Looking down the narrow alley towards the street, Loukas once again made sure noone was watching him, before dropping out of the office building window. Filled with refuse, old crates and a couple of empty barrels, the narrow passage between buildings was seemingly rarely used and had provided a excellent way to gain entry into the offices of Ashkern and Sons Trading without anyone noticing, as well as an exit.

Mathius looked over his gold rimmed glasses at Loukas, the delicate spectacles balancing near the end of the elderly dwarfs broad nose, 'Ashkern, he's a merchant down by the docks'. As the senior clerk in the Cartographers Guild's Aquisitions dept. Mathius Stoneback was one of Loukas' usual contacts when the guild needed his particular skills. Impeccably dressed in muted but well made clothes and his long hair and beard woven into thick braids. He looked back down at the desk, the inkstained hands flicking through some papers, 'Received a shipment of some sort last week from... erm... where is it... ah, the Ang'Jer penninsula. He hasn't responded to the regular, repeated, requests for copies of the maps'. He looked back up at Loukas, sucking his teeth, 'And that simply will not do Loukas, not at all'.

The muddy cobblestones were slick, but he quicly rose and checked the folded parchment in his hand hadn't suffered any damage.

[How far to the drop? What sort of foreseeable obstacles are there?]
This message was last edited by the player at 13:29, Fri 15 Apr 2022.

Hafjian, making his best effort to join the foot-traffic of the city (rather than look like he's skulking out of an alley), makes his way toward the rendezvous point.

Pushing his way through the crowds Hafijan, made his way towards the nearest of the guilds friends. There seemed to be more people than normal this day, and as he moved he saw sailors and marines, clearly flush with coin and eager faces. Convoy must have come in.

Finally he ducked down one of the smaller sidestreets and saw his destination. Crammed in between two warehouses was a smaller, very narrow, wooden structure, that semed to have been built using the walls of the neighbouring buildings as an integral part of its construction. A small staircase led down to a ornate wooden door. The words 'Redscale Books' were delicately ingraved into the centre and a beautifully carved, roaring dragon surrounding it. Hafijan had only used this place a few times, but the owner, an older dragonborn named Xavier Redscale, was a friend to the guild and had copied more than a few maps when called upon.

Hafjian goes into the shop, quietly but not TOO quietly.

The general plan is to simply 'make a delivery' ("Delivery!" "Put it out back."), get it copied as soon as possible, and then get back to returning it.

Cracking open the door, the smell of old book, ink and paper hit Hafjian's nose as he entered and let his eyes adjust to the darkness. Looking around he was met by the sight of bookshelves lining every wall and covering the tables in the centre of the small shop in tall stacks. A shuffle of movement alerted him to a figure moving behind some of the books. A youngish looking dragonborn walked out, a precarious stack of tomes, papers and leatherbound books in both hands, with a smile on his face, 'Welcome to Redscale Books, let me just put these down and I'll be right with you'.

As per how it usually goes, Hafjian waits his turn (provided it isn't wasting a lot of time, in which case he might sort of 'break character' to say he's on a Guild errand and doesn't have a lot of time.)

Hafjian wasn't sure he recognized the young Dragonborn, but also wasn't certain whether it was worth being suspicious about. So, if the young Dragonborn needed a moment to put things down, Hafjian had no reason to deny it.

He shifted from foot to foot, and glanced about to make sure he was where he needed to be, and see who (if anyone) was before him. The clock was ticking, he needed to get that map back where it properly belonged, but at the same time, he didn't think he was cutting it too close.

He then paused and caught himself for thinking "the clock is ticking", a sure fingerprint of the Merchant Prince's influence over the city. (Traditionally, there weren't even enough clocks about to think in those terms. That had changed.)

Hafjian cleared his throat. "I have a delivery for a...'Xavier Redscale'." He said it as if he hadn't met Redscale, simply because he didn't want to make it too obvious that he had.

The dragonborn nodded, 'Yeah that's me'. Turning around, he set down the books with a heavy thump. As he did, Hafjian saw the strangers scaled right hand slip beneath one of the piles, and caught the slightest glint of metal as he turned back towards Hafjian with a smile, "Now, what was the delivery?'.

OOC:
09:23, Today: GM, on behalf of Hafjian, rolled 16 using 1d20-2. wis (perception)
This message was last edited by the GM at 08:24, Mon 25 Apr 2022.

[OOC: Just to be clear, this is the young dragonborn and they're lying, not the appropriate 'partner'?]

OOC:

GM:

Hafijan had only used this place a few times, but the owner, an older dragonborn named Xavier Redscale, was a friend to the guild and had copied more than a few maps when called upon.

Indeed.

A direct confrontation wasn't in Hafjian's favor- even if it wasn't a Dragonborn (with all those advantages), the main thing Hafjian had in his favor was that the 'shopkeeper' in front of him didn't know that he knew.

He tried pressing his luck, a little. "Manuscript. Cash-on-delivery, I'm afraid." he began, in a regretful you-know-the-deal way "I'm not to turn it over until I get paid. Ten gold."

This was, of course, a faintly ridiculous amount of money, especially as Hafjian wasn't visibly carrying a parcel. But he wanted to see what the dragonborn would do- any money in the store wasn't theirs, of course. Would they bet that whatever Hafjian had was worth it?

He also, realized, that he felt very unprepared. Typically, for daylight work like this, he didn't carry anything special to defend himself. (It just looked too suspicious). Hoping that something would distract the Dragonborn impostor, he prepared to look around to see if any weapons were present, or (better than nothing) any objects he could press into improvised service as one.

The dragonborn frowned, hesitating slightly, as Loukas spoke, 'I'm sorry?'. He seemed to quikly regain his composure, 'Ten gold seems a little steep'. Loukas could see the man working to keep whatever had had in his right hand hidden from sight, holding it slightly behind his back, 'But I guess if that's what was agreed'.

Looking around at the tables and shelves around him, Hafjian could see precious little that could possibly double as a weapon, mostly books and scrolls of varying sizes. However shifting his weight slight he noticed a metallic glint coming from the table in front of him, between himself the and imposter. Underneath one of the stacks he could see the old wooden handle of a  papercutting machine. The blade attached was long and looked very sharp, it was however secured to the cutting board with a pin. Even if he could remove it and get the blade, as close as the imposter was, it would still likely be too late.

OOC:
13:24, Today: GM, on behalf of Hafjian, rolled 21 using 1d20+2.  cha (deception) opposed by an insight check.´
13:30, Today: GM, on behalf of Hafjian, rolled 10 using 1d20-1.  wis (perception).
This message was last edited by the GM at 12:38, Fri 29 Apr 2022.

[OOC: If Hafjian can't bring the blade to the Dragonborn, could he bring the dragonborn to the blade? Using his best estimate, does Hafjian think he could wrangle the arm of his suspicious 'customer' into position to threaten him with the blade? Maybe he could get some answers out of him that way.]

OOC:
Perhaps, you would have to grapple the guy, and he might still have a weapon or something else in the hand you can't see. Maybe a distraction could get him looking away long enough to give you a chance to get the blade? Or you could pick up a tome and try to slug him with it...

Before I go any further, using the moment to use his 'searching eye' (Investigation).
What he's looking for: Signs of a weapon or a struggle, what this guy is specifically hiding in his hand.


07:11, Today: Hafjian rolled 14 using 1d20+4.  Investigation.

Looking about the room, Hafjian noticed little that seemed to indicate a struggle had taken place, at least not in the store itself. He knew that Xavier lived in one of the backrooms, so while there might not be anything immediately visible to indicate the old man's fate he couldn't be definite.
The imposter was clearly getting more impatient as Hafjian hesitated, he cleared his throat and reached down to a pouch at his waist, 'Let me just get the money'. Turning slightly from the movement, Hafjian again saw a metallic glint in the dragonborn's hand, looked like a blade of some kind.

[OOC: One more quick question before I have Hafjian make a terrible decision- is there anything, from smell or anythign else- to indicate that the Dragonborn has used a breath attack, recently? I'm just picturing Haf grappling and getting a faceful of flame for his troubles.)

OOC: Nope. Nothing seems to indicate that the guy had used his breath recently.

Well, crap. Haf isn't equipped to take out a Dragonborn in close-combat in a flammable environment. Change of plan.

Now that the Dragonborn's back is turned, Hafjian makes a break for the door. He has the map he was after, he knows that that's NOT Xavier, he knows that whoever that is just killed Xavier, and he suspects he isn't equipped to take him out in turn. The next appropriate thing to do [I assume he makes it to the street] is to report back to the Guild what just happened, and get some support or better equipment to (if the job is still his).

Second best option would be the guild Xavier himself was a member of. (Haf wasn't sure- there was sometimes a bit of hazy overlap), third best would be the City Guard. This was because the City Guard would, eventually, decide it was too hard and give up on a job, eventually, but a guild would do everything in its power to make its members feel safe, or they'd lose authority over their members.

But the first thing was- quickly, quietly, out and clear.

'Hey!', the voice came from behind Hafjian as he turned and made for the door. As he reached for the door Hafjian suddenly saw a blur of motion out of the corner of his eye and a sharp pain exploded from his side, right beneath the right shoulder blade. Glancing down he could see the hilt of a dagger sticking out, the cloth surrounding it quickly staining red.

OOC:
17:00, Today: GM, for the NPC the mysterious dragonborn, rolled 20 using 1d20+3.  attack.
17:05, Today: GM, for the NPC the mysterious dragonborn, rolled 5 using 1d4+1.  damage.

Keep running!

Hafjian continued to go for the door- at this point, his best bet being to simply get out to the street and trust that the commotion (and the sight of seeing him bloodied with a dagger sticking out) would cause too much distraction to make a follow-up tempting.

(Bump? He's in full on flee and (ironically) "Serpentine!" mode.)