Ailuros hisses at the intruder.

Bartimaeus looks at the tiefling and says nothing.

But to every mind nearby, save the dwarf and tiefling, Bartimaeus reaches out with urgency:

---

OOC:

23:20, Yesterday: Bartimaeus rolled 13 using 1d20-1.  Str save.

In reply to Bartimaeus (msg # 34):
You catch the door before it slams into you and hold it firm as the intruder attempts to barge through. Despite the intimidating display, you quickly put two and two together. Sharp as the cane may be, it isn’t just a weapon; it’s clearly something the tiefling needs in order to stay standing. Without it propping him up, there’s virtually no force he can put behind his attempt to force you back.

This man is clearly not in any shape to be fighting hand to hand.

Nonetheless, as you attempt to call out you see his eyes flare with pale violet flames, the tongues of fire trailing from the sides of his eye sockets as his voice comes once more. This time, however, his lips don’t move.

You feel dizzy for a moment as sense a strange force closing in around your mind. Sealing you in, almost. It’s oppressive. Suffocating. Yet it’s not your body it seems to be effecting, but your thoughts themselves. You immediately think back to that moment above the abyss out in the harbor and realize how similar this new sensation feels to drowning.

From somewhere behind you, hear the sounds of someone rifling through your belongings. A small voice speaks up behind you; reluctant, almost timid, and very young. “No others. Looks like it’s just him in here.”

The tiefling man nods. And waves his cane at you, motioning toward the bed. “Take a seat, boy. You and I are gonna have a little chat...”

---

03:38, Today: GM, for the NPC Ale, rolled 0 using 1d20-3 ((3)).
...whelp, probably should have seen that coming...
This message was last edited by the GM at 07:50, Fri 02 Oct 2020.

His consciousness assaulted, Bartimaeus nevertheless held the door firm against the tiefling."If you had asked to come in, I would have said yes."

He pulled the door open and motioned for the intruder to come in. Bartimaeus closed the door after he'd entered, walked to the fireplace, grabbed his vestments, and pulled them over his head. Indicating the chair opposite, Bartimaeus sat down at the table.

"How may this servant of the Lord of Knowledge help you?"

In reply to Bartimaeus (msg # 36):

“I feel like I ain’t making myself clear right now. You’re in no position to be acting all put upon. Because believe me, we can make this FAR more inconvenient for you if you’d prefer, so don’t get too comfortable.“ He begins slowly making his way across the room toward you, leaning heavily on the cane with each step. You notice he has a significant limp to his right leg whenever he moves. Again fixing you with that same, burning violet stare, he points two black-clawed fingers in your direction. “Now you’re gonna sit right there and keep your mouth shut. I hear one hint of a scream cross those lips, I’ll shut em for good. You try to resist this, and I’ll take what I’m looking for by force. You ken?”

His stare intensifies and you can see hints of that same violet flame trailing off the corners of his eye sockets once more. A second later there is a splitting pain in the back of your head. You’ve felt something like this once before. It’s the feeling of someone or something trying to enter your mind. To rummage around in your memories. It’s not a pleasant feeling, by any means.

As he concentrates, however, the other figure comes back over to him. You see now it is a small, green-skinned tiefling girl in a long cloak and hood. She tugs on one side of his duster as he focuses on you, prompting him to look her way a moment. Never fully taking his eyes off you, he crouches down so she can whisper something in his ear. The pressure on your mind fades.

After a few moments of hesitation, the man lets out an aggravated sigh. “...I.... apologize. I suspect I may be being a bit too... hasty here. You fit the description of some folks I’m lookin’ for. Fit it real, REAL closely. Disturbingly so... but... I suspect you may just be in the wrong place at the wrong time... That sound about right to you?”

He takes a seat where you indicated; sitting with some significant effort. “So instead of doing this by the books, we’re gonna try something a little unorthodox... I’m going to ask you a question. You’re going to answer honestly. And only then, if I don’t like the answer, are we going to go back to poring through your mind for it... sound fair?”

Bartimaeus reels from his mind being intruded upon and breathes heavily with sunken head and his hands palm-down on the table as the intruder talks.

"Fairness?" He half-laughs-half-coughs and looks up. "Fairness has nothing to do with this trespass. You are either righteous in your vengeful pursuit, or venial in unwarranted persecution. You must proceed to discover what you are, and must do so independent of my opinion on the matter."

He sits up with a deep but rattling breath and composes himself.

"What is your question?"

In reply to Bartimaeus (msg # 38):

He ignores your words for the most part, not giving any sign that he even heard you speak. Eventually, the question comes clear enough. Yet it holds precious little meaning for you. “What do you know of the Court of Eye? Where are they operating from? How many are there? I would hear everything you know of them.”

The little tiefling is beside him once more. Silently, she passes him a book that you quickly realize was one of your own; something from the College that you’d kept amongst your possessions. It seems likely the girl was rifling through your belongings while the man held your attention. The man looks down at it and raises an eyebrow. The girl simply looks up at him, her large blood-red eyes set and unblinking. When she speaks, it is in a small voice completely devoid of the accent and anger of her older companion. “I don’t think he’s one of them.”
This message was last edited by the GM at 18:58, Fri 02 Oct 2020.

"The 'Court of Eye'? I know of nothing by that name."

---

OOC:
Which book of mine?

In reply to Bartimaeus (msg # 40):

The little tiefling is holding Darker Than Night and the older one is now giving you a skeptical look. “Nothin’ at all? So, by your account, you’re just some random pilgrim come here without any knowledge of the Court, despite their striking resemblance to your own ways? A suspicious seeker of knowledge this far out of the way of the typical Tenebrian universities and archives. This is just one big coincidence? You’ll have to forgive me if I don’t exactly buy that as the full story...”

He takes the novel from the girl. Over the course of a few minutes, he gives the book a quick look over, clear scanning for any signs of notes or additions that may have been made to it. Putting it aside, he returns his attention to you. “Decent taste in literature, if nothing else... Alright, so let’s say I take you at face value here. What ARE you in town for? No one just happens across Tideswallow simply to take in the sights. You’re after something. And whether you know it or not, I’d wager the Court’s waiting somewhere along whatever path you’re on.”

"I said I know nothing by that name. Names define and constrain... there are things in this universe that transcend all constraints and are necessarily nameless... but among named things names set expectations and reputations, not all of which we want published, hmmm? Describe this Court and I might be better able help you.

"As for being out of the way of Tenebrian archives, that is precisely how archives are created: scholars go to where the knowledge is so that it may be brought back and catalogued. And it was in those archives... so much time spent there... that I found whispered hints of ... potential. In this city. My experience here so far makes me sanguine I was right to come.

"I am not a pilgrim; pilgrims seek places and geography is irrelevant. I am a scholar and lay brother of the Lord of Knowledge, yes. Possibly you think I seek answers? No. The presumptuous seek answers. I am seeking the question. If the Court becomes part of that search, then so be it."

In reply to Bartimaeus (msg # 42):

“And if the Court should choose to aid you in this search, you’d accept it?” He fixes you with a scrutinizing glare.

“No need to talk to me how archives come to be. I’ve seem plenty rise and fall in my time. The question here is why Tideswallow would interest you. Ain’t nothing here but darkness and cults. Cults like the Court. Who just happen to serve an entity eerily similar to this Lord of Knowledge of yours. They’re taking it to an extreme I’d like to believe a fella as... indiscrete as you wouldn’t dare venture toward. But worse things have been done in the name of knowledge before.” 

He stands, though whether to leave or to attack you still aren’t sure. “Word of advice. You run into more folks like yourself, steer clear of em. Folks around here tend not to go asking tough questions unless they mean to do something right nasty with the answers...”

Bartimaeus stayed seated when the tiefling rose.

"What has Nethan Rothfield become?"

In reply to Bartimaeus (msg # 44):

He raises an eyebrow, clearly taken off guard by the question. “Not... entirely sure I follow your meaning there. That supposed to be some sort of riddle? If you’re talkin’ about the composer, I’d imagine the answer’d be ‘dust’ or ‘a corpse’ by this point. Fella disappeared almost two centuries ago. Works are still popular enough, I suppose. If that’s your sort of thing... Anyway... you’re clearly not in a good headspace for all this right now.”

He opens Darker Than Night and runs a claw across the first page before closing it back up and tossing it onto the table. “Keep in mind what I told you. Anyone else here like you is most likely working for the Court; whether they know it yet or not. Don’t trust em. And if you happen to uncover any leads on it... well... keep me posted.” He turns toward the door and begins to walk out.“Mel, we’re going.”

The little green tiefling follows him obediently.

Bartimaeus remained seated, but before the diminutive tiefling exited the door, he sent:


Not waiting to see if the man stopped to listen, he spoke aloud.

"You see the difficulty that puts me in. Your ambiguity is damaging your stated intent by inhibiting my ability to discriminate between choices. I mentioned Rothfield for a reason. Maybe he is a lead to the Court you say you desire of me. Maybe he is not. You don't know, do you? Nor can I know without data and clarity, and you offer neither."

Bartimaeus rose and took the tankard, dropping a few pellets of dried tea leaves within, and walked out the door.

"I have no cup but this; perhaps Mel could fetch us two others and we may discuss the relevance of orchestral composition. I would enjoy it, and the company. But because you have found reason to trust me - or, at least enough reason to doubt your distrust - we would begin with your act of faith: opening yourself and your knowledge to me."

He filled his tankard with hot water.

"Do you take yours with lemon and honey, Mr. ...?"

---

OOC:

11:40, Today: Bartimaeus rolled 7 using 1d20+2.  Persuasion, Stay for Tea.
Ugh, brutal.

In reply to Bartimaeus (msg # 46):

There is a moment where you’re confident he didn’t even hear you as he goes to open the door. Then, with a heavy sigh, he slowly turns back around. “Trust is putting it a bit above its pay grade, but sure. Lack of distrust. That’s closer to accurate.”

The little tiefling passes him a purple bag she’d had tied to her belt. From it, pulls out a pair Of simple tin cups; each with a single rune engraved at the bottom of the. He slowly makes his way back over to the table with Mel following close beside. “I mistook you for one of that, for that I apologize. But the fact that you’re here at all, looking for answers to some question or other, means that you’re going to fall into their sights sooner or later. They might come to you as a seemingly helping hand, or they might simply come through and abduct you in the middle of the night while you’re guard’s down. Either way, it wasn’t without good reason that I paid you this little visit... you’re far, FAR too open about who and what you are.”

“Now, I ain’t seeing where you’re going with this talk of composers and orchestras; but suffice to say you seem like you’re hopelessly lost in whatever it is. So... for the time being, let’s just say that this here’s a bit of neutral ground. Not a trust. Just a talk. A parlay... a palaver, let’s say.”Sitting down at the table, he pushes Darker Than Night aside to set the cups down before you. “Lemon’ll be just fine. And the name’s Verse.
This message was last edited by the GM at 17:22, Sat 03 Oct 2020.

Bartimaeus drew his dagger from its sheath on his belt where it hung and cut slices of lemon.

"Verse. Pleased to meet you. I am Brother Bartimaeus." He nodded to the girl. "Mel, how do you do."

He placed a handful of tea leaves in their cups and his own, poured hot water from the teapot in each, distributed the lemons, and offered honey to Mel.

"I am being far too open about who and what I am. Very well: who and what am I?

"You oppose the 'Court of Eye'. Very well. Who and what is it?

"I doubt you act alone. Therefore you are an agent. Very well. Though I hardly expect your answer immediately - we lack trust; perhaps we'll get there - but symmetry demands: who and what are they?

"Let us start there, then we can turn to Rothfield."

In reply to Bartimaeus (msg # 48):

The solid violet orbs of his eyes make it difficult to know exactly where he’s looking at any given time. However, you’re confident you’re holding his attention. “What you are is obvious. For starters, a learned man. Something folks aren’t going to look to kindly on around here when you lord if over them with the way you speak. People are gonna think you’re trying to show off when you bash them over the head with your vocabulary. As for who you are, well that’s even more blatant. You’re a warlock. I won’t pretend to be particularly familiar with this Lord of Knowledge you claim to serve, Oghma’s worshipped by only a precious few where I’m from, but I know a bit... and that ain’t the sort of source one draws powers from like yours. I don’t doubt what you serve is similar to Oghma, in that it craves knowledge, but it ain’t some widely-worshipped god you can throw a clergyman’s robes on to show to the world...”

He sips at the tea. Following his lead, Mel does the same with hers. “As for the Court of Eyes, they’re far more up front about their worship. They serve an entity from the Far Realms who craves knowledge above all else. And they’re more than willing to commit atrocities beyond counting in order to satiate its hunger. I know they operate out of this city, it’s they home, their ancestral home. But any more info than that is... difficult to come by, I’ve found.”

He chuckles at your final point. “Now see, if ya hadn’t tried broadcasting that little warning of your’s to the whole of the Waterfront, we could have gone and pretended I was just another concerned citizen; trying to keep some out-of-towner from getting mixed up with the wrong crowd.... but you and I both know that ain’t the case now. So for the time being, let’s just say I’m a historian and an adversary of the Court. And leave it at that.”

OOC:

I don't suppose the specific reference to a Great Old One from the Far Realms would ping something for me, would it?

15:08, Today: Bartimaeus rolled 18 using 1d20+5.  Know (Religion), Worshippers of Eyes.
15:08, Today: Bartimaeus rolled 18 using 1d20+5.  Know (Arcana), Far Realm Eyes.

I mean, "a being craving knowledge with lots of eyes" sure sounds like it could be my patron Yog-Sothoth, except that so far as I, the player, knows, YS is omniscient... he already has the information.

"You offer good advice; I will henceforth endeavor to restrain habituated sesquipedalian verbosity." Bartimaeus winked and smiled. "But I did not, as you say, 'throw these robes on'. I am an oathtaken lay brother-scholar of Oghma. Truly. And the power imbued within me, though not of a kind with the clerical caste, is divine in origin. Shall we presume to constrain the possible avenues of deities? No. Though you are correct that the aspect of divinity residing within me is not the familiar clerical aspect."

He sipped his tea.

"But it heartens me, and should comfort you, that Whom I Serve does not crave knowledge; He is knowledge. One only craves what one lacks, mmm? ... Perhaps..." Bartimaeus reached over and withdrew his notebook containing the notes from the room. "Perhaps good faith will receive its own in return: a historian maintains his own catalog, doesn't he?"

He opened the book. "Cravings, you say? I have certainly encountered the cravings of others. See here:

  On the Bard College:                      “We hunger eternal, my craving not sated.”
  On the building in the Roe:               “Feed us and have your way forward ungated.”
  On the first building in the Town Square: “A snake craves a rat as a bird craves a worm.”
  On the second:                            “But my craving’s a privilege you have not earned.”
  In the Harbor:                            “So come now and feed me, and set yourself free.”
  On the Reef:                              “Only one taste of knowledge alone holds the key.”

"This poem was inlaid in mosaic on the floor of a study in the Bardic College, a guide for those trapped within the room's enchantment. It belonged to, I believe, Nethan Rothfield. I believe it still belongs to Nethan Rothfield, for a voice spoke to us when we attempted solutions to the puzzle.

"Yes, I say 'we'. And yes, the other is, like me, a warlock. He alleged to possess a room there when we met. He is hasty. He compacted with an Imp with little hesitation. He declined to respond why he desired entrance to that particular study. He called himself Vesryn, and like me emerged from the harbor when we passed through the puzzle's portal some few hours ago. I expected him to follow me in to this tavern, though he has not.

"Why Nethan Rothfield? Because music averts mortality; because he spoke of 'adding verses' when he blasted the souls of his victims." Bartimaeus accented the tiefling's name with a raised eyebrow. "Because he seeks to preserve and annul the passage of time. Because Rothfield left his life's work incomplete. And because he regrets the loss of his regret over the death of the woman he loved in life."

He closed and withdrew his notebook.

"Tell me, Verse, you who caution against openness: should we not be more than non-distrustful?"

He follows your words, without adding his own to the mix as you go. Just listening. Contemplating the meaning of what you are saying. Trying to picture some of what you describe. There’s no registering of your jab at his name as you emphasize it.



“That‘s... a lot to take in... a lot to process... You’ve been in the city how long, exactly? And already stumbled ass over tea kettle into something like this?”Slowly, carefully, he reaches into a holster on his belt just below the table. He withdraws a large grimoire of steel-bound leather with a round, violet gem on the face. The pages within are mismatched, containing numerous pieces of parchment that clearly did not originate within it. Various markers and small strips indicate specific pages for quick access. It is a type of book you are all too familiar with from your own time gathering secrets. A book of shadows, as some have come to call it. “Secrets... things best left where they lie.”

“Some belonging to others, like this Rothfield of yours. Others clearly still your own, hidden even from you...”He holds it out over the table a moment, then lets it fall.

“A patron who claims to be knowledge itself...Landing on the table, there is a THUD so resounding that the entire room shakes from it. The legs of the table wobble, nearly buckling under the weight of the tome. “...But with still so much left to uncover.”

He lets the room settle a bit before continuing. “Trust is all well and good. But as you’ll come to understand in time, I’m sure, there can be little of it between those of us who serve. We may work together from time to time, sure. But any lasting companionship should be left on the doorstep. Once you cross that threshold, trust becomes something of a liability.”

---

With those rolls, you would certainly be aware that eyes in general tend to have a great deal of importance when dealing with aberrations. Beholders, aboleths, all manner of unknowable creatures from outside your small corner of reality... but you would have heard rumors of things far beyond that. Things which make typical aberrations seem almost mundane and knowable by comparison. Amongst these, you would have heard only the faintest whispers of beings known simply as Elder Evils. Hadar is the only one whose proper name you would know, and even then you have been led to believe it is merely an approximation of a name the entity’s followers might call it in Common; not a true name. Others exist as well, but their specifics are even more obscure than that of Hadar. Your knowledge of Yog-Sothoth would point to a similarity, but not a sameness. As you said, “he” is omniscient, where as the entity Verse is describing is clearly gathering knowledge for itself. Or its followers are gathering knowledge for it.
This message was last edited by the GM at 04:26, Sun 04 Oct 2020.

Bartimaeus regards his book, then him, and nods. "Then we shall distrust each other enough to independently verify our discoveries. Satisfied?"

He points out the six locations indicated on the verse.

"These places I thought to examine first. The Bard College is, I believe, scrutinized. Or rather, additional scrutiny will come later. The harbor and reef can wait until I grow a set of gills, haha. Judging from our entrance in the college and exit from the room in the harbor, these locations are likely wayponts, but pregnant with deductive potential. That leaves the Roe and two in the Town Square: are you familiar with the buildings in these locations?"

Pausing a moment. "And there is the matter of the paladin. Allegedly left to succumb to her wounds in the sewers of the waterfront, or recover if she could. If she recovered, perhaps you've heard the story? If she did not... she lies there still.

"You've seemed somewhat intent on dissuading me from my course; I'm pleased you're content to advise discretion. In return, I'll consider your advice on where I shall proceed."

In reply to Bartimaeus (msg # 53):

He thinks on it a bit. “Nothing good comes out of the Roe, in what expereince I have with it... so might be worth a shot. That said, if this thing you’re talking about undid an entire adventuring party and tossed the paladin aside like she was nothing, it probably ain’t something you want to go messing with alone. Scout it out if you gotta, but know when to run.”

He shakes his head in  response to the buildings in the Town Square. “Can’t say as I’m particularly familiar. The Court’s my business. And I get the feeling whatever this is you’re following, it ain’t involved; at least not directly. Nothing of the Square’s come up in my investigations yet. Seems pretty devoid of any... outside influences. Might be places Rothfield once held some sort of sway or places he trusted to still be standing all these years later, if you’re hunch of this being his work is right.”

"Verse, thank you. I believe I will begin by heading to look through the Tideswallow city records; I think a map of the main sewers might be of assistance, if only to avoid stumbling into the Roe."

Bartimaeus stood. "I am pleased this interview ended with far less acrimony than it began. I hope future encounters are as productive." He indicated the horn hanging from its cord on the dresser. "By sounding that horn I can alert a particular individual: a long sustained blast indicates looking for you; three consecutive blasts that I require assistance. I hope if you hear it you won't be too overcautious in responding."

He walked to the door and put his hand on the knob without opening it. "The kitchen provided refreshing soup; I think I should remain retired for the rest of the evening, but another bowl may do me well. Is there anything else before we part? If not, good evening to you. Mel, delighted."

---

OOC:
B is not trying to be abrupt, but polite; I feel like the interview is drawing to a close.

I'll be staying in for the evening after having dinner, again soup and bread. I'll spend the long night reading the Drow history. I reckon I'll head out come daylight, so up to you if something happens over the night or if we FF to morning.

In reply to Bartimaeus (msg # 55):

He nods. “Town’s got a couple ‘archives’ so just be ready to get the run around if you’re looking for something they don’t want found. My advice would be to find a way into the Office District. Lady Shadesworn, the Master of Lore & History on the city council, runs the official Archives out of that area. Far more complete than the public ones in the Town Square.”

He eyes the horn suspiciously, but says nothing on the matter, adding only “We’ll be around...”

Rising once more to leave, he and Mel both head toward the door. His pace is slow, but steady. Finally, as he exits your room to leave you to a night of relative relaxation, he tosses a small black orb over his shoulder. It lands on the table, rolls a bit from the momentum, then stops abruptly, much sooner than it should have. “If it’s the sewers you’re lookin to go poking around in, best to get the kobolds on your side first. They ain’t big fans of intruders. That’s their domain down there. Best to show some proper respect to em when you go.”

And with that he and the little green tiefling leave. You are alone with your thoughts once more and can proceed however you see fit from here.

Bartimaeus allowed Verse to leave before walking over to the table to examine the black marble on the table. He gave it a mostly cursory examination for a minute or two. Once he thought enough time had passed to allow Verse and Mel to depart, he descended to the bar and ordered another meal. Taking Verse's advice, he said little besides ordering and thanking the staff.

Once upstairs again, he gave his blessing and ate.

Having finished, he placed the used plates and silverware on the floor outside his door and filled his tankard with hot water, allowing fresh tea leaves to steep in the piping-hot liquid.

First thing: Mel had been rummaging through his belongings. He needed to see if anything was missing and did so.

Second thing: He then organized his thoughts on how to proceed.

• The dungeon explorer. Let's call her Mistress. Her intents may be revealed over time in the concealed pages. Perhaps her status could be discerned via divination.
• The locations in the Square and in the Roe. Those may be visited during daylight hours just to see what sort of activity goes on in them that is plain to the casual observer.
• The public archives in the Square. Verse told me not to spend much time on them; likely better to get a scrip from them saying I was looking for materials found only in the Office District. Should visit a tailor for proper attire when seeking an audience with Lady Shadesworn.
• Kobolds? Perhaps the orb will assist. At least Draconic is naturally within my capacity. They could assist with the paladin, since it seems likely they'd have run into her.
• The Court of Eye. A beholder-god perhaps? Something to keep a nose out for. Shouldn't be hard if Verse thinks they're open about it.
• An observatory. Something about that mosaic in the College. Something was there. But it was an enchanter's design so could well have been nothing at all.
• Copies of those books found in the College. Would be best to be better armed if that puzzle, or something like it, is found again.
• Both the harbor and the reef are tied into Rothfield's transportation network. Being able to survive underwater would be necessary.
• Drow language. Might want to pick up a grammar.

Third: properly examine Verse's orb. [Cast Identify, ritual]

Final thing: the pages written in invisible ink recovered from the College. He had exhausted his day's complement of spells, but using his Pearl of Power he restored to himself a spell slot and cast Invisibility to reveal the contents of the page. Also review the Tiny Hut half-scroll.

Once those organizational details were arranged, he refilled his tankard for another mug of tea and tucked into the Drow history for the rest of the night.

---

OOC:
I think that's everything? Lol, this game is going to require serious scratch pad use.

Going back through the your belongings, you find the majority of it is right where it should be. Clearly shuffled around a bit by a pair of tiny hands, but still where it belongs. The only thing missing is Darker than Night which now rests on the table, and some of the small baubles you came across in the College. Specifically, the 4 gold coins with the strange faces on them and the whittled stick that seemed to be the beginning of a wand. These you can’t seem to find no matter how much searching you do...


The orb appears to be nothing more than a large black glass marble. It rolls easily in the palm of your hand. As you proceed to cast Identify on it, you find that it does bear a simple enchantment upon it: a transmutation spell you are unfamiliar with. The effect appears to be similar to petrifaction. Flesh to stone, or in this case, crystal. You suddenly realize what you are holding is a crystallized eye, and it appears to function as a casting focus; a catalyst for virtually any type of magic to be case through or bound to. This one has a single spell bound to it already: Programmed Illusion... the trigger for which you can’t seem to determine.


The pages end up being a series of reports. Missives written to a “Master” occasionally referred to as “Valendeir” on some pages. A few of the pages simple report on various aspects of the waterfront’s shipping that she seems to think he will be interested in. Amongst the various economic intricacies which are almost totally lost on you, you note a brief manifest of various items she has specified are leaving on specific ships. It appears they intended to hit this once they were outside of Tideswallow’s bay. The shipments in question, however, are fairly mundane things overall. Corn. Cotton. Sulphur. A small shipment of wrought pig iron, too unrefined for making blades from. A boat carrying exclusively wood and charcoal which appears to have departed almost four months ago. A strange shipment of what appears to be just crate after crate of dirt and manure. And one circled shipment of what seems to be an entire boatload of shale, flint, and cracked marble, all too badly damaged to be worthwhile for building.

Beyond this, the notes go on to briefly touch upon the writer’s time in the city. A search for an easy access into the sewers is mentioned, though not elaborated upon. A simple contract which has been fulfilled and awaits renegotiating is brought up, but left vague. Everything about the writing style seems focused on giving as little information in as many words as possible, as though the writer was desperately trying to make up for a lack of discoveries during her time in Tideswallow.... all except for the second to last page.

This one seems to confirm your suspicions when it brings up the name Rothfield in several spots. The writer appears to have been chasing an artifact the old conductor once favored. Something her disappeared with when he vanished from his home in Twinpier some two hundred years ago. She managed to make progress following a subtle trail he left leading all the way from that north-western metropolis, all the way down to Tideswallow. It appears Rothfield likely faked his death in Twinpier, traveled in secret to the south, and began work on something unknown here in town under some assumed name. You find little else of use besides that, however...

After reading through all of this, you are fairly confident these were written by Milthrix’s mistress.
This message was last edited by the GM at 04:19, Wed 07 Oct 2020.