Grenai Fishing Export, the name was still visible on the sign above the entrance to the dockside warehouse. Written in flaking blue lettering above the faded image of a... herring? It was hard to tell. Looking down at the note, checking the name again. This was definielty the place.

'You Beryl?', the young woman had asked, 'Fean said you could help me'. The story was short, but not completely unfamiliar. A happy night out with friends. A handsome stranger. More drinks. A walk home, to more private surroundings. Waking to a empty bed and a empty jewelry box. 'I tried the Watch, but they haven't done anything. don't care about most of it, just cheap costume stuff you know, but my mothers necklace was in there. I can pay you'. Seemed simple enough, the girl had given Beryl a name, Prej Dek, and a few growled questions around bar had rendered the name of his place of employment.

The smell was the first thing that hit Beryl as she walked into the warehouse. The familiar, yet acrid, smell of fish, brine and tar. It permeated everything around her as her eyes adjusted to the darker interior of the large wooden building. Rows upon rows of barrels stacked on wooden shelves large enough to walk on. All lined against the walls of the long one story structure. Though it was light outside, the suns beating down with their customary glare, the warehouse had few windows and was mostly dark. A few oil lamps were onto the shelves at  irregular intervals down through the building. A handful of workers moved through the place, hauling or rolling the tar coated barrels.

'Excuse me? Can I help you?', a portly, older looking elf began walking over to her, a wooden slate and chalk in his hands.

Beryl may not have been performing the most important task in the world. She might not be serving something greater than herself. But if the Port Azure Marines had instilled anything in her, it was the dogged determination to see a mission complete, no matter what. And while running down petty thieves might not be the most glamorous of work, it was honest work. Beryl had taken the contract, which meant that this job was getting done one way or the other.

While the smell of fish and the sea were old friends to the burly Orc, this place was different. This wasn't the open ocean where motion and life circulated those scents. Here they were stagnant and all the more fragrant because of it. Even if the veteran didn't have keen senses, she would have wrinkled her nose at this place. But, she had a job to do, and it wouldn't be right to show any weakness.

When the Elf inquired as to assisting her, Beryl flashed him her tuskiest grin. Better to throw him off while moving in closer, if it came down to that. As she moved closer, the full power of her almost seven-foot frame became apparent, and she had to look down at the portly man.

"Yeah...I'm looking for a Prej Dek that works here. Know where I might find him?" the looming Orc rumbled, not threateningly, but...then again everything she did seemed to make some people nervous.