The Rusty Flagon Inn (Inactive)

Game Master Nightfiend

Perception: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (2) + 10 = 12
"Greetings, Gorvina. We've returned", Wayilant said, looking far different than when the teifling last say him. "Everybody else inside?"

Sighing in relief a bit as the others finally arrive, she gestures casually to the noisy building and nods.

"Greetings good Sir and to your entourage as well. Our friends have dared to enter this building. Evidently this is the local hospital for those in need of mental care...and a Lodge? Maybe we can understand things better if we go inside. I'm sure there is a good explanation for it all. I'm unsure if the young one should enter such a place however? I've never been to one like this, but I've heard some strange rumors of such places in the past."

Once everyone arrives and is situated, Dr. Trice continues. “Unfortunately my place of business doesn’t have all the comforts as a fully dedicated inn. That said, I do have a large number of unoccupied rooms available, and my staff commonly prepare food for the morning and evening meal. You are welcome to enjoy both the rooms, as well as the meals, at your leisure of course. With consideration that you are working with Shiela, and the Pathfinder Society, you are welcome to stay here as long as you need. All I ask is that you provide me with some sort of advanced warning if your endeavors bring unwanted attention that will require additional caution on my part. After all, I have a number of occupants here that I need to consider. Aside from that, if I can be of any other help with whatever the Society has commissioned you to do, let me know.” After concluding his introduction, he moves over to his desk and pulls out a number of brandy sifters and a large bottle of brandy. “Please make yourself comfortable and enjoy a glass with me. I’m very interested in hearing about the world at large.” After poring a glass for himself, he slides the brandy across the table. A number of large, padded comfort chares sit around the fireplace along with an equal number of small round end tables that reside to the right of each chair.

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (11) + 12 = 23

Liotierri notices the good dr keeping a distance from him, and chooses to ignore it for the moment, Of course Doctor, he says, accepting a glass and pouring himself a healthy brandy, We've got a few things we're following here in the city, however none of them are particularly savory, so perhaps its best we find a nearby inn which can also provide the ladies and child with less anxious causing occupants. Now, if you don't mind- I would love to change into something less....smelly. And wash up briefly? I'll leave my colleagues to fill you in... he says and departs to clean himself up and change clothing.

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (3) + 10 = 13
The remarkably better dressed cleric steps forward to shake the doctor's hand. "Hello, Doctor. And thank you. I am Wayilant Arden, cleric of Cayden Caliean, and this is my daughter, Julie. We, as you must have been told, are here on Pathfinder business. Thank you for the respite from the elements and gazes of passersby. We just need a place to gather ourselves and plan the next steps." Diplomacy: 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (16) + 13 = 29

Staying in the back of the room, Govrina tries to watch and listen to the important discussion going on close by, but the odd and disturbing sounds of the people locked up in the building keep causing her to flinch and sigh quietly. Her eyes glaze over a bit as she tries to imagine she's back home listening to one of her dad's lectures on 'perfection' and the constant striving for it...

Without hesitation, Dr. Trice calls over one of his staff, who in turn escorts Liotierri to a nearby corridor. After a short distance down the corridor, she opens the door to an adjoining room and offers its use to the inquisitor. “You are welcome to use the room for as long as you like. I will bring you hot water and a bathing tub if you like.” The young girl couldn’t me more than eighteen and is somewhat petite. Soon, she turns and heads back down the corridor.

‘Very interesting my lord. It seems you have not only mastered Ustalav’s dress standards but have also done so in a very refined way.” Trice says while taking a moment to look over the four well-dressed party members before politely diverting his gaze away. “Your choice in attire will serve you well here in Ustalav. We have more than our fair share of turned up noises here, and that's being kind. As far as your Pathfinder business, I'm at your service if you require it. I have resided here long enough to have an intimate understanding of the city and its inner workings. If I can offer any advice, please let me know. If the lodge is a bit unsuited for your taste, then you might find comfort at the Sleepy Spoon. Once you make a right on the next cross street, you will find the food-house next to a small tavern called The Golden Barrel. The establishment provides food and rooms. Being that the location is directly next to a tavern, I presume that will go a long way to satisfy the needs of a cleric devoted to Cayden Cailean.” After pouring a second glass of brandy, he sits down in one of the padded chairs. "Please, make yourselves comfortable. Your college will likely be a moment tidying up."

Perception: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (11) + 7 = 18

Liotierri follows the young woman, Thank you yes, the carriages in this city have no regard for the common passerby, a tub and some hot water would be ideal to wash away the dirt of the roads. What's your name? How do you know the Doctor? he asks politely while digging through his pack for some clean clothes.

The young girl turns in the doorway in response to Gravi's inquiry. “Oh, my apologies for being rude. My name is Emely and Dr. Trice is my dad. I help out here sometimes. People willing to work here is a bit hard to find. Anyway, I’ll be back shortly with some hot water. I suspect it will take about four trips to fill the tub and then it’s all yours.”

The cleric starts to rummage through his backpack. "Well, Flagon Slayers. Shall we stay here tonight under Dr. Trice's hospitality, or go across the street to the Golden Barrel, or the Sleepy Spoon?"

"Either way, I want to review the information we have", Wayilant says as he read various notes he pulled from his backpack.

Govrina shrugs.

”I’m not sure I would be welcome many places here. I will stay here at the Lodge. Noises won’t disturb me. Yes, we should discuss our objectives and decide where we all go from here.”

Wayilant pulls out the parchment that he copied from Shiela’s ledger.

After taking an extended look at Govrina, Dr. Trice raises a single eyebrow. “Well young lady. You are an interesting quandary to say the least. Can’t say I have seen many with your heritage around here. You might be correct with your evaluation of the locals. Ustalav is unfortunately burdened with an unfair amount of hypervigilant superstition. Understandably so, considering what this region has been through. You are wise to be cautious with your heritage. That said, you have nothing to fear while you are here in my lodge.”

I placed a spoiler tab at the top of the page for quick access to the ledger note.

Liotierri politely bows, introducing himself, Thank you Emely, I look forward to it. I am Liotierri Magravi, and it is a pleasure to meet you. I can understand how it would be challenging to find people willing to work in this place, it can be unsettling for sure. he politely says, and goes back to inventorying his gear while Emely brings up hot water for him to quickly bathe.

After a total of five trips, which included fresh linens and towels, Emely shuts the room’s door and gives Gravi some privacy. Looking through the linens, Gravi finds soap and a bottle of fragranced herbs that can be added to the bathing water. A large bathing tub, made of barrel like planks, now sits half full of hot water in the corner of the room. Small candles illuminate the area, while a small caldron warms itself over a nearby flame. The early morning light adds a refreshing feeling to the room as it penetrates around a set of closed shudders. On the opposite side of the room, a medium sized bed rests with freshly laundered bedding sitting on top of its straw filled mattress. The mattress, which is firmly packed, is lined with a thick cotton overlay that gives the bed a very inviting appearance.

Nodding at Dr. Trice's comments she replies easily and waves casually at the facility around them.

"I also wouldn't mind helping around here if you need me Doctor. One thing I'm good at is staying busy and keeping my head down. My father is an Iroran monk seeking perfection: Clean living and hard work were taught to me from an early age I'm afraid. I also have some unique 'magical talents' that could be of use, especially if there are large heavy objects you need moved around quickly."

Dr. Trice considers Govrina's offer and then replies. "OK, I'm intrigued. What kind of magical talents do you poses?"

"Doctor Trice, is there a room we could less disruptive to you, or is it acceptable for you to The Flagon Slayers to conduct our business in this greeting room?" Wayilant asks.

Govrina smiles subtly.

"Intrigued yes? You are not the first doctor to be interested in what I can do: I have the ability to summon and control what I'm told is called Aether. It appears as a magical blue-white mist that surrounds objects and allows me to move them around with my will. I recently learned to lift and carry larger object many hundreds of pounds too. Creatures are hard to grasp with Aether for some reason. The Aether doesn't grasp them easily, but I can throw smaller objects with the power and speed to defend myself against others. There are other minor abilities of similar nature."

With a simple gesture, her mist surrounds a stray bottle of brandy and whisks it quickly to her hand. She then waves the bottle and raises her eyebrow in triumph.

"That's about it."

After thinking about it for a moment, the Dr. turns to Wayilant. “I'm able to provide a room if you like. That said, this room should be safe and without interruptions. If you like, I could inform my staff to avoid the room unless it’s an emergency.”

Reflecting on Govrina’s explanation, he turns back to his conversation with the Tiefling. “I'm absolutely fascinated by your candor. Would you say that this ability is magical or an extension of the mind? I have come across someone, in my past travels, that was able to manipulate things using only thought. It was an amazing development that I was, unfortunately, unable to explore further due to his current situation. Soon after our conversation, the Havenguard Greeters had their way with the poor man, which resulted in an untimely demise. I did get a chance to examine his brain after the incident. It was simply fascinating. If you are going to be around for a while, I would love to explore your abilities. I would compensate you quite rewardingly. The whole experiment wouldn't take more than a few months.”

Bryndís is quite content to relax and have a couple of drinks, brandy or whatever it is she can get off the Doctor. She doesn't see any need to move elsewhere rather than staying where they are, at least until given a reason to think paying to stay at another place would be better.

She largely stays out of the conversations unless she needs to respond to a question directed at her. But, she does decide to put her thumb on the scale in regards to the two contracts they have. It is clear which one of them should be taken up first, and she doesn't want to spend time in the near future on a group discussion or debate on how to proceed. It's such a waste of energy.

"Doctor, tomorrow we must go to the Quarterfaux Archive. Is that place nearby?"

After all, if a man is missing and the time has passed to realize he's missing, conduct an initial search for him by perhaps informing the local constabulary or watch, then fail to find him so completely that the next step is sending word all the way to Magnimar about the contract, then for them and all others to delay on taking the contract until they did, and after that to travel to Ustalav, the guy is pretty godsdamn missing.

Delay will only make a cold trail even colder. The missing man must come first.

Dr. Trice leans back comfortably in his chair. “Let’s see. What can I share about the museum? It’s been a while since I had the time to visit that place. It's not to fare from here. About three blocks I would say.”

After swirling his drink a few times, the Dr. begins to share what he knows about the museum. “Both Museum and academy to Caliphas’s young nobles, the curators of the Quarterfaux Archives seek not to explore the world, but to bring its wonders here for all to see. Whether gathered by traveling professors or purchased from unscrupulous organizations, the artifacts of the museum’s collection range from Ulfen longboats and mysterious northland fossils to living elven root sculptures and strange Mwangi fetishes. Currently of greatest local interest are the Canopic Ethers of Menedes discovered by Osiriontologist Abraun Chalest, and the temporary display of the Moulot Family’s Thassilonian treasure, the Invidian Eye.”

Trice enjoys a drink from his sifter before continuing. “The thousands of relics, rarities, curiosities and documents making up the royal collection of Ustalav reside in the libraries and exhibits collectively known as the Quarterfaux Archives. While only a fraction of the collection is kept on display, scholars and students from among the country’s most elite families come here to study under some of the greatest—if most conservative—minds in the nation. Very few are allowed access to the greater collection, typically only those of noble lineage whose families have made significant donations to the museum, but even then, there are still certain works and artifacts that can only be viewed with the written permission of the museum’s head curator, Regan Saramul.”

Looking over his notes, Wayilant looks up and asks the physican a question. "Doctor Trice, does the name Drusilla Amdis mean anything to you?" Diplomacy: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (12) + 12 = 24

While responding to Wayilant’s question, Trice gets a puzzled look on his face. “Odd. That name rings a bell, but I can’t say I have heard it mentioned in quite some time. She was a lower echelon noble with a fading lineage here in Caliphas. She went missing a few years back, which lead to a year's long investigation. If memory serves me correctly, I don’t believe we ever figured out what happened to her. Since her disappearance, her estate has been sold twice over.” He shrugs. “To this day, as far as I know, she is still missing. Is she a friend or relative of yours?”

Wayilant glances at the other Flagon Slayers, than back to the good doctor. "She is our link to a group of human traffickers which have been raiding Varisia for young human females."

“Raiding Varisia? You don’t say. Perhaps we might be talking about different people. She didn’t seem the type to participate in such villainy. Much less, all the way out there. I mean, if you were going to partake in such a thing, why travel all the way out to Varisia. That’s a lot of effort when you could simply target individuals closer to home. Strange, yet I’m assuming you have your reasons to suspect the problem stems from Ustalav. Considering your blight, I hope you are successful in putting an end to it.” The doctor replies with a bit of apprehensiveness.

Govrina hands the bottle of pilfered brandy to Bryndis, and she chimes in on this thread of talk of the kidnappers.

"Its a working theory that this group/organization, whomever they are, were farming young women from Varisia in order to prevent suspicions here locally. Whatever their final intent, we have a trail that leads here. I for one intend to follow that lead wherever it goes. I know we might not be able to rescue everyone caught in their webs, but I intend to find the spider at the center and squash it with a 400lb rock. Over and over again if needs be."

The doctor gets a confused look on his face. "And those obductions are link with a missing person from the museum? Well, it all sounds somewhat dark. If you are intending to stay here tonight, I will have the staff turn down a number of rooms. Just let me know how many rooms you would like. I have more than enough available."

It is still somewhat early morning.

Wayilant folded his hands. 'Doctor Trice, since you have made our 'Rina feel safer under your roof, we would like to take you up on your most generous offer. We will likely make other arrangements tomorrow. Thank you again, Doctor."

"So, Flagon Slayers?" The cleric asked. "What should we do next? Investigate the museum? Maybe get some breakfast since we're on solid ground again?"

Darius groans on the group's decision to sleep in lodge. "Unlimited credit for accommodation, and we stay in a loony house. What's wrong with these baieti..?"

On the other hand, the young mage has slept in much worse places. At least here they have a roof on top of their heads.

"So, Flagon Slayers?" The cleric asked. "What should we do next? Investigate the museum? Maybe get some breakfast since we're on solid ground again?"

"Museum is buen. They have a missing person, we need to know more if we're to find him. Si, who knows it could be related to the other case." Darius agrees to the idea. And he is starting to feel a bit peckish. Hopefully the food isn't too foreign - in the morning he'd like some safe and familiar.

I’m going to assume, based on what input I have received from previous posts that the group is heading to the Quarterfaux Archives to seek out the petitioner of the quest, Cynthia Nail. It is currently mid-morning and about four hours from which you arrived.

The doctor acknowledges your intent to stay and then alerts the staff of that intent. After sharing a story or two, and enjoying a couple glasses of brandy, the group heads out towards the museum.

The Quarterfaux Archive is a massive university that also serves as the royal archive of wondrous artifacts from all over Golarion. Its main entrance, which is the university’s largest building, serves as the establishment’s primary public contact point. Upon entering the building, you can see that it is bustling with activity. Young youths, ranging from 18 to 20, rush around the large exhibit hall in an attempt to make it to their classes on time. Across the room a separated office sits with open doors, which looks to be where many of the faculty reside. Within the room, an older woman sitting at a large desk, looks up as you approach. “Welcome to the Quarterfaux Archive. How may I help you?” The woman asks while visually examining your group. Behind the woman, a number of what looks like scholars move about the room preparing a number of documents for the day’s lesson. From overheard conversations, you suspect the lesson has to do with Ustalav's history.

The finely-dressed cleric steps forward. "Thank you. We're looking for the Chief Curator, Ms. Nail?"
Diplomacy (Charming): 1d20 + 14 ⇒ (18) + 14 = 32

“Chief curator?” The woman asks with a concerned look on her face. “I don’t believe we have a chief curator. Our head curator is currently Regan Saramul. And he is only available by appointment of course. The name Nail rings a bell though.” After taking out a ledger, she begins perusing its contents. “Nail, let’s see. Ah yes. I knew I recalled hearing that name. She is a junior curator who is currently assigned to our newest appropriation, the Zerose Observatory. The Observatory is located towards the back of our property but is currently closed due to some sort of problem that has recently taken place. Mrs. Nail is the night curator and can be reached sometime in the evening.

Wayilant Diplomacy 32: The woman takes a hard look at Wayilant and lady Talienda before continuing. “If you like, I could assign you a pass that will allow you after hour’s access to that part of the facility.”

"A thousand apologies, madam", Wayilant bowed. "An evening pass sounds like just what we need."

The woman pulls out a smaller ledger and a quill. "Your name my lord, so I can account for your pass." She glances at the rest of the group for a moment and then continues. "And anyone else who might be accompanying you."

She pulls out a few smaller parchments with inked seals in their upper left corners. "You know, my lord, we are always on the lookout for new benefactors. If you find our endeavors to be relevant to your own, donations are always welcome. Especially from dignified individuals, such as yourself."

"I am Wayilant Arden, accompanying Lady Talienda Blackthorn, and the rest of her entourage", the aasimar nods.

After noting each individual's names, she fills out the smaller parchment, which has the seal on it. Once complete, she slides them over to Wayilant. "I hope you enjoy your visit here at the Quarterfaux Archive."

That gives the group the rest of the day to accomplish anything you would like before returning to the Quarterfaux Archive in the evening. Once everyone is ready to proceed, I will press the game into the evening.

Wayilant smiles as he takes the sealed parchment, then turns to go back to the others.
"Well, I'm gonna see if The Golden Barrel offers a breakfast? Anybody else wanna come?"

Gravi nods in appreciation, Starving.... let's get some food, the entourage is simply famished... he jokes. What other leads did we need to follow up with here, other than the Archive. It may be best to attempt to make contact later this evening with other leads....[b] he leans heavily into what he's not saying there, [b]And we'll need to work a different room than the Lodge we're staying at - it could get unseemly and dangerous, so obviously I'm into that, but that's later tonight.

The Golden Barrel, located directly next to the Sleepy Spoon restraint and lodge, is a privately owned ale house. The establishment seats approximately fifty guests split between twenty tables. Its bar supports an additional fifteen stools and is by far the most active part of the establishment.

As the group arrives, the place feels somewhat slow. Aside from an occasional patron leaving or entering the establishment, not much else stands out. The aroma of freshly grilled barbeque accents the morning’s air, but it is difficult to tell if it's coming from the ale house or the restraint next door.

The double wide wooden doors of the ale house swing open as one of its patrons steps out, which allows everyone an opportunity to glimpse the building's robust layout. Its maple-wood chest-high bar splits a third of the room, separating the patrons from what looks like a treasure trove of alcohol decanters of various shapes, sizes, and colors.

As you enter, you catch sight of a number of vagrants taken refuge between the two establishments, who appear to be making good use of the strategic location between the two food-based businesses. From a quick glance, you estimate that the Spoon recently discarded a large bucket of leftovers that never made it to the garbage.

As the two heavy wooden doors latch shut behind you, you notice that the ale house’s center tables appear to be mostly occupied and are currently being serviced by an older woman, who seems preoccupied with a particular table. “Please come in and make yourselves comfortable.” She shouts over at your group while jotting down her tables order. Off to both right and left of the room, a number of unoccupied tables rest comfortably up against the building’s wooden walls. To the right, a couple windows give a clear view of the cobblestone street in front of the establishment, while the windows to the left feature the ally where the vagrants are muddled up. Those windows are currently blocked by heavy drapes designed to shield patrons from the inhumanity that takes place daily in the alley.

Wayilant takes Julie and walks over to the right. "We might be having an early lunch, by the smell of things", the cleric bend down to tell his daughter.
Feeling his new finer clothes, Wayilant assists the women to sit first. No doubt Bryndis will hate this gesture, the aasimar thought.

Trying not to stand out, Govrina keeps her hood up and her tail out of sight when she sits.

"I wonder what kind of food they have here? I fear it might be dull, bland, and grey...like this whole land seems to be."

Finding a suitable table, off to the right of the room, the group settles in. Soon a younger woman approaches the table. "Good morning, I'm Alexandra and I’ll be your server for the stay.” She says while laying a parchment on the table. The parchment lists a number of food items, which seem to be a bit basic. Bread buns (1 sp.) being the prominent item is followed by a variety of nuts and grains (1 sp.) that are listed as beverage snacks. There are a couple sandwich options that include a sausage and sauerkraut sandwich for (5 sp.) and a grilled ham and cheese sandwich for (5 sp.). Although the list of food items seems somewhat short, the list of alcohol beverages is quite the opposite. That list ranges from basic ale all the way to imported Dwarven spirits. To the right of the decanters list, is a second list that highlights a number of elven wines. Notably, within the list of imported ales, you catch sight of a raspberry ale that you recognize as being from the Fancy Reefclaw, which is owned by House Deverin.

After sitting down the parchment, the woman gives the group a few moments to look over the list and then offers to take your order.

Bryndís doesn't hate Wayilant's gesture. She doesn't think about it at all until he tries it on her. But, she's not the first in line to get the treatment so she knows what's coming when he tries it on her. Then she thinks it's just really dumb. She shakes him off, muttering "f%+~ off" in a voice low enough to not draw attention.

She sits beside Govrina since the other woman's mood seems to best match her own. While there's no denying that Wayilant has been aces at getting this done that morning, Bryndís has been bored. She's also not liking Caliphas, which rankles a little since she's the one who pushed hard to come here.

"Crap city isn't it?" she comments to Govrina.

Wayilant blinked as Bryndis sat down. The cleric looked at the menu, then conferred with Julie. "Two grilled ham and cheese sandwiches for me, one grilled ham and cheese and one bread bun, for the little lady. I'll take two bottles of elven wine to start with, one for me, and one for the two ladies over there.", the aasimar nods toward Lady Talienda and Alina.

"Crap city isn't it?" she comments to Govrina.

Smiling at Bryndis, Govrina rolls her eyes in appreciation of her comment.

Perception: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (14) + 7 = 21

Without being obvious about it, Govrina looks pointed at Bryndis.

"Without being obvious about it, do you see that guy in the window looking at us? I think I saw him earlier in the alley I up-chucked in. He was looking at me funnily then too. Think he might be following us...me? He seems weird."