Init:
'By the Wilds!' Qarxen exclaims and casts mage armor on himself.
Deston draws his sword and rushes forward in support of Samisel.
"If you gents are lookign for a mount, I'd sugegst the brothel next time!" Talic then hurls a bullet at the closest would be theif
Deston will move up to the closest horse theif and hit him. I will use combat expertise to bump my AC to 20.
To hit:
Damage:
Lynnara will cast Bless on our group if she sees a spot where making a 5 foot square of ground difficult terrain a tatical advantage for us that will be her second move. Otherwise she will ready her pistol
Emmentian allows Cirrus to coil his way to the ground, and emits a low hissing sound while pointing a finger towards the inhuman men trying to steal Ornerokh.
The pair then rush forwards towards the fray, Emmentian ducking low with an unnatural ease, while the snake slithers rapidly alongside him.
As a standard action, Samisel uses his Tactician ablitity to grant Precise Strike to his allies. (Whenever you and an ally who also has this feat are flanking the same creature, you deal an additional 1d6 points of precision damage with each successful melee attack. This bonus damage stacks with other sources of precision damage, such as sneak attack.) He will then move 20' towards the enemy.
As the party breaks into action, Deston's lithe form sprints to the fore, leaping amidst the kidnappers and lashing out with his blade, drawing blood from the one foolish enough to stand in his way. Samisel is a step behind him, calling out orders and drawing attention to the enemies' weaknesses. Behind them, Qarxan closes his eyes and mutters under his breath, his incantation causing the air around him to swirl and solidify hard as armor.
As one of the thieves opens his mouth to sound the alarm to his companions, a small pebble crashes into his skull with surprising force, blurring his vision for a moment. As the man regains his senses, he finds himself face to face with a determined looking gnome and his pet viper, coiling as if ready to strike. Behind them stands a tall beautiful woman in a white robe, whispering a prayer as she calmly slips a loaded pistol from her belt.
Grimacing from the wound in his shoulder, the man in front of Deston swings wildly at him in frustration, his scimitar passing harmlessly through the air as the nimble swordsman sidesteps the blow. His companion, still unharmed, steps up to meet the charging cavalier, his thrust finding a chink in the elf's armor more by chance than skill, but causing a grievous, bloody wound nonetheless. Ahead of him, the kidnapper bleeding from his head aims a swipe at the gnome before him, which the small serpent shaman easily ducks. Their last companion, now aboard their ship, closes the lock on Ornerokh's cage and scrambles to untie the mooring line, eager to be rid of this intimidating and violent party, even if it means abandoning his compatriots.
Qarxan lifts his hands, weaving a spell and chanting a nearly hypnotic incantation. He points at the wannabe escapist as he finishes.
Deston ignores the thief in front of him and takes a running jump to get on the boat before it takes off.
At the assault from the wounded thief, Emmentain ducks under the clumsy blow to slip around the side of the man while the serpent following beside him circles to his other side. With the coordination that only comes from many shared battles, the two lash out in unison.
Talic sees Deston's leap and races forward to assist him. As he jumps, he yells to the would be thief, "I'd surrender now, If you want to live!"
Samisel gasps at the pain but stares down his attacker. Well struck, knave! I like a good challenge!
Attack
Damage
Edit: Crit confirm
Crit damage
Quickly retracting his sword, Deston stutter steps and feints, causing his frustrated foe to miss him once more, then the agile swordsman leaps for the boat that bears Ornerokh's prison. As he clears the gap to the ship, he hears Talic fall gracefully behind him, hot on his heels in pursuit of the cowardly thief loosening the ropes. As the pair nears him, however, they see his hands go slack, and a melancholy stupor come over his face. Talic shoots a questioning look over at Qarxan, who merely winks and smiles.
Back on the dock, Samisel is engaged in a bitter duel with his foe. Though his wound is stinging fiercely, he shrugs off the pain and delivers a nasty cut to his opponents abdomen, but not a fatal blow. Suddenly, as the wounded thief raises his sword to retaliate, a sharp crack resonates through the air. The kidnappers chest erupts in a gout of blood as a large caliber bullet exits his body. He dies before he even hits the ground. Lynnara gently blows the smoke from the muzzle of her pistol before pocketing it once more.
Meanwhile, Emmentian and his viper have the last man cornered. Cirrus strikes from behind, his fangs sinking into the pirate's calf, swiftly pumping deadly toxin into the man's bloodstream. Emmentian seizes the opening and with a mighty blow smashes the thief across the face, caving his skull and sending bits of teeth and brain into the water below.
Bearing witness to their companions' swift demise, the two remaining men realize they're outnumbered and dive headfirst into the water, swimming as fast as they can to the opposite shore.
'Well won gentlemen and fair lady! I suppose it was foolish of us to forget that we are ultimately in a pirate town.'
Qarxan smiles widely, then adds, 'Now let's find an inn! A safe one!'
that pretty much was what I'd set up to do.
After working the lock for a few minutes, Talic finally frees Ornerokh, who immediately rushes to Samisel's side and licks him with his wet, sticky tongue. After calming the big lizard, the party pushes deeper into the city, eventually coming across a large inn called the Mermaid Lounge. Inside, the interior is clean and well lit, with the smell of simmering seafood and garlic tantalizing the senses of the hungry party. After arranging for lodging and a meal, the party heads to their quarters to unpack and get some much needed rest.
updated my profile
"Samisel, your mount should be safe enough here. I will go speak to the owner so he is aware that we aren't all foriegners and that will help keep him more honest. Also, it might lower or negate any "insurance" we may have to pay for his safekeeping."Deston looks at the rest of his companions."As Qarxan said, well fought. It was refreshing to be in a fight where I was not alone."
Thank you, thank you all. I can't imagine what those four were planning to do with a riding chameleon. They're not that common, Ornerohk would stick out like a giant in a halfing village. I raised him myself.
"I imagine they planned to sell him," Emmentian comments, "he would likely bring a fair price from those looking for an exotic pet. But it is good that he never needed to find out."
"He is a rare specimen, in which part of Verdan did you find him?"
"Excellent spell, Qarxan. Can't say i've ever traveled with a Mage before, but know I see what i've been missing. I bet there are a lot of things we could accomplish together." Then with quick smile, Talic hurries opver to Samisel. "I've never seen an amazing creature. Can they run fast?"
'Anything we put our minds too! And may our success be continued!' Qarxan replies to Talic.
He enjoys the food, local cuisine, in an inn on the opposite side of the world from home, with new friends and companions. He remains in a good mood for the evening, laughing smiling and nodding along with the others as discussion moves from topic to topic.
Just as an aside following the conclusion of the battle, Lynnara heals Samisels wounds as needed casting her remaining slots for cure light wounds as needed.
After finishing their delicious meal and enjoying some light hearted banter, the companions decide to head to the Freemen Hall to rendezvous with Orren and hopefully get some answers from young Garret Rutledge, as well as speak with Armad, Carmella's father.
Night has now fallen on Gold-Bottom, and the city comes alive with thousands of colored lights, as the Festival party-goers dance and cavort with one another as myriad strains of merry music play in the background. By contrast, the Freemen hall is a somber and utilitarian affair; a large sturdy wooden lodge devoid of any decoration except for a plaque of beaten brass depicting their now familiar sigil.
Inside, the doors open to a large, softly lit foyer featuring a single large desk, behind which sits a pretty young woman. She looks up as the party approaches.
"Yes? May I help you?"
"We are here to speak with Garret. Tell him that Deston Praevelle is asking for him." Turning to the others Deston says with a wry smile," That ought to provoke an interesting reaction."
The secretary blinks at Deston for a moment, before nodding and rising from her chair. She disappears behind a set of massive mahogany doors at the rear of the foyer, then reappears several minutes later. "If you would, please follow me." she beckons.
She leads the party down a long, dark hallway, through a similar set of double doors, and into a spacious antechamber. In the center of the chamber, a stone fire pit smolders, crackling quietly. Several overstuffed couches of dark, soft leather are arrayed in a circle around the fire pit. Seated on the couches are five individuals. Two of the men you recognize. The first, a finely dressed nobleman with a handsome, chiseled face, you take to be the young Garrett Rutledge. The other is a near giant of a man you assume to be Armad. Though his hair is more gray than black, and his face is weathered and wrinkled, his eyes sparkle with youthful passion and ferocity. And though years of rich food and easy life have given his belly a considerable girth, you can tell by his broad shoulders and massive arms that this was once a man bred for battle, and not someone to be trifled with.
The others in the room are unfamiliar to you. Seated between Garrett and Armad is a stunningly beautiful young girl, maybe in her late teens at most. Her shimmering blonde hair frames her delicate features in ringlets of liquid gold, and her eyes dazzle like two pools of the brightest azure. A sparkling white gown hugs her lithe body, and she draws a light wrap of white silk around her shoulders as if to ward off a chill, in spite of the fire. Across from her sits an aging half-orc, his gray hair shorn close to his head. He is skinny and a bit small for his race, but he lounges on the sofa with the air of a man at ease among other great men, and the worn brown leathers he wears mark him as a man experienced in the wilds. To his right sits a plain looking dwarven woman in spectacles. She is wearing a tinkerer's apron over a simple work shirt and trousers, and is so absorbed with manipulating the tiny contraption in her hands that she does not look up as the party enters the room.
An awkward silence settles over the room as the secretary ushers you inside and then quietly slips out, closing the doors behind her. The occupants in the room regard you with unmasked trepidation, particularly Garrett, who eyes Deston cooly. No one makes any attempt to speak, and the tension in the chamber grows so thick it could be cut with a knife. Finally, Garrett stands and walks to a spot directly in front of Deston.
"Now there's a face only a mother could love." he says in a flat tone.
"Well then I guess there's nobody to love me then because you well know my mother is dead."Deston replies with equal coolness.
"Despite our falling out, Garret, I know you bore my sister and parents no ill will so, unless you are going to carry through with the threat to kill me, I would like to finally know what information you might have about that particular night."Deston casually waves towards the rest of the group."The others with me are also interested in any information regarding ORCA's new prisoner. She threw something to one of them as she was being transported through the crowd this morning."
Deston then meaningfully places his hand on the hilt of his sword as he stares down Garret.
Lynnara moves in and gently places herself between the two hostile men.
"Time and tides Master Rutledge. What brings us all together this night is of mutual importance, for the moment, of greater weight than the private feud you and Deston may share. Might I suggest you two defer any saber rattling until at least we have enlightened you and your mates to our mutual purpose tonight."
Finally unable to maintain the charade no longer, Garrett suddenly breaks into a grin, laughing out loud. "Deston, you always were too serious!" he chimes as he rushes forward and wraps the now completely bewildered swordsman in a friendly bear hug. Garett then holds his old friend at arms length. "Look, Deston, I was an impetuous child when we last spoke, and I said things I didn't mean. Forgive me. You are my dearest friend, and I must say, it is damn good to see you brother! You have been away for far too long."
He steps back for a moment, looking over the rest of the party. "Ah, forgive me, where are my manners? Allow me to make some introductions." he says as he gestures to his companions. "This gentlemen here is the great Armad Calavar, Baron of the Sea. He is the owner and proprietor of the Lucky Harlot, and our senior chairman of the guild of Freemen. Next to him is the lovely Celeste, our resident psychic and social butterfly. She keeps tabs on the noble houses here in Gold-Bottom." He then points to the half-orc lounging on the opposite sofa. "This fine fellow is Mr. Cross, our uh... handyman, so to speak. He does... well, he does a little bit of everything, and he does it extremely well. Next to him is Doris, our resident technician and engineer. Her work is genius, although her social skills leave a little to be desired." Garett clears his throat loudly, but still the small dwarven woman pays no heed, absorbed in her work, as if she is completely oblivious to the fact that others are in the room.
"Doris... DORIS!!!" His tone finally snaps her out of her revery, and she looks up in surprise at the young nobleman. "Say hello to our guests." he says.
"Oh... hi." she says with a sheepish grin. Garrett shakes his head in disbelief. Just then, two tall men dressed in dark clothing sweep swiftly into the room. They walk immediately over to Mr. Cross, and confer in quiet whispers with the half-orc, who nods curtly before dismissing the two. Garrett, seeing the puzzled looks on the faces of the party, speaks up. "I apologize for the confusion, but those two gentlemen were dispatched by Mr. Cross here to ensure that you weren't followed. Much of what we discuss tonight will be extremely sensitive information, and it is best if such information doesn't reach the wrong ears." He looks over at the weathered half-orc. "Are we good, Mr. Cross?" he asks, deferring to the ranger.
"We're good." he says quietly.
Garrett claps his hands together. "Right then. Well, before we get down to business, there is one other necessary precaution we must take. Celeste, if you would be so kind?"
The mesmerizing girl stands gracefully and approaches Deston. She smiles as she speaks, her dazzling beauty putting everyone at ease. "Do not be alarmed," she says, her voice like a birdsong, "I am simply going to look into your mind for a moment, to determine if we can trust you. It will not hurt a bit. In fact, the experience can be quite... intoxicating.". She comes to stand before Deston. "Master Praevelle, I'll need you to remove your mask. After all, there's no reason to hide such a handsome face." she says with a wink and a smile.
Deston looks back at his companions and approaches Lynnara and Qarxan. He whispers to them,
"When she finishes, could the two of you check me for any type of enchantments or whatever?"
Deston seems very nervous.
Deston unbuckles the mask that covers the left side and lower half of his face. The mass of scars is gruesome to behold. He has a perpetual death's grin where the fire has all but eradicated his lips and his left eye is a milky white from the damage.
Qarxan nods at Deston's request, keeping a close eye on the girl. She was practicing a level of magic beyond his grasp, but not so far that he didn't understand it. He'd detect whatever it was that she did.
'Just to keep my friend relaxed,' Qarxan whispers the short incantation and begins detect magic. He however keeps it active, having a look around him at the enchantements in the room as the conversation goes on.
'I'll be happy to let you peek into my mind.' Qarxan willingly forgoes his will save, to what I expect will be detect thoughts.
Talic begins to fidget nervously, trying not to recall any of the multitude of unlawful things he's done in the past. "Is this really necessary?"
Celeste, completely undeterred by the sight of Deston's hideous visage, steps in close and places her cool, delicate hands on either side of Deston's face. She closes her eyes, her nose a scant millimeter from his, so close that he can smell the fruity sweetness of her breath. After a few moments of this intimate connection, her brilliant blue eyes open and she smiles at the swordsman, placing a light kiss on his unscarred cheek.
"Welcome, friend Deston." she says warmly.
This ritual she repeats with everyone in the group, until finally she turns back to Garrett and says, "They have our trust. You may proceed."
Garrett smiles and nods. He paces a bit, as if considering his words, then begins. "You have been summoned here tonight because, whether by fate or folly, you have been privy to a series of events that have thrust you to the forefront of a conflict on the brink of consuming not only this city, but all of Oceania, and possibly the world. Celeste had warned me this very day, before Orren ever informed me of your arrival, that a change was brewing in the minds and hearts of the people here. Our mutual friend Carmella was probably more sensitive to that change than anyone else, and I do not believe that it was just by mere chance that you have come by that ring you carry. While Carmella herself is not a Freemen, she clings to our values and upholds our cause more than most in our order, and if she chose you to be her allies, then we count you as our allies as well."
He pauses for a second. "Alas, I am getting ahead of myself. You are undoubtedly confused and eager to grasp a bit of understanding as to this conflict you have been made party to. Allow me to start at the beginning." he says as he sits.
"Gold-Bottom was not always the bustling metropolis that it is now. For years, it was a haven for smugglers and murderous pirates, men who's whim acted as their only governing authority. It was a viscous society, where every man was at war with his neighbor. And thus it persisted for many years. However, great men like our friend Armad here began to question the status quo, and found that if every man began to abide by a code of basic moral ethics, the population prospered. Enemies became friends, trade improved, and a hard working man could become as wealthy as his ambitions carried him."
"So Armad and several of his colleagues, my late father among them, decided to form a loose brotherhood of powerful men dedicated to keeping the peace and promoting a fair and prosperous place to live. They enforced the rules, at times, but mostly they exemplified them, setting the example and sticking by their creed. Over time, people saw the good in them, and started imitating them. The populace began to police itself, and gross transgressors were not tolerated and run out of town, more by social and economical means than by physical punishment. Over the years, the status quo changed, and Gold-Bottom slowly grew to what it is today. That brotherhood is now known as the guild of Freemen, and you are looking at five of its most dedicated and pivotal members. We are not alone, though. Our numbers run in the neighborhood of twenty-five thousand, spread across much of Oceania, and Ember, even Skygaarde. We have ten times that number in common folk sympathetic to our cause, as well as several powerful and affluent noble houses we count as allies. Make no mistake, gentlemen and lady, we are a force to be reckoned with, and we are in the business of changing the world."
"Unfortunately," he continued, "such ambitions have gained us a great many enemies, all of them powerful, and none of them concerned with playing fairly or being diplomatic. We are at war, of that I am certain. The lack of soldiers in the streets is simply a formality that I believe will be addressed sooner rather than later."
"However, that is a discourse best left for another time, as the night grows late and we have more pressing matters to speak of, namely, why you all are here. Seeing as how Carmella had the foresight to choose you to bear her message, we five--" he glances at Armad, who wears a dour expression on his lined and weathered face. "Well, we four have decided it is you who stand the best chance of rescuing her, and thus we have a commission for you. Free Carmella from the Calypsia casino vault. You have three days, after which she will undoubtedly be relocated and our window of opportunity lost. Now, we have some ideas as to go about doing this, but you all appear very intelligent and capable, and my scouts report that you aquitted yourself very well today against some Caimarian smugglers, so I would like to hear your thoughts on this matter. You likely have a far better plan than I."
Emmentian shifts uncomfortably as Celeste peers into the minds of his companions, becoming more tense as his own turn draws closer. He relaxes somewhat as she declares his trustworthiness, but his eyes linger on her face with a slight furrow of his brow as he considers how deeply she might have pried into his personal thoughts.
"Orren mentioned the artificial reef below the Calipsia's vault," he comments once Garret has finished speaking, "and how it might be accessible from some underground watercourse. I suspect that any access to that would be through the cave network that I have heard rumours of stretching beneath the city, but finding it in that sprawl might be difficult."
The gnome looks between the others in the room briefly, then adds "a drier option might be to enter the building through the front door... though from the class of guests that frequent the place, I take it that it isn't as simple as just walking in."
"Getting in and out will be the hardest parts. With time, I'm sure i can handle any locks and surprises they have rigged. Any chance of a map of the tunnels or the inside of the casino?"
'I'll await all of your plans, but I would like to offer up the fact that I have magic to change my face, quite convincingly. Might help with subterfuge.'
From the earlier exchange. I have no magicks to seek out any charms laid upon you but I'll keep a close eye on your manner.
Now to the matter at hand
I have some magic that I can use to enable up to five of us to greatly improve our swimming for a brief time. Those could probably help another two along. Where I am short of is water breathing magics so this must be held within the space of breaths unless such potions might be obtained.
Is there any form of map or diagram of the Vault at your disposal? That and any knowledge of the disposition of guards we might have to deal with or avoid if possible.?"
"He is a rare specimen, in which part of Verdan did you find him?"
No one is sure where he came from, Emmentian. Ornerokh's egg was one of a clutch my order purchased from a trader who had never been seen before and hasn't been seen since. All the other eggs hatched perfectly normal riding lizards who bonded with other young initiates. Ornerokh's egg did not hatch with the others and I was assigned to dispose of it. For some reason, I kept the egg and, when it hatched three days later, Ornerokh and I bonded immediately. There were many among my order who felt he was too different and should be destroyed. Indeed, if my mission here does not go well, then both of us might be finished with the Order of the Dragon.
Having grown up in the trees and hills of Verdan, my skills in the water are perhaps not up to the task of swimming underwater. Perhaps I might be able to act as a diversion in the casino?
Garrett and the others listen thoughtfully to each suggestion, occasionally nodding and murmuring their agreement. At long last he speaks.
"Good, it seems that we are all thinking along the same lines. We'll need several things to pull this off, however. Mr Cross, your input?"
The lean and wiry half orc leans forward and rests his chin on his hands. "Well, a complete map of the subterranean river system under the city likely doesn't exist, but I know several trappers and fishermen who hunt the deep routes leading from Howler Cave, and I think I know of one that should lead put us somewhere near Calypsia. I'll see if I can whip together a diagram of the river system and get it ready by tomorrow. I'll tell you right now, those subterranean systems are not just your average rivers. A lot of them will be cramped, with low ceilings, and some of them don't even surface at all. We will have to go underwater quite a bit, which in and of itself is a hazard. Add in the severe undertow, which can suck you you through a rock fissure and turn your body into grated cheese, and the cavern dwelling creatures who will view you as nothing more than an easy meal, and you have a recipe for disaster if we fail to keep our wits about us. Now, I will provide the boat and personally lead the expedition, but I want to make it clear that this is a dangerous undertaking."
As he finishes, Garrett chimes back in. "The only problem is that we don't have any detailed floor plans of the Calypsia, nor do we know what kind of guard rotation they maintain at night. However, there should be a set of blueprints maintained inside the security office. Celeste can help with that. She has insinuated herself quite deeply in some of Gold-Bottom's most elite social circles, and is a regular at the Calypsia. There is a big gala tomorrow night; she should be able to get your group inside. From there you're on your own to recover the plans. Once we have those, we can iron out the finer points of the plan, including the problem of breathing underwater."
"Are there any other questions?" he asks?
"Are there any other items of importance or value in the vault that we should lookout for while we are there? It would be a shame to waste the opportunity. He smiles his devilish grin as his imagination is already running wild with thoughts of hidden treasure.
"We sould probably concentrate on getting Carmella out," Emmentian says to Talic archly, before adding in a quieter voice, "although... since we are likely to be earning their wrath anyway, it couldn't hurt to make the most of the situation."
"Have you spent much time at the Calipsia?" he asks of Celeste, "anything you might remember would be better than going in blind."
Garrett chuckles at the suggestion of theft. "Alas, though I'm sure most of the gold in that vault was acquired by less than noble means, it is not our place nor our nature to be thieves. This way, we can let it be known that Freemen stood in a vault full of treasure and walked away without touching a single coin. The common folk will appreciate that. However, such a risky undertaking certainly warrants compensation, and I am not without some financial means. Shall we say five hundred gold a piece now, with another five hundred upon the safe return of Carmella? Does this sound reasonable?"
Celeste then turns to Emmentian, her smile brilliant. "Calypsia is a beautiful place." she says excitedly. "It's a spiral tower over eight stories tall. The atrium takes up the first four floors. I believe the vault is located on the top floor, as the lower three are all gambling halls. There's a large artificial waterfall that cascades down the center of the tower, into a pool in the middle of the atrium. There's also a full service wet bar in the pool, and many of the patrons bathe and swim there. Now that I think of it, the water in the pool must filter down into the artificial reef somewhere, though I don't know where. Perhaps that could be something we look for tomorrow night at the gala!" By her tone, she seems to be more excited in socializing and partying than she is in espionage.
"So, now that we have that business taken care of, what information do you have about the night of the fire, Garret?"Deston pointedly asks.
"If you're going to tell me something about ORCA, they were the first ones I suspected. However, after a lot of effort and money, I could find absolutely no connection. In fact, there were several indicators that it was some newer group."
Garrett walks over and places a hand on the shoulder of his childhood friend.
"Tis true, ORCA was not responsible for the fires that took your family, Calypso bless them. And you are right in assuming that I have some information you seek, though honestly not as much as you'd like. I'd rather you give up this crusade of vengeance, but I know you, Deston. You're too much like your father. Quitting isn't a word in the Praevelle vocabulary."
"And so I make you an offer. You complete this task for me... you and your companions free Carmella and bring her here, and I promise you I will share with you everything I know about what happened to you and your family that night, as well as help you in any way that I can to find those murderous bastards!"
He releases his grip and looks about the room. "The hour is late. I think we've accomplished all we can this night. Return to your inn. Get some rest, because you may not get the chance again for a while. Celeste will contact you tomorrow evening to reconnoiter the casino. Until then, stay safe and out of trouble. And once again, thank you for your service. I suspect it was more than mere chance that we met tonight."
With that, Garrett stands and ushers everyone back down the hallway and into the warm night air. Though a few strains of soft music still drift on the air, the city is quiet, as by this hour most of the revelers have drunk themselves into blissful unconsciousness.
Dawn breaks, throwing shafts of soft morning light through the windows of the rooms at the Mermaid Lounge. Inside, the companions awake to a surprise - a stranger is sleeping in their midst.
Well, snoring in their midst, to be more precise.
In the common area adjoining their rooms, the party finds a young man, perhaps no more than fifteen, sprawled face down on the floor, apparently sleeping off the effects of what must have been a terrific amount of alcohol consumption. His clothing, though disheveled and smelling faintly of stale vomit, is exquisite and looks expensive. He wears a jeweled scabbard tipped in gold at his hip, though the sword it held is nowhere to be seen. Turning him over, you notice a small "P" embroidered in fancy script on his lapel, and in his pockets you find a crumpled note.
Duncan, here are the descriptions of the ones you're looking for:
A blonde child traveling with an elf
A tanned woman in a white robe
A man in a black mask (not a festival mask)
A short man with a pet snake
There may be more than that...
Hector said he's almost positive they're in the city, and said he knows because he's almost as good at scrying (whatever that is) as Mr. Black. He said that he's heard Mr. Black talk about these people all the time, so they must be important. So don't screw this up! If you find them, let me know, so I can tell Hector. I'll be down in the markets tomorrow buying a dress for the gala at the Calypsia.
Remember, don't let them see you! If you do this right, Hector thinks he can get Mr. Black to give us all our own estates up in Skygaarde! He says maybe we can get our name changed too, and not have to live under mother's rules! Plus, if you don't screw this up, then I won't tell mother what you've been doing in her room late at night!
Even after turning him over, and nudging him with several kicks, the unconscious boy does not stir, and it appears as if it will be a while before he wakes up.