has a point. This is not the time and place for such discussions.
Knocking on the door gains no response. This warehouse and the entire area seems completely deserted.
Brannart examines the ground for tracks, particularly those with stride length and foot size indicating youths.
"Anyone see tracks of the kids?"
With the waxing moon just above the horizon giving off little light, Brannart does not find anything resembling the tracks he is looking for.
”Aye,” the merchant nods. Then he sniffs with his nose and makes a disagreeable face. His forehead crinkles up, ”Do you smell that? Smells like raw fish.” He sniffs toward the Halfling with a slight look of confusion. Then continues, ”Well, you see … this is the second voyage to the colony. First for the Peregrine, but second over all. Purchases are made all over Almas as if they are building a village, and in fact, they are. So lumber, nails, tools, food, all sorts of goods are bought locally and we thrive since this is the venture’s home berth. We merchants make out like bandits.” He gives a wry grin, lifts his glass, ”To the Colony”. The other merchants follow suit and lift their glasses in a toast to Talmandor’s Bounty.
Although Fenna does not find an alternative entrance, she does find a few side windows that can be looked into. To her eyes, it is completely dark in the warehouse.