Kaodi
Hero
The Wader's Lookout was a two-storey building nestled among a small group of buildings abutting the Docks district that neighboured the Puddles of Absalom. Despite its location at the periphery it was not able to escape the constant flooding that plagued this section of the city since the great earthquake over twenty years ago. The bottom floor of the building seemed mostly abandoned, with a layer of loose gravel and sand having been used to try and fill in the floor. The wooden walls were discoloured and warped by years of water damage, and the main featuring when entering the entrance was a wide, recently reinforced staircase leading to the upper floor.
Ascending the stairs to the upper floor, however, you would be greeted by the sight of what appears to be a bustling tavern. It looks like there used to be more walls that were knocked down at some point, but this second floor is now mostly open except for an area behind a long bar which must be the kitchen. There are plenty of tables and chairs, all packed fairly tightly into the available space, and western windows give a reasonable view of the poor but expansive district.
This is a popular watering hole for a certain class of folk from the Puddles - proud, industrious, but mostly still too poor to relocate to another part of the city. And perhaps more importantly, at least for a significant gathering of folks who have come together for a sort of local council, is that its location near the Docks means that it is often overlooked by the ruling authorities in the district.
There is nothing particularly special about those who have gathered under the watchful eye of the proprietor, a man with certain distinct orcish features about him, who stands behind the bar cleaning mugs. But a number of interesting... characters - have found themselves here this day. Greeting any patrons at the top of the stairs is an intimidating looking goblin with a huge head full of sharp teeth and carrying a sword that looks much too big for him slung over one shoulder. Sitting at one table or another are two travellers who have both just arrived in the city on a ship from Andoran that was forced to berth at one of the few docks remaining along the westmost waterfront. One, a human male, is heavily armed and armoured, with a look that is just slightly disconcerting. And the other, also well armed, appears to be a halfling, though he does not look quite like any halfling most people would recognize. At the bar, feigning disinterest in his surrounds, is a dwarven tough in the employ of a localized Sczarni family. He has been sent to listen in on the meeting and report back anything of interest. And finally, hidden away in the back of the kitchen, is a goblin cook recently come to the Wader's Lookout when her previously place of employment mysteriously exploded.
At one of the more central tables around which the throng is concentrated an older gentleman in threadbare clothing that might pass for finery in these quarters slowly rises to his feet. He is a human male with a full grey-white beard and while his coverings may not be rich he is very neatly groomed. "Order, ord- ah, well, I suppose this is not an official council of any sort, but please lend me your ear," he begins. "Most of us here are gathered for the same purpose - we are all concerned about the recent string of disappearances that have been troubling the Puddles. Some of you were with me when I presented our petition for official action to Nomarch Topkick, but I do not think any of us are optimistic about him taking responsibility." The man nudges a bedraggled looking dwarf next to him with a matted brown beard and spectacles who proceeds to open up a small bound ledger of sorts in front of him. "Can you read out the list of people who have been taken, and then we can go around the room to see if there is anyone new to add?"
The dwarf nods. "First there was Cephilly Lisst, a common harlot who worked a few of the brothels around the Little Inner Sea. Then Harker Rosworth, a human mason who did a lot of work keeping buildings in the Puddles from falling down. And Eluin Creever, a half-elven woman who was snatched while her two young children slept in the next room. Vorrick and Gredah Durwald, an elderly dwarven couple that owned a number of successful businesses around here before the Earthquake. Mik Zeegin, a bit of a ne'er-do-well. And Porphyrus Blust, a disowned half-orc of noble lineage." Having recited the names the dwarf then grabs a small feathered quill and dips it in a pot on ink he has brought, readying himself for new entries.
A mousy looking middle-aged woman with greying blondish hair stands to speak up. "My niece Ginifrette is a good, hardworking girl, who cleans laundry in the old Sand Street Glassworks building. She left work one day at the end of her shift and hasn't been seen since! Her mum and dad are worried sick, but they got five more children to look after. We've got to find her!" The dwarf writes something down then pauses briefly to ask, "Family name?" to which the woman replies, "Woolham."
Next a young man gets up to speak. He would perhaps be handsome if he could afford to keep himself a bit better. "My mother, Lespeth Gryphspur, does needlework for a well-to-do family in the Foreign Quarter. She was heading to her job with another woman from work when they overheard a clamour in what they thought was an abandoned building of Merrywheel Lane. My mother, a caring soul, went inside to investigate while her companion stayed in the street. But... she did not come back out. I have my own work and am able to support myself, but I fear I will find no rest until my dear mother has been returned to me." The dwarf gives a slight sigh and adds the name to the ledger.
Lastly a youthful, but not young, elven man rises. "Two brothers in my employ, Ervis and Farhuk Jefari, disappeared from our worksite while I was procuring us some lunches from a widow in the area we are doing cleanup. They are both strong, capable lads, not easily separated from one another. If something could happen to them there together it does not bode well for anyone in the Puddles."
"I remember a time not so long ago when the Muckruckers would have been out in force looking for our people!" pronounces an elderly woman dressed in a faded yellow dress. A few of the other folks gathered try to hush her down, and while she passes out a number of dirty looks she seals her lips. Nevertheless, a man next to her in worn fisherman's garb sitting next to her says. "There's got to be something we can do if we can't count on the guardsmen."
Finally the first gentlemen to speak raises his hands to quiet down the crowd. "There has been some talk amongst us. I know that many folks around here cannot spare more than a few pennies, but if we pooled our resources I think we could scrape together a sufficient sum to hire a few mercenaries to investigate these disappearances. People who can take care of themselves - I do not want us to be adding their names to the list here. But does anyone else have another idea?" A small murmur goes up amongst the crowd at this question but to no stands or raises their hand to suggest an alternative. The man then grabs a hat from his neighbour's head, sparking a bit of surprise but no protest. "I suppose it is settled then," he says as he grabs some coins from his pocket and drops them in the hat then begins passing it around.
OOC: PF2 - Frequent Bathing Required (Closed)
Rogues' Gallery: PF2 - Frequent Bathing Required Rogues' Gallery
Ascending the stairs to the upper floor, however, you would be greeted by the sight of what appears to be a bustling tavern. It looks like there used to be more walls that were knocked down at some point, but this second floor is now mostly open except for an area behind a long bar which must be the kitchen. There are plenty of tables and chairs, all packed fairly tightly into the available space, and western windows give a reasonable view of the poor but expansive district.
This is a popular watering hole for a certain class of folk from the Puddles - proud, industrious, but mostly still too poor to relocate to another part of the city. And perhaps more importantly, at least for a significant gathering of folks who have come together for a sort of local council, is that its location near the Docks means that it is often overlooked by the ruling authorities in the district.
There is nothing particularly special about those who have gathered under the watchful eye of the proprietor, a man with certain distinct orcish features about him, who stands behind the bar cleaning mugs. But a number of interesting... characters - have found themselves here this day. Greeting any patrons at the top of the stairs is an intimidating looking goblin with a huge head full of sharp teeth and carrying a sword that looks much too big for him slung over one shoulder. Sitting at one table or another are two travellers who have both just arrived in the city on a ship from Andoran that was forced to berth at one of the few docks remaining along the westmost waterfront. One, a human male, is heavily armed and armoured, with a look that is just slightly disconcerting. And the other, also well armed, appears to be a halfling, though he does not look quite like any halfling most people would recognize. At the bar, feigning disinterest in his surrounds, is a dwarven tough in the employ of a localized Sczarni family. He has been sent to listen in on the meeting and report back anything of interest. And finally, hidden away in the back of the kitchen, is a goblin cook recently come to the Wader's Lookout when her previously place of employment mysteriously exploded.
At one of the more central tables around which the throng is concentrated an older gentleman in threadbare clothing that might pass for finery in these quarters slowly rises to his feet. He is a human male with a full grey-white beard and while his coverings may not be rich he is very neatly groomed. "Order, ord- ah, well, I suppose this is not an official council of any sort, but please lend me your ear," he begins. "Most of us here are gathered for the same purpose - we are all concerned about the recent string of disappearances that have been troubling the Puddles. Some of you were with me when I presented our petition for official action to Nomarch Topkick, but I do not think any of us are optimistic about him taking responsibility." The man nudges a bedraggled looking dwarf next to him with a matted brown beard and spectacles who proceeds to open up a small bound ledger of sorts in front of him. "Can you read out the list of people who have been taken, and then we can go around the room to see if there is anyone new to add?"
The dwarf nods. "First there was Cephilly Lisst, a common harlot who worked a few of the brothels around the Little Inner Sea. Then Harker Rosworth, a human mason who did a lot of work keeping buildings in the Puddles from falling down. And Eluin Creever, a half-elven woman who was snatched while her two young children slept in the next room. Vorrick and Gredah Durwald, an elderly dwarven couple that owned a number of successful businesses around here before the Earthquake. Mik Zeegin, a bit of a ne'er-do-well. And Porphyrus Blust, a disowned half-orc of noble lineage." Having recited the names the dwarf then grabs a small feathered quill and dips it in a pot on ink he has brought, readying himself for new entries.
A mousy looking middle-aged woman with greying blondish hair stands to speak up. "My niece Ginifrette is a good, hardworking girl, who cleans laundry in the old Sand Street Glassworks building. She left work one day at the end of her shift and hasn't been seen since! Her mum and dad are worried sick, but they got five more children to look after. We've got to find her!" The dwarf writes something down then pauses briefly to ask, "Family name?" to which the woman replies, "Woolham."
Next a young man gets up to speak. He would perhaps be handsome if he could afford to keep himself a bit better. "My mother, Lespeth Gryphspur, does needlework for a well-to-do family in the Foreign Quarter. She was heading to her job with another woman from work when they overheard a clamour in what they thought was an abandoned building of Merrywheel Lane. My mother, a caring soul, went inside to investigate while her companion stayed in the street. But... she did not come back out. I have my own work and am able to support myself, but I fear I will find no rest until my dear mother has been returned to me." The dwarf gives a slight sigh and adds the name to the ledger.
Lastly a youthful, but not young, elven man rises. "Two brothers in my employ, Ervis and Farhuk Jefari, disappeared from our worksite while I was procuring us some lunches from a widow in the area we are doing cleanup. They are both strong, capable lads, not easily separated from one another. If something could happen to them there together it does not bode well for anyone in the Puddles."
"I remember a time not so long ago when the Muckruckers would have been out in force looking for our people!" pronounces an elderly woman dressed in a faded yellow dress. A few of the other folks gathered try to hush her down, and while she passes out a number of dirty looks she seals her lips. Nevertheless, a man next to her in worn fisherman's garb sitting next to her says. "There's got to be something we can do if we can't count on the guardsmen."
Finally the first gentlemen to speak raises his hands to quiet down the crowd. "There has been some talk amongst us. I know that many folks around here cannot spare more than a few pennies, but if we pooled our resources I think we could scrape together a sufficient sum to hire a few mercenaries to investigate these disappearances. People who can take care of themselves - I do not want us to be adding their names to the list here. But does anyone else have another idea?" A small murmur goes up amongst the crowd at this question but to no stands or raises their hand to suggest an alternative. The man then grabs a hat from his neighbour's head, sparking a bit of surprise but no protest. "I suppose it is settled then," he says as he grabs some coins from his pocket and drops them in the hat then begins passing it around.
OOC: PF2 - Frequent Bathing Required (Closed)
Rogues' Gallery: PF2 - Frequent Bathing Required Rogues' Gallery
