Aerin shrugged, perhaps the one who had told her about the Iron Dragon was a little senile herself. Coming to think of it, had it been real or had it been a dream? She shook her head, not clearly remembering anymore. She looked at the golden-scaled armor on her hands and arms, she was sure that was not imagined. "Have you ever heard of a golden dragon named Guldaeraesinya, also called Goldie? Respectively do you have information on a black dragon called 'Velvet'?" the dragonkin asked.

Minsker Halbar could offer Aerin no more than a fine selection of grimoires and tomes on dragon-kind, such as One Sage's Wyrmbook by Maskalandur Narlur. Goldie's small entry told Aerin no more than she knew already, of the great and heroic golden dragon. Of Velvet, neither the Wyrmbook nor the wizard knew anything.

But Tanshiver Brynleaf, knowledgeable in the folklore of the Dragon Reach lands, was able to tell Aerin something more about both dragons. Of Goldie, much she already knew, but there were new stories of a clash with the red wyrm Halarglautha Firewings over a century ago, of her routing and devouring an orc horde in the mountains before they could ever threaten human settlements, and another of her discouraging Zhentish forces from marching south to harass the Vast. The minstrel Lieshann was singing that Goldie had a secret underground kingdom beneath the mysterious Mage's Tower on the edge of the Flooded Forest, north of here beyond the mountains, but Tanshiver counselled them never to believe a word she said.

Tanshiver put on some loud magically made music before he spoke of the black dragon who called himself Velvet. Throstulgrael, as he was known to dragons, was known to dwell deep in the Flooded Forest. Ambitious and arrogant as only the young could be, he was feuding with an elder green called Malachite, desiring her territory. It was not something to get between. Both were supported by Dragon Cult cells, who fortunately squandered their resources struggling against each other.

After briefly peering out the window and behind the door, Tanshiver explained that Velvet's Cult cell was based in or near Calaunt, that it was small but organised and united. Recently, known agents had collected many mercenaries and criminals (hence the current relative quietude in the city) and journeyed north into the Flooded Forest for some unknown purpose.

The adventurers knew how this had ended, of course, having smashed the Cult operations in the ruins in that swamp. They must have missed Velvet by days or hours. At some point, they would surely have to go back.

Still, Tanshiver warned that the Cult hadn't abandoned its activities in Calaunt, and still had members about with a hand or claw in local crime and intrigues. Whether that included missing scions, who could say?

Tanshiver "the Bard" Brynleaf knew a surprisingly amount about such nefarious factions for a common sage.

*

As they loitered outside Moistly Antiques, another shopkeeper, closing for the evening, called out to them. 'Oi, if you're looking for Old Mot, you might be outta luck. I ain't seen him in days.'
This message was last edited by the GM at 08:34, Sun 24 Dec 2017.

 "Oh? Do you happen to know to whom he last spoke?" Tseran asks, more or less automatically as he turns from investigating the store as best he's able through a grimy window (which is to say not well at all) in order to engage the passer-by - the question of why the Elf might want to talk with the missing shopkeep rather ably answered by the hefty book already tucked under one arm (and being intermittently referred to whenever the adventuring side of the party becomes involved in something).

The shopkeeper frowned, thought a while, but shook his head. 'No, but I know he must've made a bundle on a sale. An old document of some sort. He paid off his debts to the landlord and never came back the next day. I think he's said good riddance to the place.' He eyed Tseran with speculation. 'Why, you interested in taking over?'

 There's a definite moment in which Tseran looks tempted, properly tempted to take up the position... Only for a sight of the city beyond to catch his eye, swiftly reminding him that Calaunt is a place that would have to spend years cleaning up its act in order to aspire to be the armpit of the Vast. Reality thus reasserting itself, he shakes his head in a small way before explaining "Not at all, but I had hoped to discuss a purchase with the gentleman. Did he dwell above the store or maintain a home nearby, do you happen to know?"

'Above. He had no family.' He pointed upward; the building was of old grey stone, sturdy but unlovely. The first storey, looming a little over the ground, had shuttered windows. The space would be enough for a small apartment.

The shopkeeper looking meaningfully toward his own store. 'You're not in the market for fine leather goods, are you? New belts, shoes, pouches?'

"Of the enchanted kind, mayhaps?" Aerin asked hopefully.

 Tseran has the social grace of a turtle but there's nothing wrong with his survival instincts and as he's considering the merits of making a small purchase, "Perhaps a book bag..?" and Aerith chips in he's quick to chuckle - awkwardly - as though she were making a joke and insert "Or perhaps you have a quest that needs undertaking? Isn't that how it works in places like the Dales?"

 Magic items being, y'know, deeply restricted and stolen by mobs of bully boys around here.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:53, Wed 27 Dec 2017.

Orophear stood by quietly as Aerin spoke with the shop owner. At the question of leather goods the elf said with a warm smile,"An adventurer can never have too many pouches to house their goods. Let us see what you have."

The shopkeeper led the team to his store next door, smiling and shaking his head at Tseran's question. 'Well, if it's a quest you want, you could always go up to the tanneries and see what's holding up supply. Maybe they need some fresh piss?' Such an adventure was clearly not going to be pleasant...

He reopened his shop and let them look inside. 'I can't say I have many magical goods, but I get some second-hand from my supplier, some with false auras and glimmers, some with something more.' They weren't on display though, being locked in a strong cabinet. 'Otherwise, I have belts, straps, shoes, pouches, coats, haversacks... And to save you asking, you'll have to go to a proper saddlery for horse tack, and the temple of Loviatar for the kinky stuff.'


OOC: You can purchase mundane items and minor magical items made of leather with a 20% discount, pre-used.
This message was last edited by the GM at 13:15, Thu 11 Jan 2018.

 "Unfortunately, my companions are rather better at taking it." Tseran answers in a heartbeat, with the sort of razor-sharp wit he doesn't normally bring to conversation (perhaps he read it in a book somewhere and has been itching for a chance to use it ever since), although he's happy to head on over and look through the goods on offer (after taking a moment to breath deeply - as foul as the process of making leather may be, there's little like the scent of a shop that sells it), rather thoughtfully replacing some of his much-battered adventuring clothes and belts as he does so - at least some of which have been with him through naga-infested rivers and hag-ridden cottages, not to mention swamps.

 ---

 Figure on buying what amounts to adventurers clothes and basic kit since it just occurred to me it's been a while and mend can only do so much. ^_^

Once inside the shop Orophear gently pulls Aerin aside.
"Should one of us check the apartment upstairs while the others keep this shop keeper busy?"

Aerin nodded in understanding and followed the shopkeeper inside. Looking around she listened to Orophear and gave him an affirmative gesture while she turned to the proprietor. "I'm looking for a cloak, something less flamboyant than this one, but good to hold off rain or perhaps snow, should I get to travel to the north." the dragonkin said, indicating the one she was wearing. She would need something really big though, with her draconic built and the armor underneath she was almost reaching dwarven proportions.

'Ah, of course. Especially as we head into the Claw of Storms.' the shopkeeper agreed, using a common name for the month of Tarsakh, early in spring but known for its rains and storms. He showed Aerin a range of plus-size leather coats and cloaks, pointing out their features. As requested, they were practical rather than flamboyant, being designed for herders and rangers who were often caught out under the open sky, and hence were well waterproofed against rain and snow. The shopkeeper was polite and especially eager to please and not to offend the fierce-looking dragon-woman.


OOC: I had mistakenly called the current season autumn rather than spring. Hence it is now a rather damp spring. :)

Aerin nodded "That's right. I'll take this one." she proclaimed, indicating she was getting the one she was still wearing to try-on for size. It looked like it would fit well into a natural background and covered most of her golden armour. "I could use a new purse as well, do you have something with a draconic style?" she asked, wondering if Orophear had managed to complete his task yet.

'Ah, well, for the clasp, I have these interlocking bat-wing designs, and here's a nice a dragon-head clasp,' he displayed, showing her one where a silver dragon-ish head bit down on the purse to lock it, 'And these are made of scaly reptile hide – from regular lizards, of course...'

While Aerin inspected the merchandise, Orophear had crept up the stairs, but quickly discovered the crucial flaw in this plan – the apartment had stood above the antique dealer's store, but they'd moved across to the neighbouring leather goods store. Its upper floor was used for secure storage of the minor enchanted pieces, put away for the night.

Then the alarm went off. An unseen bell rang urgently, evidently from an alarm spell, raising everyone's attention. In a city of thieves, one couldn't be too careful. 'Oi! What're you about?' the shopkeeper demanded, reaching for a club under the counter...

But Maelarra swept in from where she'd been examining some sturdy yet stylish hiking boots. 'Oh dear... We do beg your pardon, shopkeep, my companions appear to have misunderstood the architecture. Adventurers, you know. We are very serious about finding Master Mot...' she explained readily, but the man was hardly mollified.

'I oughta call some guardsmen...'

'Oh, I'm sure you don't want to bother them and pay their bribes for nothing. Please, let me make it up to you – the blessings of the Merchant's Friend upon your business, and a tallying of your accounts, free of charge.' She waved her golden coin amulet of Waukeen, flashed a golden smile with gleaming green-gold eyes, and the shopkeeper was quickly dazzled into pacification.

'Hmm, well, alright. But the rest of you, out!'

"I'll still have that dragon-head clasped purse. It goes nicely with the rest of my stuff." Aerin said, not impressed by the shopkeeper's threat (neither the club nor the guards). She took her time, paid in full and left in no hurry - perhaps just to spite Maelarra and her ever-present Merchant-Friend.

[Private to GM: Just let me know how much for cloak and purse, and I'll deduct it from my sheet. :)
]

Kaijn had been quiet most of the time but curiously browsed the various bookstores and had grumbled something about staying there a little longer as the group had decided to move on.

As the alarm rang he looked up from the leather saddle he had spotted.

"Now what?"

Slove just stands and watches.  Mostly Maelarra Hlartrym.  He now realized he found her both funny and fascinating.  She was everything he was not.  To most this place was den of thieves but to Slove this was still far to civilized with far to many creatures all in one space.
He really needed something to hunt.
However he just have to wait.

 Tseran, having been extracted from the building by the fumblings of his companions before he'd actually completed his purchases looks moderately thunderous as he's unceremoniously ejected onto the street and while gathering himself to berate Orophear catches sight of the store that was their original target... And instead drops his head into one palm, muttering "Mystras Mercy, you actually forgot that we..."

 A deep, weighty sigh follows and he just indicates the abandoned store in question with a fingertip "Well? We might as well go on as we've started. Someone search the place before the guards get here to toss us in a cell."

[Private to Aerin of Damar: Let's say 3 gp for the purse (it's a fashion piece) and 4 gp for the cloak (it's half of a cold-weather outfit, +2 circumstance bonus on Fortitude saves against exposure to cold weather.]

The shopkeeper was wary, still expecting this was a distraction for a robbery, but was still glad to make a sell and take Aerin's money, before making sure they found their way out the door.

Out in the street, it had begun to rain, a light patter that would inevitably turn the filth between the cobbles and in the gutters into a particularly unpleasant muck. The adventurers returned to the antique shop and the question of searching it.

Orophear shook his head, still embarrassed over his role in the debacle. 'I'll stay out here and keep watch, before I'm accused of another attempted robbery.' He took shelter from the rain under the antique shop's protruding second storey.

The others went into the narrow alley behind the store, finding its back door. And some luck – in a city of thieves, a building left unattended was inevitably broken into. Pushing open the door with its jimmied lock, they slipped inside, finding a cluttered antique store full of old furniture, artworks, books, and crockery, from far and wide, old and new, but there was little of obvious value except to collectors of the obscure or the desperately in need. If there was, it had probably already been stolen.

Upstairs was a poky little apartment, filled with odd furniture and things that hadn't, or hadn't yet, been sold downstairs. No one had been here in days; Old Mot had either gotten away or more thoroughly disappeared.

One room held a desk, covered in papers, pens and quills, inks, jars of staining chemicals, pots of pounce (powdered cuttlefish bone, used to dry inks and smoothen rough paper), and blotting paper (used to absorb wet ink). This was a complete set of calligraphy tools, but the not-so-old books and scrolls and maps lying about in various states of artificial ageing showed that Old Mot was a dedicated forger.


OOC: Please state your locations and what you're doing, and roll all the usual checks: Listen, Spot, Search.

Aerin let the other, more nimble people enter the room first, her imposing figure, armor and weapons would only get in the way. Instead she kind of brought up the rear, watching their six and making sure nobody would leave the room unnoticed - should anyone or anything still be here. Watching her companions go to work, she looked for signs of a struggle, perhaps the old man was kidnapped but she wasn't really good with that.

So, out of boredom more than because she expected to find anything useful, she used Detect Magic to practise her spellcasting...

ooc: Cast Detect Magic
14:51, Today: Aerin of Damar rolled 16 using 1d20+2.  Search.
14:50, Today: Aerin of Damar rolled 7 using 1d20-2.  Spot.
14:50, Today: Aerin of Damar rolled 13 using 1d20-4.  Listen.

 With much the same draw that gravity applies to rocks moving in gentle curves, the presence of a writing-desk covered in a wide range of papers and inks pulls Tseran in, initially out of professional delight and soon out of actual interest as he starts going through the rough drafts and partial copies, the blanks and practise-papers, looking to reconstruct whatever the man was last working upon and whether or not it might have been what led the scions to their current task.

 ---

21:18, Today: Tseran Tal'chiar rolled 42 using 3d20 with rolls of 19,10,13.  Search & 'appropriate knowledge skills'.

 19, which would be 26 on Search.
 10 & 13 which could be anything from 16/22 and 19/25 depending upon what sort of skills you want me to use for 'em (alphabetical, as always) out of Arcane, Engineering, Geography, History, Nobility, Psionics, Religion & Planes. I can re-test with a +4 if I can't quite call a tip-of-the-tongue fact to mind. ^_^

None of the finished maps looked anything like what Tseran had glimpsed in his vision back at the Mocking Maiden. Some were street maps of Calaunt and other cities around the Dragon Reach, with some attempts made to correct or add trap streets. Others were more typical geographic maps of the Dragon Reach and Moonsea lands. A few were painfully obvious pirate's treasure maps, probably intended as souvenirs.

Of the most recent work, there were rough drafts and failed attempts, depicting the northern Vast lands, from Calaunt to the River Vesper to the Troll Mountains and points around. None seemed especially reliable.

Then Tseran checked under the blotting paper – and found a perfect mirrored copy of the finished map Old Mot had sold to Dorn Hammerhand.

Tseran had a hard time reading Dwarven at the best of times, and the local Galenan Dwarven in reversed Dethek runes did not make this the best of times. Nevertheless, it depicted a fortified site deep within the forbidding Troll Mountains.


OOC: Since you're looking at maps, I'd take Geography and the 13 for a result of 20.

*

Downstairs, Aerin surveyed the shop. Not knowing what to look for in particular, she could find almost anything in this antique shop: curios, knick-knacks, lost heirlooms, nice furniture, some cheap art...

...And magic. Buried amongst all the junk, somewhere.

The dragonkin allowed herself a faint smile, casting spells still worked when wearing her gauntlets; it had been a while since she last used it. Curiously she lifted an eyebrow "Fascinating." she mumbled to herself, then moved closer, keeping her concentration in order to locate the magic and - if it was the gods will - even the type of magic.

ooc: Neat. Concentrating to locate the aura/s and recognize school if possible.
17:12, Today: Aerin of Damar rolled 20 using 1d20+9 ((11)).