Shadows of Dust

[Charm Caster]

Diplomacy check:

Again because it didnt work in my post. Add 7 to the end result too.

(1d20)[10]

[Qualia]

Tieran

Surveying the scene, and knowing that he got on better with books than people, the archivist searched the walls, examing the grafetti that is often carved into the walls. His eyes also fell across the tables, searching for inscriptions there as well.

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Decipher Script (1d20+10)[17]

[Zrinfael]

Paine:
The barmaid flashes you a nervous and apprehensive smile while the barkeep gives you an exasperated look. "Thankee m'lady, though I don' be mil'tary materiel m'self." She fidgets with her rag "I hae'nt seen master Makri-mi drinkin here in a good few days. Have yah talked to little Miss Atari? I don' think she be likin' him, but he been takin a shine to her I hear. She us'lly stays near 'er poppa's herb shop down south o' town."

Tieran:
The tables are caked with scum and crud, there's not much to see there unless you feel inclined to give the barmaid a hand and clean off the tops of the things. Though, you have a suspicion that if you did clean the tables off, it'd be the first time the tops of the tables have seen clean air in years. The writing on the walls that you can read covers everything from declarations of eternal love to 'watch out, the eyes are everywhere'. Nothing jumps out at you in particular, nor do you see Makrenii's name on the walls.

Crystal:
You don't notice anything of real interest, you see a young rat, maybe a three months old scurry out a small crack in the floor, grab a tidbit of some forgotten crust, then scurry back down to whatever is below the bar. The two in the corner are speaking in tones too hushed for you to make out specifically what they're saying, though you think the gist of the conversation is a business transaction.

[Qualia]

Tieran

Tieran makes his way over to the two men on the far side of the bar. He nods his head in greeting.

"Morning. I wonder if either of you two gentleman can help us find Harold Makrenay. There may be a reward for information which leads us to him."

[GimliFett]

Regy d'Velderan

Bored, Regy wanders around the common room, keeping an ear on the conversation between Alistair and the 'keeper, but looking for anything unusual in the room: symbols carved on stone or wood or other odd occurrences.

[Zrinfael]

Regy: The floor creaks loudly as you walk around the room, avoiding dark slick spots of unsavory liquids. There are a great many scratches in the tables, chairs, and woodwork, some you might be inclined to call carvings were you in an extremely generous mood. The vast majority are horribly crude, and all seem to be phallic or sexual in some other way.

Tieran: As you approach one of the men takes a small object wrapped in cloth from the table and draws it into his robes. That man then turns to you, he is covered from head to toe in dark tattered cloth, his head and face also covered but for a slit to see his eyes. The flesh on the bridge of his nose is the palest white you've ever seen skin be, and bits of it seem to be flaking off, his eyes are green, but the whites are riddled with red veins. He addresses you in a voice that sounds as though he gargles with glass every evening. "Good morning mister inquisitor, I'm afraid I don't know any Makrenay, Harold or otherwise. I'm not but a traveling peddler of wares, though if you're in the market for trinkets I am certain I have something that would interest you." He takes a small pouch that jingles slightly and places it on the table, then withdraws a heavily gloved hand to his robes.
The other man takes the small pouch quickly, opens it, and looks into it for a few moments, snaps the strings shut and pockets it with a sour look on his face. He is lean to the point of being gaunt, a large sharp nose is the predominant feature of his face. Brown beady eyes dart around the room glancing over each of the people in your group. He speaks with a sneer "Whassamatter? Someone din't find yer light? Din't do enuff kissin on yer bum? I don gotta answer you." At that he stands and begins to make his way to the door, being sure to bump roughly into you as he passes.

[Nerd-o-rama]

Alistair, meanwhile, asks the barman for some more information. "Yes, actually, Makrenii has apparently left the service of the Church, but we still have a few questions for him. Aside from your nephew and any other knights, did you ever see Makrenii associating with anyone here? Anyone suspicious, or unexpectedly friendly to him?"

((Basic Diplomacy check, +0 conditional mods I believe.

Diplomacy (1d20 8=14)))

[Qualia]

Tieran

Tieran turns to stare after the man who barged into him, then turns back to the man dressed in rags and takes the recently vacated seat and pulls out a cigarette and flint. He pops the cigarette in his mouth and lights it with the flint. "I've got my light right here." He inhales deeply then breathes out the pale blue smoke. "Well if you are nought but a simple peddlar of wares, perhaps you can help me. I'm in the market for a small box, something secure, iron maybe with perhaps some gilded silver for decoration. Do you have anything that could help me there?"

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Watch his eyes for any flicker of recognition

[Zrinfael]

Alistair - "Went 'n flew coop uh? I can't say's I'm surprised, boy was no good from the git-go. I don' recollect none bein' over friendly like wit' him, but I do know 'es been pesterin' poor lil' miss Atah-ria on account o' her da' stormin' in 'ere from time ter time. Past 'at I dun know if 'ee did much o' anythin'. Sides drinkin up on mah boy's tab." He suddenly looks serious "Act'ully, 'ee been sayin tha church were good fer payin it, an' a bonus fer bein' an upstandin cit-e-zen an' all. I don't wager there be any truth to that?"

Tieran - The merchant stares hard at you for a moment or two, reading as much into your eyes as you do his own, he slowly raises a gloved finger and scratches his veiled chin. Suddenly he stands with a flourish, nearly knocking over his chair "Yes, my good inquisitor! I have what you desire! I know precisely what you seek, and we shall find it at Yssale Longroad's Colorful Caravan of Clunky but Cute Curiosities! Simply accompany me to the Colorful Caravan of Clunky but Cute Curiosities and we shall choose for you the perfect form of your item sought made real! He then tilts his head slightly to the side, standing by the table, clearly waiting to see if you intend to stand and follow him.


Edited to make it past the forum's filter. What's another word for tilt in the sentence "He then tilts his head slightly to the side."

Also, as an aside, I misspell words and names on purpose when they're being spoken in an attempt to illustrate, via phonetics, an accent. Just so we're all on the same page about Makrenii vs Makrenay

[Qualia]

Tieran

Tieran smiles at the news, and stands up himself. He gestures for the merchant to lead the way, turning his head to Regy. "My friend here may have the box I've been looking for. Why don't you lend us your expert eye?" As they reach the door, Tieran motions for Crystal to join them as well.

[Nerd-o-rama]

Alistair considers. "You're going to have to talk to your nephew again about his tab," he says, "But here's something for your trouble." He hands the barman two gold pieces.

He walks over to Paine and asks if she's found out anything interesting, keeping an eye on Tieran's group as they leave. He's curious in that regard too, but is just savvy enough to know that there was probably a reason Tieran didn't beckon to one of the armored, official-looking knights.

[kpenguin]

Alarich

Alarich has been standing near the door all the while. The wizard disliked bars and the smell of inebriated drunks. He disliked alchohol in general. Sober for all of his life, he disliked anything that could cloud his senses.

If a simple drink could confuse his mind, what hope would he have against a conniving demon?

Noticing Tieran heading towards the door, Alarich grabs the opportunity to leave.

"If I might join you, Tieran? I need a bit of fresh air."

((I've been having trouble thinking of something for Alarich to do. I mean, I guess I could help interviews, but I'm out of Detect Thoughts scrolls and I think Charm Person would be a little heavy-handed))

[Zrinfael]

The robed and hooded figure you can only guess is Yssale Longroad takes you through winding back-ally and across market streets just setting up their daily wares. The morning mists rapidly burning away under the sun's warm gaze, you arrive at wagon covered in garishly bright and mish-mashed colors. Yellow-greens rubbing up against bright pinks, the top canvas looks as though a rainbow had descended upon the wagon. The nearly unbearable bright colors make Yssale's drab tattered robes seem horribly out of place.
"Welcome, welcome customers and friends! Here is where we shall find what it is you seek. I am Yssale Longroad, master of procurement of the valuable and invaluable!" Glancing over the knicknacks hanging from every available hook and nail his words seem... exaggerated. For the most part they seem worthless, old, and poorly organized.
"A box you said! Yes, I remember!" He touches gloved fingertips to hooded temples and looks intently at Tieran "A box of strongest iron with silver gilding most delicate. An important item, to be sure! Oh yes" His eyes narrow to slits "Hmmmmm YES! Yssale knows it!" He throws up his arms then quickly turns and rummages through his cart for a minute or two. He pulls up a small iron box with little hearts stamped into the iron. Delicate elven script scrawled in silver across the sides. Though you cannot read the entire thing, it looks at a glance to be a love poem, a very raunchy love poem. "This is what you seek? If it is or not, you are free to browse Yssale's wares inquisitors, it is Yssale's honor to do business with you."

While Yssale and his wagon seem ordinary enough, something here feels off, the ally is too quiet, and aside from yourselves and Yssale, there is nary a soul to be seen.

[Mantid]

Crystal

Spotting Tieran's signal, the large warforged makes her way over to the door and out to the trader's wagon.

Crystal glances around checking her surroundings before leaning forward to examine the box. "Not what I expected," she comments with some confusion. "But I suppose it could be embarrassing if it was written by an official of the Thane... Perhaps this is the wrong box. Where did you find this item? Perhaps Sir Makrenay grabbed the wrong box by mistake."

[Qualia]

Tieran

Tieran asks to examine the box. "It's not quiet what I had in mind, but it may suffice. How much do you want for it?" His eyes are darting around the wagon, searching for any sign that Yssale may worship the Mockery.

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Search (1d20+7)[11]

"You know, I'm always interested in the history of an item, do you know anything about this box or any previous owners?"

[Zrinfael]

Yssale brushes some imaginary dust off the box, then hands it over. "The key is in a small compartment built into the bottom." You get the feeling Yssale is smiling under his mask "I'm always pleased to meet a fellow historian. That box once belonged to a young elf nobleman in Sharn. The poor fellow was in an awful hurry to dispose of it, I am rather fortunate he happened to be possessed of the desire as I was walking by."

Yssale closes his eyes and nods, almost to himself "He had commissioned it for a young lass who had seduced him to bring shame to his family. While they were never caught in the act, the young nobleman did see fit to remove any incriminating evidence." Yssale's eyes open up and look over you all, he waggles a finger in the air "I'm afraid you'll not find the name of either elf in or on the box. Though, for the right price, everything is for sale."

He pulls from his tattered robes the small bag he had taken from the table in the bar. "As for price, I am open to negotiation. I will take coin for that, though honestly, I prefer barter. I am a collector of sorts, I find value where there seems to be little, and I do enjoy having trinkets with stories. Take this, for example." He opens the bag and pulls out a crude symbol made of twisted iron sticks melted together at odd angles. While crude, it is clearly a symbol of the Dark Six.

"I am sure you know what this is inquisitors, not terribly well made, or valuable in itself, but it has stayed here, spitting distance from the very home of the silver flame. That grants this little trinket a value all its own no?" Yssale looks sideways at the lot of you.

There are religious symbols of all sorts strewn about the cart, all of them would be Yssale's wares though, none of them seem to enjoy a particularly elevated position.

[Qualia]

Tieran

The hairs go up on the back of Tieran's neck as he sees the symbol of the Dark Six. "What a curious collection you have here Yssale, enough to interest the High Inquisitor himself." Tieran examines Yssale's wares, paying particular attention to the box and Dark Six symbol.

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Knowledge Religion (1d20+8)[13]
Knowledge Arcana [roll]1d20+8[/roll
Knowledge Planes (1d20+8)[15]

[Qualia]

Doh

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Knowledge Arcana (1d20+8)[28]

[Mantid]

Crystal

The warforged turns to study the assortment of religious icons scattered around the small trade stop. "It is indeed a collection," she agrees. "I wish I had something from my own fate to offer. Unfortunately, my shoulder bares the only religious symbol I carry. I wish for once that I made more permanent... 'dolls', I believe I've heard non-godforged call them, to offer as part of a trade. We godforged make them as part of our meditations, shaping them as our contemplations on the Becoming God guides us. Unforutnately I am told I shape mine out of ectoplasm, making them only temporary items."