Scalebound

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Montsombre wakes up well rested, and he rolls out of bed stretching widely. He then drops to the floor and begins a series of exercises consisting of push-ups, crunches, and other basic maneuvers to keep himself fit and limber. He then takes the sheets and carefully folds them back onto his bed, removing any wrinkles that form, just as his parents taught him. He dons his chainmail and straps his weapons back onto his belt, and after making sure he looks clean and presentable, he gathers his pack and heads to the bar for breakfast. As he leaves his room, he hears the noises from the main bar area, and sighs. He had hoped that he would be up early enough for a quiet breakfast, but that seemed unlikely now. As he entered the bar area, he took the same seat as he had last night, and grabbed Cheny's attention. "Morning. Might I be able to get some breakfast? And perhaps some water?"
 
Alenas wakes from his slumber, grabs the dagger he always keeps close, but hidden and puts on his clothes. While sitting close to his window, playing his lute he contemplates the series of coincidenses that led to him being here, at this moment, with the strange group of companions.

After a while he notices the noise, and makes his way to the main hall in the inn. Noticing Montsombre already up and about, he motions for food and water from Cheny.

"Good morning friend. Care to bring whatever my companion over the is having?" He walks over and sits down across Montsombre.

"Did you get a good nights rest, friend? Seems there's townsfolk is already up and about, so I guess we should start our work as soon as everyone is here."
 
Looking around the place, you notice unlike last night, there are actually a few other people working now -- a few servers spread through the room, bringing plates or refilling mugs, chatting with some of the patrons. Most of the patrons look like regular villagers, a few dressed more nicely, while there are still a few in guard uniforms spread through the room.

As the pair of you take a seat, Cheny motions for someone to serve you as he continues taking payment from another patron. A human male approaches, openly staring as he places plates in front of you both: scrambled eggs and a few strips of bacon with a wedge of bread on the side. The human brings over two mugs as well, sliding them across the bar for both of you, "That's two copper for breakfast," he adds, before leaning in closer, whispering "Are you lot here for the missing manor?"

From further down the bar, Cheny yells out, "Kalov! Don't be bothering them none, lots of others to still tend to, get to it." Kalov sighs before heading off to grab another set of plates.
 
Alenas slips six copper to Kalov before he leaves the table, giving him a quick nod and a smile.

«Breakfast on me today, Monty!»

Alenas soaks in the atmosphere, the sounds of morning conversations and smell of the inn. This is his favourite time of the day, and especially so when good breakfast is served.
 
Having woken, somewhat against her will, at the first light of dawn, Ixen spends a short while meditating alone. The hardwood floor of her room makes a poor substitute for the wild earth, but she's prepared to give up some comforts for the sake of the job. At least there's magic enough for her to draw upon, even in this town so removed from the natural world.

Once she hears movement from the neighbouring rooms, she gets herself ready and heads downstairs to find two of her companions already at a table. She joins them without a greeting, calling out "This one will have the same," to the server just as he's leaving. Apparently oblivious to Alenas's peace, she starts talking shop the moment she sits down. "What is our destination once preparations are made? The Commander's residence, or elsewhere? Soft-skins often resent lateness," she goes on, as if last night's conversation never concluded.
 
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Thisk rises early in the morning and straightens the room until he feels satisfied that there is no obvious trace of his presence. He slinks downstairs and moves in the general direction of the group's table, asking a server for "Food." along the way. He arrives in time to catch the end of Alenas' words. "We should check with the commander. Soft-skin chiefs often become aggravated if others accomplish too much work without seeking input."
 
«Yes, you are probably right, both of you. I forgot that we haven’t really spoken to our employer yet. Let’s finish our meal and then go talk to him.»

Alenas is a little embarrased that he forgot all about the commander. But then again, in his experience, the people they have talked to already are probably the ones with the best and most variable information.
 
Kalov returns with your respective plates, still quite obviously eager to ask as many questions as he can manage, though between the group's focus on their own discussion, and Cheny barking at him any time he hovers for too long, he eventually gives up. He seems to be one of the few if only that don't seem to stare with some level of hostility, instead seems pure curiosity on meeting races or peoples that are new to him.

Eventually you finish eating, payment totalling twelve copper, however you all decide to split it amongst yourselves. Exiting The Proud Canary, glancing upwards as your eyes adjust to the light, there's still clouds moving across the sky, but it doesn't look like it'll rain for now. In the morning light, there's people wandering past, most looking as though on their way to workplaces or setting up small stalls in the main plaza, hoping for customers and sales. Guards wander here and there keeping an eye on everything, finding some of the drunken stragglers that spent the night on the on the streets in the rain, a few helping merchants with moving things here and there.

Crossing the plaza, people beginning to wake up, the party makes their way back to the barracks. It's hard to tell if the guards are different from last night just from looks, since the general armor is all practically the same for each guard. Entering however, the building is much more lively -- sounds of sparring can be heard, conversation in the messhall, and a few people attempting to plead their cases, words slurred or incoherant while a guard stands near them. Once again you reach the front desk, Hilia's head visible over the edge. Hearing your approach she looks up, her smile still there.

"Hello again! You look rested and ready for the day ahead!" She motions up the stairs, "Commander Monsab got in a little while ago, he's up in his office." As you all pass she gives a small wave, "Hopefully you guys get all the information you need!"

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Entering the office, a desk can be seen near the center of the room, a male dwarf leaning over some paperwork, a small plate of breakfast to his side. Hearing the entry he glances up, a scowl visible on his face briefly before it shifts to a neutral expression. A heavy warhammer can be noted leaning against the desk, a shield on the wall behind him. He takes a bite of his breakfast -- a wedge of toast with some egg -- and wipes his hands. "So, you lot are the ones I hired, eh? I knew ya might be strikin' to look at, but this... this is somethin' else." He leans forward, looking each of you over, "I know humans might not want ta work with you lot, but," he gestures to himself, "I'm a bit more open as long as the job gets done."

Shuffling some papers, he continues: "I know the posting was a bit vague -- mostly because we still don't know much ourselves." He makes a fist, "Normally we'd have the mages take a look, but they're so damn busy apparently, they can't even spare an apprentice!" He takes a breath to steady himself, "A few days ago, the manor of Brewe Aseah, a local celebrity artist, seemed to just up and disappear. The grounds are still there -- and where the basement once was is just a hole in the ground. My men are decent, but when it comes to magic shite like this, they hardly know which end is up!"

He rubs his eyes as he sighs, "She had two servants -- one's been missing, the other is being kept under house arrest because he seems to be having a mental fit for some reason, but he's the only on who might know what happened." Leaning forward on his desk, looking over the group, "I'm offering five hundred gold if you can figure out what happened, find the manor, or find Brewe Aseah at the very least."

He waits expectantly.
 
Kadaru awoke that morning and slipped downstairs as silent as the grave. Not wanting to stir things up, as he did the night before, he remained at the edge of the group as they spoke and made plans for the day. Following his scaled companions back to the barracks, he continued his strategy for the day. Sticking to the shadows and hoping they could get on with their mission as quickly as possible. City life did not sit well with the cleric.
 
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Thisk nods along with the commander's explanation. "These scaled ones are neither clueless nor idlers. Light will soon fall on this mystery, and the missing ones' whereabouts will be known." Thisk moves partway around the desk, to stand more side-by-side with the commander. He reaches into his pack, producing a smallish scroll that he spreads over a clearer part of the desk. On it is an accurate, yet mostly empty map of the town. Only the walls, main gates and two dots for the barracks and the Proud Canary are filled in, in a low form of Draconic. "Where is the - where was the artist's house?" he asks.
 
As Thisk steps around the desk Monsab leans away slightly, unsure at first what the lizardfolk is attempting to do -- once seeing the paper he relaxes slightly. Taking a small quill from a nearby inkwell, Monsab circles a building on the map. "It used to be there. There's a few other manors and mansions along that side of the wall, the nicer district, ye ken? Lot of her customers as neighbors."

[Pink dot = Brewe Aseah's home ]
StogroveMarkers.png
 
"Thank you, this is good information. Where is this staff member being held? I think that would be a good place to start our work, and then move on to the site of the missing building, and maybe even pressing the mages a little."

Alenas tries to get a read on the commander, trying to find meaning under his words, or if he is holding back information that might be useful to the investigation.
 
"As I said, the servant's being held under house arrest," moving his finger on the map towards another district he taps it, "over here. I've got a few guards outside his door, partly to keep people out, and him from disappearing too -- hopefully."

Leaning back in his chair he shrugs, "You can try the mages, between us I doubt they'd open the door to you." Reaching across the map he points to a small building on the map near the keep, "They've holed themselves up in their Mansion." Looking around the group he adds, "I warn you, the building looks small, but they've done their ... magic-stuff, and it's a mansion on the inside. I don't know how they do it, and I don't much care. Either way, we can't force a way inside, and have to rely on them deigning to even peek through the door at us!"

He gives a grin, running his fingers through his beard, "Just don't come back as frogs instead of lizards, aye?"

[Orange dot = Servant's home | Green dot = Mansion]
StogroveMarkers.png
 
As they entered the Commander's office, Montsombre's towering form stood to one side of the door as he talked. After the important locations were marked off on Thisk's map, Montsombre just thanks the Commander curtly then moves to lead the group out the door and to the location marked off for the servant under house arrest.
 
Kadaru stares blankly at the commander after his frog statement. He could tell by the Dwarf's smile that perhaps he made what he would consider a "joke". The humor of the soft ones still eluded the lizardfolk cleric. No comment would be made by Kadaru on this for fear of prolonging what was already dreadfully long conversation.

When Montsombre excused the group and led the group out, it was a relief... even if it was just to visit another soft skin. "Does Montsombre really except answers from this servant?" Kadaru asks as he come up alongside the Dragonborn. "This one cares not for cowards. The servant likely saw little as it deserted its mistress...." He smiles to himself a little. "Servant smells of urine, I bet... would have left its tail with mistress if it had one." he says with short chuckle-like hisses.
 
Montsombre looks at Kadaru a bit distastefully. He didn’t particularly like the humans, but it was clear that the humans animosity towards the lizard folk was strongly reciprocated by Kadaru. Montsombre simply shrugged and said, “This seems to be the best place to start, but if he doesn’t have anything to say then we can move on to the land and mages instead.” He did not really acknowledge the comments about how cowardly the servant must have been, mostly because he didn’t care about the servants intentions, only what he actually did or saw.
 
As the group leaves, if any glance behind themselves, a small hand behind the desk waves.

Stepping back out onto the streets, at this point the market is starting to pick up -- a few glance your direction, but most have their attention drawn away as a merchant pushes something in their face, or pulls them in to appreciate the fine craftsmanship of an item. The damp from the night before doesn't seem to be bothering the open market very much -- and even while the clouds still claim the sky for themselves, many stalls are covered by fabrics.

Working towards the place Monsab marked as the house of the servant, the wide streets become more and more constrained -- where before you could each stand shoulder to shoulder, you're forced into being two-wide at most, sometimes only single-file as someone else comes through what are now essentually alley ways. Looking up you can see windows -- implying each building is multiple levels, however they almost seem leaning into each other, melding in a strange way.

Finally a door appears with a guard standing nearby -- though in truth they seem to be leaning against the wall. What little face can be seen seems to be one of utter boredom, until they spot your group. The guard stands straight, polearm gripped tightly, "Oh -- you, you must be the group the Commander sent for. Yep -- here to question the servant right?"

From the voice this one appears to be male, and he moves toward the door, pushing it open. Glancing inside, your various sets of eyes looking inwards, the building seems dark, a staircase almost immediately right behind the front door, while a few other doors loop around the small inner area.

"The servant lives on the third floor -- my partner is there keeping an eye on 'im. Iunno what you plan to ask, but don't expect much -- man hasn't spoken straight since the whole incident happened. Been keepin' an eye on the bloke, mostly makin' sure he don't hurt 'imself than anything else."
 
The journey to the servant's house goes without a peep from Ixen, who shrinks to the fringe of the group as the streets grow narrow. As much as she craves closeness with her tribe, she's wary of making them uncomfortable through physical contact - no matter how inviting the dragonborn's body heat might be.

Still, she reasserts herself once the guards at the door greet them. "Pleaes tell these ones what this servant has been saying," she requests, glancing up at the building's third floor. "And his name, should he have one."
 
The group begins walking up the center stairs, hearing it creak and groan under their weight, the guard calling after, "Servant's name is Lesym Payne -- but good luck getting anything coherent out of 'im!"

Working up the floors, a few eyes peek from behind barely open doors, quickly shut should any of you glance their direction. On the second floor a pair of small children are playing, but stop to watch the party pass, their eyes wide with interest. A nearby adult clicks their teeth, trying to pull their attention away.

Eventually the third floor is approached -- the whole way the building has been dark and dim, candles barely bringing any light to the inside -- what few windows are on the front wall are dirty and dingy, sunlight finding it difficult to pass through. Another guard sits outside a doorway, a stool beneath them as they spin their polearm in their hand, attempting to kill time. Hearing the group approach, they quickly stand to attention. Seeming to understand why the party is there, they open the door slowly, motioning for everyone to enter.

As the group manages to squeeze into the room, a faint muttering can be heard as the guard speaks, "So ... I assume you're here to talk to Payne." Underneath the armor it seems this guard is female. "I don't honestly know how much you'll get out of him -- he's been a little ... off since Brewe's manor disappeared." Motioning towards a back room, she continues: "Constantly he's just muttering under his breath, I don't even know how he's got any voice left at this point. Barely eats, barely moves -- he probably sleeps at some point?" She pauses as she looks over each member of the party, "Just ... be gentle with him alright? I don't know your methods, but Payne is a good person. I feel like he just got dragged into the wrong things..."
 
«Don’t you worry, we will do no harm to this man. He has probably suffered enough already. Have you caught anything at all of what he is saying?» Alenas says to the female guard with a reassuring smile.

«Might be best if only one of us goes in, so we don’t scare the man more than need be. I can do that, if everyone is OK with that?»

He talks to the group quietly, so the servant doesn’t hear the conversation.
 
The guard leans against a wall, her armor clanking slightly. "Just ... from what I can tell? Seems to be a repeat of the different color inks and paints he used to go to the market to buy for his master. Sometimes he mentions brushes and small pots, but not very often." She shrugs, "I really wish I knew how to deal with this, but ... not really what we're trained for."
 
Montsombre followed Alenas and the rest of the group up the stairs, attempting to keep his head down and seem as unintimidating as possible to the multitudes of people watching. He was partially successful, although it was hard for a seven foot tall armor clad black dragonborn to be unintimidating. When they entered the room, Montsombre listened to the guard's brief report intently, as well as Alenas' suggestion. "I agree, we should approach this with great care. You should go in and talk to him, see what he knows and perhaps figure out what is causing him to have his mind addled so. We can wait outside if you need us." And Montsombre leans his shoulder back against one of the walls and waited for Alenas to get some answers from the man.
 
Alenas hands his weapons over to Montsombre, takes out his flute in one hand and walks into the room. Both hands visible, he slowly walks into the room where Lesym is. He tries to take notice of the state of the man as he enters, as well as the room, to see if there is anything he can use to get the man to talk.

"Hello Mr. Payne. Do not be startled, I am only here to talk with you. Is everything alright?"

Alenas tries to talk with a soothing and calm voice, doing no sudden movements and not making any loud sounds that could startle the man.
 
Payne himself is walking around the room, constantly adjusting things, under his breath he's constantly cycling through colors, prices of inks, of brushes, a river of words -- overwhelming only because the rest of the world seems to have gone so quiet. He's wearing a well-fitting black vest, longsleeved, with white gloves on his hands. His leggings are black as well, with dark leather shoes on his feet.

As you enter, Payne glances over to you, a brief pause in the stream of words, then quickly moves to you, straightening your clothes, rearranging things to fit however he feels it should be. His grey eyes seem glazed over, barely even registering anything, his short white hair framing his face. Eventually he finishes to his own satisfaction and begins pacing the room again, gently moving something here, adjusting there.
 
«Thank you, sir.»

Alenas says, not moving while Payne straightens his clothes. He does however, when Payne turns around, do small adjustments on his clothes again, seeing if Payne reacts in any way.

«Do you mind if I sit down?» He asks with a soft voice.
 
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