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It was not long before Kerr and Liseth made their appearance at the Rusty Dragon, and the reunited group was able to let some of the cares afflicting them slough away in the presence of good company, good food, and good drink.  In the midst of the meal, none other than Ser Jasper Korvaski appeared, informing the party that he had booked passage for them aboard the trading ship Sunfish, currently berthed at Sandpoint Harbor and scheduled to sail for Magnimar with the morning tide.

Kerr, for his part, was relieved to hear that they would be traveling by ship to the south, rather than trekking down the notoriously bandit-infested Lost Coast Road.

That evening, Kellan wrote a heartfelt letter to Shayliss, telling her of their plans, that he missed her, and that he looked forward to seeing the redhead upon his return.  Kerr returned to the Sandpoint Cathedral to inform Ser Klerris of their impending journey.   The paladin encouraged him to visit the Temple of Iomedae in the Naos district, and gave his young charge a sealed letter to deliver to Chaplain Tira Ronnova, the prelate.  Ser Klerris cautioned Kerr to remain true to himself, for temptations and distractions abounded in Magnimar.

Brodert Quink made an appearance later that evening outside Cato’s room, the old sage clutching a bundle of papers, journals, and scrolls to his chest.  He requested that Cato deliver the gathered materials to Heidmarch Manor.  Lord and Lady Heidmarch, Brodert informed his erstwhile assistant, were both notable members of the Pathfinder Society and two of his few patrons when he had worked at the Founder’s Archive in Magnimar.  He believed that the Heidmarches would be able to help him with the publishing of his findings from the catacombs below Sandpoint and ensure that the acclaim for them are not stolen by other ambitious academics in the city.

Brodert also encouraged Cato to visit the Lady of Blessed Waters, a monument in Seerspring Park, and to see the Aquaretum nearby.  He went on to praise the plain, homespun Dead Eye Lodge immediately adjacent to the park.

Pisca was eventually left chatting with Ameiko, only to be surprised by the appearance of a blushing Vesnutt Parooh, who nervously inquired about her impending departure.  The mapmaker revealed that he wished to present a “parting gift” to Pisca in the hopes of encouraging her return.  This gift turned out to be a rather artistic map of Varisia, depicting many of the legendary beasts reputed to lair in the wilds of the land. Though the map was not particularly detailed, it did show all of the major Varisian caravan routes, including distances. The gnome shyly confessed that this way Pisca “will always be able to find her way back to Sandpoint.”

Early the next morning, the group made their way to Sandpoint Harbor, boarding the waiting Sunfish, which they found to be captained by Sir Appeldine Gentry, a formal but friendly former Andoran naval officer. The overnight voyage was uneventful, if pleasant.  A school of dolphins escorted the ship a short way down the coast before the noonday sun became too searing.  That night, the shipmates watched a towering thunderstorm as it made its way across the outer gulf.  From such a great distance, the intense lighting and thunder were inspiring rather than intimidating, but not a few prayers of thanks were uttered for their current clear sailing.

The ship sailed into Magnimar in early afternoon the next day, easing past the towering columns of the Irespan, and navigating slowly past the red barges marking tumbled stones from the ancient bridge resting in the shallow port.  Cato explained that the stones from the Irespan were valued in the construction of golems, but that early excavation on the bridge itself released evil, man-sized spiders from chambers hidden within the span, putting an immediate end to the practice.

Now aspiring golem-makers used only already-fallen stones.

Then the Sunfish docked, and the Saviors disembarked in the city of Magnimar.  The first thing they saw were the masses of people teeming over the ships and along the piers.  Countless wagons crossed the road, taking goods and even livestock to and from the ships.  The clamor of the place was so loud it was difficult to differentiate one noise from another, and the yelling of sailors and longshoreman struggling to make themselves heard only added to the din.  Ship’s bells clanged loudly to signal their crews or stevedores, and armored members of what looked to be the City Guard strolled down the main dockside avenue in watchful pairs.  Urchins stood watchfully or darted through the streets, intent on missions of their own.

The dock was absolutely bustling.  The place was so alive; there was always something different going on and there was always something different to draw one’s attention away from looking at the thing that you were currently looking at, and then another thing, and then another, world of fantastical sights without end.

And somewhere out there, beyond the milling dock folk or even among them, waited the Brotherhood.

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This message was last edited by the GM at 16:34, Tue 22 Aug 2017.

Cato stared at the crowds of people as the Sunfish pulled into the dock.  It had been a long, long time since he had been in this city, and even though he had come to think of Sandpoint as home, both despite of and because of all he had faced while he was there, he still missed the bustling city life.  The steady drum of commerce, the thrum of excitement, of art, culture, and learning.  Which reminded Cato of the things he had been unable to do in Sandpoint.  He looked to the others.

"Well, we're here in Magnimar.  There are some minor preparations to accomplish and some items we would all like to track down.  I suppose we should do that before we move on to investigating the Foxglove townhouse?"

"I have a letter of introduction," explained the gnome without explaining much of anything at all.  This she said from behind the legs of Lysa's boyfriend as she peered around him, back in the direction of the ship.  Her sharp violet eyes scanned the wharf, but saw no signs.  No dorsal fins cut the timber planks.  No hungry maw of jagged teeth made its way through the seething forest of legs with lashes of its powerful tail.

"I think we're safe," Pisca sighed with obvious relief.  "We made it all this way without encountering any gnome-eating sharks."  She straightened from her wary crouch and took one last look about herself for good measure.  "I was worried."

"I have a letter of introduction," she repeated.  "To a halfling.  One Arwick Tosscobble."  A smile broke out on her face and she seemed very largely her old self again, the voyage through gnome-eating shark infested waters now in the mists of the forgotten past.  "He can get us things.  Or so I'm told."

Kellan stepped off the boarding plank of the Sunfish with a look of mild shock upon his bucolic features. He had never really been outside of Sandpoint, and that much was clear as he seemed to struggle to take in the sheer size and chaos of the big city, stepping onto the docks cautiously and just seeming to take it all in.

Not only did he seem out of place, he looked it, his corn fed musculature, healthy glow and earnest smile all standing at odds with the vast majority of hustling city dwellers.

Seeming a little self-conscious in his Sandpoint tabbard, he nodded in agreement with Cato.  "Yeah...I should probably buy some things too. I wonder how much they charge here?" He voiced allowed as he fell into step, looking for signs and heading towards anything resembling a marketplace.

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Kerr through his travel pack over one shoulder and put his other arm around Liseth.  “Well, we have a lot to do.  Should we set up somewhere first?  Find a base of operations?”  He ran his fingers through his hair, then grinned.  “But isn’t this great?”  He waved his arm around the docks, then pointed at one of the larger buildings in the distance.  “Incredible that people can build things like this.  It’s so . . . big!”

The sea of people surged around the group as they stood on the dock, taking in the sights and discussing what to do.  With their baggage and indecision, they certainly looked the part of visitors.  Suddenly Kellan felt a tug on his tunic.

“Mister?”  The guardsman looked down to see a young boy, maybe 11, staring up at him.  The kid looked every inch the urchin, with mismatched, torn clothing in various shades of brown and a face that probably hadn’t been clean in months.

“Hey mister!”  The boy smiled, putting his hands on his hips.  His voice somehow seemed to pierce the surrounding din, although he wasn’t yelling.  “Do ya and yar friends needa guide?  I ken all o’ Mag, can keep ya from th’ bad parts and show ya the good ‘uns.”  He saw Kerr’s hesitance.  “And I’m no wit’ no thievin’ crew neither.  I’m Mac,” he jerked his thumbs toward himself.  “That’s me!”  His grin was infectious.  “And erryone kens Mac won’t steer ya wrong.  I can show ya the good inns what won’t cheat ya, an’ take ya ta th’ upright traders.”

He held out his hand.  “Whaddya think?  Five silvers a day!”

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While Sandpoint was not big enough to have problems like homeless children, Kellan had always heard stories. It was one thing to hear that these kinds of things happened, but another to see it in person.

He raised an eyebrow in a playful kind of way. "Well that depends Mac, how do we know that you're not just going to run off with our coin mm?" He asked in turn. "Suppose we ask one of the guards around here at the docks? What'd you think they'd say?"

Hoping for a sense motive attempt

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"Scoot wit' yar silver?"  Mac looked outraged.  "Ain't ne'er done nothin' like that, an' ne'er will!  Ask th' shinies if ya want."  He puffed out his chest.  "They'll tell ya Mac's th' top guide in Mag, true factual.  I got a upright rep; erryone kens it.  Na gonna trash it fer a few coin."  He pointed down the street where a pair of Magnimar Guard watched a group of dockhands secure a large cargo ship.  "Go ask 'em."

OOC:  Kellan, you don't sense that he's lying to you.

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This message was last edited by the player at 22:00, Mon 28 Aug 2017.

"Just checking, just checking" Kellan replied with a chuckle as he got a measure of the boy. "Do you know a...what was it again Pisca? an Arsenick...Toss...cobble?" he looked back to the wee entrepreneur "We were told to meet her apparently...a halfling we're told"

"Arwick ... "  The gnome corrected through strains of distraction.  She seemed very interested in their would-be guide, eying him with great scrutiny.  "Tosscobble ... " she continued.  "And I'm pretty sure he's a he," she also added, indicating that she must have been paying at least some attention to what Kellan was saying.

"You ... are a human," Pisca then said, dragging the encounter along a different tangent.  She pushed her examination further then, walking a circle about the creature to get the benefit of all angles.  "How did you manage to stay Right-sized?"

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“Do I ken Arwick?”  Mac looked back and forth between the adults to see if they might be putting him on.  “Course I do.  He’s shopped up at th’ Bazaar.”  The urchin peered up at Kellan.  “An’ yeah, he’s a halfie.”

Mac suddenly noticed Pisca prowling around him as if he were some sort of very curious zoo exhibit.  The gnome seemed to put him slightly off his game, and after a couple of seconds of awkward silence—well, as silent as things got given the din at the docks—the young man apparently decided to just ignore her.

“Ya reck me ta take ya to Arwick direct?”  Mac focused his attention on Kellan.  “Or ya fave an inn for the startin’, then th’ Bazaar?  Can set ya up bothways.”  He held out his hand again, grinning.  “Just five silvers.”

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This message was last edited by the player at 17:56, Tue 29 Aug 2017.

Cato watched the interaction between the orphan, Kellan and Pisca with amusement.  The wizard had forgotten what dire poverty looked like.  In some ways, Sandpoint really was an idyllic rural paradise...minus the goblins, zombies, and ageless evil outsiders conspiring to kill the place.  Here in Magnimar, the crushing despair of human poverty could be on full display...and easy to adapt or ignore.

Despite knowing the city relatively well, Cato decided their hiring of a guide could help provide a flimsy excuse for cover.  Perhaps the Hellknights wouldn't think of him needing the help of a guide like this.

"Yes, a decent inn, then the Bazaar.  I'd also like to see Heidmarch Manor, if you please."

"You know ... "  Pisca dropped her question, seeming to forget it entirely.  With a step and a step and a step she executed a tight but lazy circle, taking in a three hundred and sixty degree view of the docks around them.  " ... we don't have boats in Kaer Maga, but this reminds me of the place where the Storval Stairs reaches the top of the Rise," said the gnome in a musing to herself sort of voice.  "Lots of people.  Showing up in the city after a long voyage.  Some new to Kaer Maga."

"How about two silver," she then countered, very much out of the blue.  Her tight lazy circle happened then to finish its arc, bringing her around to face the miniature human.  "Two now with four more coming at the end if we're satisfied with your work."  The gnome's strawberry blonde head took a cant to one side that said, 'Hmm?  What do you think of that?'  And she added, "A total of six not five."

BTW, in the tight lazy circle, Pisca is looking for signs of other people plying a trade similar to Mac's.

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"Heidmarch Manor?"  Mac seemed impressed.  "Ya got crusty chums in Mag at the hop!  Whaddya need me for?"  He looked around.  "No carriage?"  The side of his mouth quirked up as he looked at Cato.  "Yeah, I can get ya there.  But shinies don't like poor folk dirtin' up the Alabaster, so I'll need some vouchin'.  Ya do that, then sure."

Mac's eyes narrowed as Pisca proposed her alternative method of payment.  "I been rooked before, halfie.  But ya pay me three now an' four later, we can do that.  Tha' divvies up th' chances; ya risk three, me two."

He switched his gaze back to Cato.  "I ken a good inn in th' Lowcleft.  Simple Lord runs it, so ya won't get rooked.  He's upright folk.  Not too crusty, but no dump neither.  Just th' kinda place," he ran his eyes over the group, "yar kinda folk might reck."

OOC:  The docks are very crowded and you are very short, so you don't have a great view.  You can't see anyone doing precisely what Mac is doing but your line of sight is effectively 10 feet with all the people going by.  You have seen a couple of urchin-looking kids dodging through the crowds but you don't know what they're up to.

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This message was last edited by the player at 19:35, Fri 01 Sept 2017.

A frown creased the normally peach smooth skin between Pisca's brows.  It dimpled her cheeks at the corners of her mouth with clear disapproval.  She raised a finger as though to exclaim, but instead, she shook her head and began pacing back and forth taking two or three steps before wheeling back around - the outward manifestation of an inner debate.

Finally, she stopped and shook her head, the Naysayers within her head having won out at last.  "You, my Correctly-Sized human, should learn the difference between a halfling and a gnome," is all she said.  The she turned and headed off into the forest of scissoring legs, striking out on her own, and, more than likely, going in the most completely wrong direction.

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“Same thing, far as I ken,” Mac shrugged as Kerr counted out three silver pieces and handed them over to the party's new guide.   The urchin quickly secured the coins somewhere on his person, then frowned as Pisca started forging off through the crowd.  “Na that way.  This 'un!”  He motioned for the group to follow him.

“Bazaar o’ Sails's in Dockway, but ya don’t want ta head there with all yar stuff.”  Mac commented as he dodged around a rough-looking sailor.  The docks continued to bustle with activity as ships bearing travelers and cargo vied for dock space; the calls of fishing eagles flying overhead only added to the din.

The young urchin led them down the dockfront street past several salt-blasted storefronts, then turned right onto a large avenue.  Both streets were cobblestoned, and it seemed as if the City Watch kept a close eye on things; the group saw pairs of guards patrolling or simply observing at regular intervals.  One guard waved at Mac; Mac waved back.

After walking for ten minutes or so things changed; the businesses the group walked past changed from mercantile, import, or other trade-related establishments into small playhouses, pubs, higher-class brothels, hookah bars, dance halls, and a variety of other entertainment venues.  But this new district seemed surprisingly empty for all that.  Very few other people strolled the streets; the difference between this area and the docks could hardly have been more stark.  Thick-looking curtains hung over most windows they passed.

“Th' Rubble’s where folk come ta have fun,” Mac informed them as he waved a small arm at a particularly nice-looking brothel.  “Even crusty folk go divin' down here."  He grinned.  "Rubblers sleep during th' day, work't night.  So if yar lookin’ ta avoid attention,” he shot Pisca a glance, “goin’ and comin’ at night’s th' best.”

With that, he stopped and looked up at a sign hanging from a stone building on the left.  The sign pictured a longsword before an anvil, with dark red lettering helpfully proclaiming “The Sword and Anvil.”

“Sword n’ Anvil’s yar best bet here'n Lowcleft,” Mac informed them.  “Gustav pays th' Gallowed, so yar won’t havta worry 'bout anyone rookin’ your stuff.  No 'un crosses th' Gallowed.  Nice place, too.”

The door opened into a public room that reminded the party of The Rusty Dragon back in Sandpoint, with walls, tables, and chairs all made of polished wood.  Various well-cared-for weapons hung from the walls; it seemed to be the inn’s primary decorating motif.  Any one of them looked as if they might be taken off the wall and used at a moment's notice.

The group seemed to be the inn’s only customers.  A lean man, dressed in a pristine white shirt and black pants, worked behind the bar.  Another much-larger man sat at one of the tables, pouring over some documents.  He looked up as the party entered, then smiled.  “Mac!  Good t’ see you, boy.  Who have you brought me today?”

“Travelers, Gustav.  They’ve Mag business and I told ‘em yar inn was th' best.  No thievin’.”

The large man laughed.  “He tells the truth, my friends.  And I pay a pretty penny for that privilege.  So, what will it be?  Meals?  Rooms?  Or both?”

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This message was last edited by the player at 07:21, Tue 05 Sept 2017.

"Well met Gustav, we'll have both if you please...we've come some way" Kellan offered the man a gloved hand to shake and looked around at the interior of the establishment. The young man just looked plain...different from most of the city dwellers they had passed. More robust, healthier, better teeth...even his skin and hair seemed to glow in comparison. But it also gave him something of a naive look, doe eyed and bucolic...a farm boy wide eyed at the big city.

"Never seen a place like this, kind of a half-boarding house, half armory...it's interesting" he smiled and looked at a few of the most impressive pieces.

Pisca drifted lonely as a cloud, on feet that took her 'cross the floor.  Twixt marshal halls and arms braced walls, on which she'd grace with floral scrawls.

"Daffodils," the gnome muttered quietly to herself, and she then nodded.  "Definitely daffodils."

Pisca looked up and away from the interior decorations of her mind to fix the large table-bound proprietor of the Sword n' Anvil with her large enquiring violet eyes.  "You used to be a blacksmith?" she said, and though her statement was indeed a question, it endeavored greatly to present itself as a statement despite being a question.

Cato felt himself drawing into a shell as they journeyed to the inn.  After so long spent away from the bigger cities of Varisia, the mage felt like the Hellknights would come pounding after him as soon as he set foot in town.  The fact that it hadn't happened yet only seemed to confirm to the wizard that the threat was imminent.  So, after his request to the orphan-guide, Cato had stayed silent, eyeing every alleyway and doorway they passed for evidence of his imagined pursuers.  In the relative safety of the inn, Cato relaxed a little, finally standing up straighter and managing to smile.

He nodded in affirmation of Kellan's request.  "Yes, rooms and food.  We could use both."

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“Some way, eh?”  Gustav roused his considerable bulk from where he had been sitting and walked over to shake Kellan’s hand.  Or perhaps crushed his hand was a better way to put it.  Man had a grip.   “So, where are you all from?  You sound Varisian,” the big man rubbed his chin thoughtfully, “but not Korvosan.”  He eyed Kellan.  “Somewhere along the coast, then?”

The innkeeper was of a size with Kellan, if broader in the shoulder and in the belly.  He had the look of a man who had once been in very good shape and was only now—with sedentary work and good food—running to fat.

“You like it?”  The innkeeper looked up fondly at some of the weapons.  “They’re min . . . yes, I’m a blacksmith.  Or used to be.”  He gave a hearty laugh as Pisca ventured her observation.  “Is it that obvious?  But yes, these are all my work.  They make excellent décor, if I do say so myself.”  He winked at the gnome.  “Keeps the brawls to a minimum.

“But rooms and food it is.  How many do you need?”

“Two, I think,” Kerr replied, glancing at his companions for confirmation.  “That is, if you can fit the three of us,” he indicated himself, Kellan, and Cato, “in one.”

Gustav nodded.  “That I can.”  He looked the party over.  “For the two rooms I have in mind, it will be five gold a night,” Kerr blanched slightly, “for the group of you.  Another two if you take meals here, but you can decide that on a day-by-day basis.”  He raised his eyebrows.  “15 silver to eat today, since you’ve already missed breakfast.  Agreed?”

Kerr looked around for objections, then nodded mutely, stunned at the cost of living in Magnimar.  The group had gold and gems in their packs for purchases in Magnimar, but at this rate their lodging would put a not-insignificant dent in those funds.  He counted out six gold pieces and five silver pieces and handed them over to the innkeeper.

“Give me a moment.”  He left through a door next to the bar and came back not a couple of moments later, bearing two copper keys.  “You’re in rooms five and seven, down at the end of the hallway.  You can stow your gear while we get a late lunch ready for you.  It’s close to third bell, so I don’t have anything hot, but what I do have should be filling for whatever you need to do this afternoon.  Dinner’s served until midnight—The Rubble stays up late—but if you get in after that we’ll keep some leftovers for you.”

Kerr thanked the innkeeper and the group went upstairs to inspect their rooms.  On their way up they passed a room of baths, radiating heat and steam.  A haughty-looking woman occupied one of the porcelain tubs; her harried-looking servant rushed to close the door as the group passed by.

Room seven, at the very end of the hallway, was larger, with four beds, while room five was a smaller version with two.  The hallway also contained—at regular intervals--well-ventilated smaller rooms containing chamber pots.

The rooms themselves were very well-appointed, with polished-wood desks and chairs, linens and quilted comforters on the bed, and a vanity mirror.  Colorful rugs adored the hardwood floors and each room contained a masterful painting of some arboreal paradise.

“Nice.”  Kerr commented as he tossed his bag on the floor.  "Maybe this is worth the money after all.  But seven gold a night?"  He shook his head ruefully.  "So expensive!"

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This message was last edited by the GM at 02:47, Fri 08 Sept 2017.