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You have been in the city of Hajoth Hakados in Numeria for over a week, assisting Venture-Captain Dagur Hawksight with preparing the Pathfinder lodge to receive an important guest: Kevoth-Kul, Numeria’s ruler. Dagur has arranged for Hajoth Hakados’s leader, Lady Altouna to participate in the event. Preparations have been going well so far, and Kevoth-Kul is expected to arrive the following morning.
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Cal has been enjoying the sights and sounds of Numeria, throwing himself into the local scene. He is a tall, handsome human man. He looks clean cut, with shortish blond hair and a faint smile. He is tall for a human, about 6'4". Powerfully built, he wears well-treated shiny half plate and carries an elegant bastard sword. The sword is obviously quite old and used to possess many runes. It currently only has one.
He is sociable with everyone and always aims to make a good impression. He tends to play his violin/fiddle in the evenings and knows quite a few drinking songs.
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”Ooo, the highest of muckety-mucks!”, says Aldonza.
She is a pale elven woman with a black ponytail. Her right eye is violet, her left eye black. She has long purple nails, and wears a jester’s motley in purple, black and white. Holding a large marotte (jester’s baton), she wears a black cloak with the hood down.
”This will be the kind of mission I like”, she says, ”slaying boredom and questing for inebriation!”
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Be careful what you say. Sometimes the Fates listen and one says "Hold my beer".
Vanis Mercuria, Hawksight’s assistant (nonbinary), comes to you all. Vanis gives you a brief nod before speaking.
We of the Hajoth Hakados Lodge thank you for your willingness to contribute in this politically sensitive endeavor. Our attentions cannot be diverted from other matters presently. I shall be brief. Our scribe, a gnome named Zatqualmish, has gone missing as of this morning, along with several necessary documents. We suspect foul play, potentially from an internal element, as the documents were magically hidden. A preliminary search has given us nothing conclusive, but you are welcome to investigate any areas or staff of the lodge you feel may help.
They gather their sheaf of notes and hold out a silver compass. Take this, should you need something to give you a bit of authority with the locals.
He holds out a Wayfinder and suggest you speak with the support staff of the Lodge.
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A tall willowy woman with golden hair catches up to the group. She's out of breath after running to catch up. She wears loose robes and doesn't carry much. However, the healer's tools strapped to the bandolier across her chest make it clear that she's some sort of healer.
"Apologies! I got the time wrong and only realized it. Kaitlyn Deathsbane at your service."
The lightly musical lilt of her voice and the slightly pointed tips of her ears peeking out from beneath her hair speak of her elven heritage.
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Missing from this morning as I said. I can unlock his room for you but yes, speak to the support staff. The Lodge needs to focus its efforts on reconstructing the documents as best they can in case you are unable to
track them down.
”So ‘short’, then. Got it!”, Aldonza replies, with a thumbs-up.
To Callistos, she adds, ”Capital idea! Lead on! The game is afoot!”
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You find out that although Zatqualmish rarely strayed from his room, which he also uses as his office, he spoke most with the lodge’s cook, Miro Loamgarden (male halfling chef). However, a quick word with any of the staff confirms that currently Miro is browsing the markets in town for ingredients.
Checking the room reveals the following:
• A cold, half-finished breakfast for one is laid out on a small table.
• While messy, the room shows no obvious signs of a struggle.
• The desk and cabinets seem to have hastily stripped of quills, inkpots, and other scribing tools, though none of the drawers and wardrobes seem touched.
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Ulfgar's bushy eyebrows raise thoughtfully, almost replacing his receding hairline as he sees the state of the room. He is thorough in his search for anything out of the ordinary but moves on quickly when he gets an idea of what happened.
He waits for the rest of the group but heads towards the markets in town to look for Miro.
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After a few minutes of searching you discover
• There are no footprints or any other sign of passage below the window.
leads into town.
When you head into the market
The Homeshore District’s markets are buzzing with activity. Some peruse at their whims, pointing out odds and ends, while others move with focused purpose to exact stalls and prepare to haggle. While it seems impossible to find anyone here, an obvious path of disgruntled citizens winds its way
around stalls and storefronts.
You find lodge chef Miro Loamgarden haggling with a merchant near the entrance for a very large quantity of tubers.
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Ulfgar moves through the crowd showing no real reaction to the chaos around him, except, perhaps a slight deepening of his eternal scowl.
Yet, his eyes flick from place to place, keeping a look out for danger.
He crosses his arms and watches Miro as the question and answer continues. But when all the answers are given, he nods and then heads for the ink vendor.
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Oh yes. It all depends on what the ink is made from and how it is made
Ah yes. Zatqualmish. He is one of my regular customers. I did actually see him run through the markets in an unheeding rush only a few hours ago, heading for the district of condemned alchemical and blacksmithing workshops known as the Crafters’ Quarters. I though that very odd.
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The miraculously attached sign creaking above the barred door reads “Morgan’s,” the only thing making this squat building distinguishable from the other warehouses crumbling around it. A firmly nailed placard states that the proprietor can now be found at the outskirts of town if needed. The few sooty windows near the ceiling are more for ventilation than
passing perusal and are an unlikely point of entry.
None of the windows allow easy access or a view inside and there are only two entrances: the front where the store once stood and the back. Both have been barred on the outside and secured with a lock.
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While you are working on the lock, you can overhear the following
This affair has taken entirely too long and you have drawn far too much attention to yourself, a woman grumbles imperiously, her rasping growl cutting through static pops and crackles. Maybe you’ve had second thoughts. I would consider just where that would leave you.
A cowardly squeak and pleading murmurs are the only response, the words too slurred to understand.
Get it done, Zatqualmish. I would suggest expediently.
In the silence that follows, the only other sounds inside are shuffling feet, the soft crackles of electricity, and the feverish scratching of quills.
It doesn't take much to pick the lock. ((Two rolls were enough))
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As you open the door ...
No, no, no! cries a terrified voice from a back corner of the
workshop. A trembling diminutive figure frantically blows air onto a page while simultaneously putting away numerous inks, quills, and parchments. I should’ve found somewhere safer to work! I should’ve known... You’re supposed to protect me, right? Well, protect me!
And he is indeed protected by four Technic Zombies.
Initiatives:
(Zatqualmish)
Zatqualmish is still frantically putting things away. Blue moves up to the doorway.
Everyone except Ulfgar and Chenaii are up.