Elidathas reads the sign and knocks on the inn door. When the dwarf tries to close the door, Elidathas moves to stop him. "I am a healer, sir. Let me attend to your daughter's ills, if I can."
"A healer, you say?" The dwarf eyes Elidathas with suspicion. "I am unaware of any clergy in this city who offer healing services that have not been solicited. Nor am I aware of the Runelord being particularly welcoming to missionaries. May I ask, then, what has brought you to my inn?"
He keeps a hand on the door, ready to shut it quickly if necessary.
To the next pathfinder, she tries to whisper "Maybe not in fish, but in cart and mule, we could take his payment?" cracking herself up, she laughs spastically, overloud!
"What was that?" The dwarf asks upon hearing the laughter. He looks around warily. Spying the kholo near the stable, he asks "Just how many are you?"
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Beezhul looks left, then right.
"We are the Rescue Team" then, as if she hadn't just whispered, pretends that another conversation was happening (even though it was!) "Hmm. I'd have to look those mules in the mouth. And have one of the brothers examine the wagon. But maybe, maybe. It has been explained by my employer that we oughtn't barter in fish, unfortunately" then codeswitches again "We were told it was you and your daughter" and winks at him.
Tongue sticking out of her mouth. A nervous tick of enjoying the whole 'double-agent' schtick.
"We are the Rescue Team" then, as if she hadn't just whispered, pretends that another conversation was happening (even though it was!) "Hmm. I'd have to look those mules in the mouth. And have one of the brothers examine the wagon. But maybe, maybe. It has been explained by my employer that we oughtn't barter in fish, unfortunately" then codeswitches again "We were told it was you and your daughter" and winks at him.
"Rescue?" The dwarf repeats. He begins to shut the door, then stops when he realizes who these visitors may be. "Perhaps, you should come inside."
"Aye. We're all in this together," Spurtz says.
"All of you, then." The innkeeper beckons. "Come."
Once the party enters, the dwarf hesitantly steps out into the street, looking around to see if anyone else may be watching. Satisfied, he quietly closes the door tightly.
"I am Yuleg Bluingot." he says as he locks the door behind him. "But, I suspect that you may already know that."
"And, I pray that you truly are a healer, " He says to Elidathas. "Otherwise, if you are who I suspect, then you have come a long way for nothing. My daughter, Vurna, is indeed quite ill and I have no intention of leaving her bedside until she is well."
"If you cannot help her, then I suggest that you all go. Otherwise, if one or more of you may be help then please follow me." Yuleg implores. "
[b]"I haven't left Vurna's side to get any more since she fell ill," Yuleg offers as explanation. He turns his gaze toward you, looking eyes with a knowing look. "Can you help her, please?"
"Unfortunately, I have little to give you in exchange. I do, however, still have most of my stock of pickled fish, if you wish to help yourselves." Yuleg suggests, gesturing over to a row of six, large barrels. Each barrel is filled to the brim with a briny mixture.
Lying in a nearby room is young, pale, and bedridden dwarven woman. Her entire complexion has a greenish tinge.
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Beezhul freaks as some casually mentions that they split the party "But but... what if the Emerald Guard captures one of us, how will the others know?... And won't that compromise the whole operation! We got people counting on us!"
She paces back and forth, nervously.
"I mean, I guess I could ask around about our other two contacts" she looks at the one who took the very-good forgeries that Flitch made "Maybe while someone else gets us more dock papers - ideally something that would let a large person through" "While you tend to the sick one's illness?" she glances at the party healer.
"Or! We could just all wait here" she catches the smell of fish, and her tummy grunbles...
As Ma'elo and Spurtz tend to the sick Vurna, her father paces nervously.
Upon identifying the source of the young woman's illness, Spurtz concludes that her condition, while poor, could be more desperate and, in all likelihood, she will survive at least one more day.
"You can help her, yes?" Yuleg calls out to the pair of "healers". "I am most grateful for whatever help you can offer."
"You and your companions are, of course, welcome to stay here as long as you'd like. Unfortunately, I don't have much in the way of foodstuffs. I do, however, still have most of my stock of pickled fish, if you wish to help yourselves." Yuleg suggests, gesturing over to a row of six, large barrels. Each barrel is filled to the brim with a briny mixture.
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"We should return here for curfew then. We can treat the woman's disease and work on these barrels. Ka'elen says. Then turning to Spurtz, "I can help with that part."
Speaking to Yuleg, the old elf asks, "We cannot accept the fish as payment here, but the barrels and the wagon will be useful in our escape from this place. Do you have anything else to offer our employer in exchange for your rescue?"
"Do you have anything else to offer our employer in exchange for your rescue?"
"Knowing your 'employer', I don't think that he would have sent you if he didn't know that I did." Yuleg states firmly. "However, I think the matter is moot under the present circumstances. If Vurna is not well, then we do not leave. Without such an exchange, there will be no payment."
The dwarf adds. "I assure you, if you get my daughter well and she is able to travel, then you will and your 'employer' will be well-compensated."
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Glad not to split the party in this god-forsaken city, Beezhul relaxes visibly. She looks around her party "We will return at dusk, and tend to her through the night" then, grabbing a few salted fishes (yum!), she calls a huddle - leaning into the makeshift circle of bodies, her hands upon elven necks, she proposes that they visit "...The Emerald Guardhouse?" then, realizing that probably all the Emerald Guard will be there (yikes!) backtracks and counterproposes (her own proposal) "...or, um, maybe the Ministry of Tithes will be safer..." and swallows.
They will have to enter the "belly of the beast" sooner or later she shudders...
Leaving the Rockfish Inn, the party enters into the streets of the city. You find them already busy with the usual checkpoints and patrols in operation. You find that you make good time and arrive at Ministry of Tithes within minutes!
Unfortunately, there is a longline of people waiting to get into the marble structure and a pair of guards by the door making sure that everyone within line waits their turn and remains orderly.
Once you join the line of people, it takes you about two hours to get to the lobby area of the Ministry.
When you make your way inside, you see rows and rows of desks arranged in an orderly fashion around prominent stone statue in the likeness of Runelord Belimarius. Sitting at the desks, well-dressed bureaucrats busily tending to piles of paperwork.
The line of people from outside ends at a reception desk, which also lies within the shadow of the statue of the Runelord. Here a neatly dressed woman sits at the desk with books and quill in hand. Next to her standsa well-manicured man, also in fine attire, who is leaning over her. The two appear to be engaged in animate conversation.
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Beezhul nods to Ka'elen. There are many to protect. Professors, children, giants, thieves.
Arriving at the ministry, she wonders if the man sitting at the desk is Themolin. How do you tell an auditor by what they wear? Or if they are rich? Is it nice clothes? Beezhul shakes her head, for, not wearing many clothes herself, hasn't really a way to gauge whether clothes are "nice" or "not".
Flustered, she lets someone else to the thinking and talking...
Ma'elo steps forward meekly,
As he does, hear can better hear the words the man is saying to the woman.
"And you really do need to see the waterfront from my chalet, Delloriah," the man urges. "This weekend, perhaps?"
"I'm sure that I am busy, Baralbus." the woman responds. "Now, if you'll pardon me..." The woman pauses to make eye contact with Ma'elo.
"Uhm, excuse me. I'm sorry to interrupt, and I won't need to interrupt long if you can direct us to a Themolin? I was told that our situation was being moved to Themolin."
"Themolin?" Baralbus mutters softly, before inquiring. "What sort of 'situation’, do you have with Themolin?”
Trying to ignore Baralbus, Deloriah opens up one of the books in front of her and scans the page. "The Director of Audits is a very busy man" She informs Ma'elo. "Meetings with the Director Themolin are by appointment only."
Looking into the book, she runs her finger down the page, then adds. "His next available appointment is four days from now. Under what name shall I make the appointment?"
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Four days from now is exactly too late. And the money this client is providing keeps the campfire burning. Beezhul steps up, allowing Delloriah to smell her breath.
"Four days won't do" she tries to, through omission, speak true statements "And the matter concerning our boat grows in severity each passing day" finally "Please. We are of ample means, and if there was any way you would be willing to help"
Four days from now is exactly too late.
"Four days won't do" she tries to, through omission, speak true statements "And the matter concerning our boat grows in severity each passing day" finally "Please. We are of ample means, and if there was any way you would be willing to help"
"What is the matter with your boat?" Baralbus inquires.
Deloria shushes him. "Please, Baralbus, can't you see that this person is trying to talk?"
The man keeps his mouth shut as the receptionist continues to speak with the kholo. "Please don't mind Sub-Director Baralbus. Now, if you have a pressing issue, I suppose I might be able to rearrange Director Themolin's calendar a little bit..."
"You wouldn't want to be the one to let your esteemed employer miss out, would you?"
"Well, if it is as important as it sounds, then I suppose the Director will want to see you immediately." Deloriah declares. She rises from her desk, causing Baralbus to step aside.
"Follow me." Deloriah instructs. As she leads the party past where Baralbus is standing, the Sub-Director's face falls.
"Maybe we can get together next weekend?" He calls out to the receptionist as she enters the sea of desks.
Deloriah stops at a large desk covered with stacks of papers. "Director Themolin, there are number of persons here to see you. They said that their situation is urgent. Something about a boat?"
A portly man with thinning hair looks up from behind several stacks of papers, some nearly toppling from the heavy wooden desk upon which they are perched. "A-a boat?" Themolin stammers with a mousy voice as he hesitantly rises to his feet.
After pausing for a moment, he dismisses the receptionist. "Thank you, Deloriah. That will be all."
When the receptionist departs, Themolin leans in closely to speak with you. "Unscheduled appointments are highly unusual around here. Just what are you here to see me about?"
A picture of Themolin is now available in Slides.
"A boat preparing to leave" Beezhul declares, remaining ominous "I believe you know which boat I speak of. I understand you are good for the gold"
Speaking almost plainly, as if they weren't inside of a state building.
The Emerald Guard could have already gotten to him...
Themolin exclaims as his obvious nervous habits of scratching and stammering suddenly become more pronounced.
"It app-appears th-that y-you may b-be here by m-m-mistake. I c-can th-think of n-n-nothing further that we m-may have to d-d-discuss." The bureaucrat nervous continues. He gestures the party to go as he rapidly tries to reclaim the seat behind his desk.
Themolin's words appear to be creating a bit of a scene as the eyes of various bureaucrats and officials look up from their desks and turn in your direction.
The director retakes his seat behind the piles of documents covering his desk.
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Ma'elo's eyes dart around frantically as he fights to maintain composure. "Mr. Themolin, there is no need to draw attention." He then raises his hands in between them placatively, Please allow me to clarify, there is an opportunity for you and our boat. Is that the right way to say it?" Ma'elo leans forward, reaching out his hands onto Themolin's desk to accentuate his point, "We are not forcing you. But surely, you'd be safer."
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Nope.
Beezhul turns around to leave, treasure bundles be damned. No need to create drama that uncovers the entire plot.
She let's the elves make their decisions, but no self-respecting kholo trying to cooperate under pain of imprisonment in a foreign jail would allow some fool of a tax collector (or whatever) to jeopardize her freedom as well as everyone else she has sworn to protect.
She awaits at the door - soon as the others come to their senses.
Themolin is clearly nervous. He ignores the kobold's question, but listens as Ma'elo and Eladithas speak with him.
"We are not forcing you. But surely, you'd be safer."
Seeing Ma'elo snatch an affidavit off his desk, Themolin quickly snatches it back.
"f-Fine." Themolin mutters. He pulls out a quill and begins to jot something down on loose piece of paper.
He fold the paper in half and hold it out to the elf. "M-meet me th-there t-tomorrow at last b-bell."
"Good Themolin, I assure you that we are more than capable of keeping you safe and your departure a secret. You may trust us. Pathfinders are many things, but most of all, sir, we are competent."
The nervous bureaucrat eyes the human and then concedes, "Perhaps, you are right. Sooner is better. I will meet you there in tw hours."
"Here." Themolin continues, handing the affidavit over to Eladithas. "Your friend wanted this and, if you are correct, I have no use for it."
[spoiler=If you open the folded paper]You find that it contains an address for a warehouse located in Envy Row West.[spoiler]
Although the address provided by Themolin is not far from the Ministry of Tithes, there seems to be a large number of people coming and going through this portion of the city. Further, security is tight as the Ministry of Tithes lies within close proximity to the palace of the Runelord. Accordingly, it takes the party about two hours to reach the location provided by the nervous bureaucrat--an hour later than Themolin had requested.
Passing through a final checkpoint, the party heads south along a main road toward the indicated location. Upon reaching the designated address, you find a well-maintained building, which readily stands out from the dilapidated housing that surrounds it.
The main road continues east of the party's current position and leads to a small man-gate that abuts the street and leads into a work yard where the main entrances of the warehouses lie. Indications of a larger, loading gate along the south of the property can also be seen. A nearby alley branches off from the main road and runs along the northern edge of the property. A small man-door exits into the ally from the warehouse.
The warehouse stands about 30 feet tall. There are no windows.
Map of warehouse now on Slides with the three doors each numbered in green.
You find that it is unlocked.
You find that it is locked.
You find that it is locked.
Ma'elo carefully and slowly attempts to open the door in the alley, clearly trying to be quiet. "It's locked, " he whispers as he grabs some tools from a pocket. ",Let us see if I can..."
Ma'elo feels some of the internal tumblers within the lock begin to move.