Sietnyas:
"Is 'we' just you and Mol?" Sietnyas asked. "Or something bigger?" he looks around, trying to figure out what sort of place the girl had led them to. "Right now we're just looking for a certain inn. The Bell Book and Candle. It should be not too far, maybe nearby."
Gre nods, not surprised. "Yes, Mol thought you might be looking for that. Well, unless any of you have a way to see magical writing, or you trust someone who does, I'm afraid you're out of luck. It's an arcanist establishment, and they don't want just anyone stumbling in."
Sietnyas:
"Do a lot of people come by here? There might be a thing you could do for me. I'm looking for a stone. Not valuable, just a stone. Fits in the hand, with shape so and so..." he tries to gesture with his hands, scratching it on some nearby surface if need be. "Very, very hard. Smooth, lots of scratches here and here... very plain, I think, to humans. But a very nice yatikk color to kobolds, and a few other underground folk. I would like to know if you see it, or hear of it."
Gre takes this in, nodding. "Alright. I've heard stranger requests. I'll be on the lookout."
Frug is the only member of the group that can readily make out markings placed and hidden by magical, but his is quickly able to discern the existence of them, for the magical advertisements abound on surfaces throughout the district. Apparently, there are several establishments that cater to those with magical ability and they apprear to be in competition with each other for clientele. Sigils and marks overlay each other, some even appearing to fight each other for dominance. In other places, the marks appear to have been mostly removed, sometimes by the direct destruction of the underlying surface, usually with what appears to have been the application of elemental energies.
But, the Bell, Book and Candle either has a team dedicated to keeping its advertisements up, or it has earned the respect of the others, for Frug is able to lead the party almost directly to the entrace of the magic tavern - or what should be. Instead, it's garbage midden, in the back of an ally, at the end of a row of increasingly unappealing inns and taverns. It's no where anyone with a working olfactory sense would like to hang around for any length of time.
It's also heavily watched, Frug notices. He can't make out their exact locations, but he can tell that there are at least three magical eyes in the viscinity. This serves to explain why, after a moment or two, Inquisitive Crivens teleports into the alley.
"Ah, there you are. I knew you'd make it before too long." He looks around. "And it appears that you were able to shake your tail. Don't worry, they'll soon be back. So, let's go in, shall we?" He gestures to the thickest, dirtiest part of the midden, which the party notices isn't quite as odoriferous or visibly distinct as it had been. Crivens looks apologetic about the illusion. "Keeps out the higher-class riff-raff."
The inside of the Bell, Book and Tavern is one of the most cramped spaces anyone in the party has ever visited in Sharn, including the sewers. "The 'owners' don't really own the property," calls Crivens from the back of the line, as the party moves down a hallway whose panelling the dragonborn can just barely avoid scratching, "and a smaller space is easier for the club members to keep hidden and secret. Oh, not that we're doing anything here we shouldn't. Not any moreso than most folk.
Suddenly, the eladrin appears at the front of the party. "This ought to do," he says indicating a small side room, just basely big enough for the party. There's a handful of stools of various sizes and sturdinesses, and a small table. Once everyone has been crammed in and drinks requested from a hazy disturbance in the air, Crivens says "So, you're interested in taking the fight to the Emerald Claw. You're clearly not without talents, but what makes you think you won't simply become a tragic story in the chronicles?"
Status:
Party seated in a small room in the Bell, Book and Candle.
Light provided by various magical sources.
There are other beings around, in various side rooms. They appear tolerant of Criven's non-magical guests.