Pemak's page

"We are neither a novice nor a tourist. We trained here. We have surpassed the Vessels Between.

When we leave, it seems likely the killer will come for you. You should take action. Leave town for a while perhaps. Or join us. Can you fight?"

"There you go again. Givin' yer game away to every ear what ain't got wax in it. I'd tell you to be more careful, but I know you're Pathfinders. Anyhow, I wouldn't worry about me. I've got a lot of friends around town."

"More immediately, do you know someone named Ramyla?"

"I think that's the name of the woman who owns the Dripping Wall. Was she associating with me too?"

Janus gauges the half-orc's response.

Janus is a bit too distracted by the woman's attitude to get a clear read--she practically rolled her eyes at Janus's mention of 'Vessels Between'. Janus feels they are missing something. Once the party leaves, and gets out of earshot, Hosser can explain his impression of Pemak.

"You? Protect me!?" She snorts. "Please. You're tourists. You come here with your murder and your poisoning, but you're just here for your treasures. Pathfinders. I can smell you even over sulfur. What happens when you leave? Eh? And wasn't Bosk your boss?"

"It was Brandur. It is irregular to target a member of the military, yes. Do you recognise the name Cladara?"

"Can't say that I do. Do you expect me to know everyone in Daggermark?"

"Clovesh! Why would anyone target him? Wait. Was it Major Jallor Clovesh head of the kingdom's infantry, or his younger brother Brandur? Doing either of them would cause a riot, regardless."

"And Bosk? Why do him? He was liked well-enough and kept his head down." she seems to be talking more to herself than Janus.

"Wolf's bane, aye. Noticed the smell, didja? Clears out the sinuses. A little experiment of mine--that's what was stolen--my original recipe. Been askin' around and word is that it has something to do with that tavern the Drippin' Wall. Ain't had a chance to snoop around there meself. Maybe tomorrow."

"Well? Spit it out. Time's coin ya know."

This is a part where Hosser would know more about what I'm talking about than I do, but Hosser's an herbalist, which means he could be a supplier to stores like these. Let me know what skills you want to roll, but I'm thinking either diplomacy or profession herbalist?

Diplomacy is fine since, Hosser is not really trying to impress her with his knowledge of herbs.

Janus produces the vial they took from Clovesh's place. "Is this one of yours?" they ask Pemak.

"What was it?" she asks looking at the empty vial. "And more to the point what are you in the market for, aye? I doubt it is specialized medicine for a loved one. And who are these unfortunate visitors to the Boneyard you think I associated with?"

"Well, Ma'am. It looks like you could use some protection. If its hiring me as a security person it'll take to be able to talk, then I'll protect you and your wares. We only mean to talk."

"I've done fine without in-sewer-ants and other such for a long time now. I'm talking specialized security, not a suit of armor standin' by the door like Benny the blacksmith's got loiterin' in front of his forge."

"No, but I am considering gettin' me some private security specialists types to look into the matter. Now, are you here to buy somethin' or besmirch me good public reputation? Why the very idear that I would 'associate' with people. Hmph!"

There isn't anything particularly magical about the shop that Ezren can see. The door is slightly ajar and from his vantage he notes that it is not more than a one room hovel with desk full of cookware, well-used alchemical equipment, and bundles herbs and hundreds of mismatched, labelled containers stacked on every available shelf and mantle along the room's walls. At the foot of the bed (that takes up much of the room) there is a row barrels that serve as a sort of countertop.

"And don't you be gittin' any idears. 'Magic'--pah!"

"What? All of yah? No thanks. Already been robbed once this month. 'Sides there taint room enough. And besides who are you all to know I have associations to be murdered? People on the street don't like that kinda talk." the orc-blooded woman says her voice a rough rasp, no doubt the result of several years of frequent tobacco use. The smell hangs around her like a fog.

One thing she is right about though, at the sounding of the word 'murdered' all the conversations around the street, in fact, nearly all noise just seemed to stop and a couple of open windows snap shut.