Carrach: After asking a few extraordinarily helpful Cauldronites, you work your way over to the Tipped Tankard, a waterfront dive on Ash Avenue. The ramshackle building is filled with patrons and smells of watered-down ale and cheap tobacco. Initial inquiries prove remarkably unsuccessful, although you do manage to get a few free rounds of ale. After a few more hours of working on it and allowing folk to become used to your presence, you manage to convince some locals in the tavern to talk to you more openly. One man, Kellyn Vaine, an off duty guardsman, suggests that you might wish to eventually check with the Temple of Lordly Might—a hobgoblin of that description may have passed through earlier in the year and taken part in a couple organized duels and wrestling matches as part of a Kordian festival. You hear no other news and, soon, it is time to head to the Drunken Morkoth for the meeting with Ghelve.
Sando: For some reason, you remember that a rather well-known and well thought of sage keeps a small shop and library due east of Gurnezarn's Smithy on Obsidian Avenue. Surely enough, the sage's residence still sits there, with a small sign on the wall, embossed with the words "Kethevar Kyantas, Sage and Scribe" in Common. Currently, Kethevar, an old, grey haired elf with a nasty limp, is unoccupied and happily offers to do some research for you. Suggesting that you come back in about 3-4 hours, he escorts you out the door.
While waiting for the sage to finish his work, you head over to Weer's Elixirs, the largest alchemist's shop in Cauldron, or, at least, the largest alchemist's shop in Cauldron that operates legally and in the open. Although you have absolutely no luck finding fake vomit or any sort of concoction that may serve as such (despite a lengthy search by Weer's proprietor), the herbalist happily offers you a sample of powdered cherandalian petal, a potent irritant found blooming in the glades of the Great Western Swamp. You manage to procure one hobgoblin-sized dose at a cost of 10 gold, the purchase of larger quantities requiring a permit from the office of the Lord Mayor. By the time all of this has settled, you head back to the sage.
Kethevar welcomes you back in and happily informs you that he has some information for you regarding the Vanishing, as the scholars call the plague of Jzadirune. "It all dates to a botched magical experiment, roughly seventy-five years ago in the year 326—dates differ as to the exact time, but all the sources agree on the basic time frame. A botched magical experiment spread quickly through the enclave, well before it could be contained or located. It seemed to cling to gnomish magicks, transferring itself into the item's user. Ultimately, gnomes contracting the disease would transform, fading away over the course of time, becoming transparent, and eventually disappearing. No known corollaries exist in any records currently at my disposal; you may have more luck at the Imperial Library in Tharokas finding other instances of this type of plague. It is, however, very likely that it is unique to Cauldron and confined to Jzadirune. Despite current gnomish tendencies to dismiss the Vanishing, I assure you that it is quite real."
He has no information about the history of Cauldron beyond what you already know. By the time he finishes, you're due at the Drunken Morkoth to meet Ghelve.
Vorik: All is well with your father's shop. The aid of the Temple of Lordly Might has been quite the boon. He's even managed to hire an assistant, a swamp dwarven leatherworker, Nazyg Grymlorn, a seemingly mute, yet jovial man with powerful arms. Nazyg says nothing the entire time you are in the shop, although he's more than friendly nodding at you and smiling at your pleasantries, even bowing slightly as you leave.
You manage to quickly gain an audience with the head of the Temple of Lordly Might, Asfelkir Hranleurt, a huge half-orc with mostly human features and a brilliantly red beard and ponytail. Only his snout-like nose and the slightly protruding canines of his lower jaw betray his ancestry. He listens attentively to your report and thanks you for the list. Calmly listening to your inquiries about the old gnomish enclave, Asfelkir shakes his head. "I am sorry, my son, but we know very little about Jzadirune. It's well before our time here in Cauldron. You'd be better off checking with a sage or with the Lord Mayor's office. By Kord, all I know is that something, some sort of beastly cult, dedicated to a god with two heads and tentacles for arms, may have set up shop there. Nasty business that, but those are the rumblings I've been hearing. Best be careful, Vorik, and Kord's blessing upon you—may you always escape life's hold and live to brawl again."
Your audience over, there is nothing left to be done, except to head back to the Morkoth and the Cuthbertian contingent for the meeting with Ghelve.
Everyone: Warm, familiar, and comfortable, the high backed chairs and fine hefeweisens of the Morkoth greet you. Mostly empty at this time of night, you find it easy to recognize the salt-and-pepper beard and hair of Ghelve. He looks, obviously, much shorter without the stilts and constantly looks over his shoulder as he makes his way towards you. After flagging down a mug of the house brew, he sighs and looks at your collected group. "Well, here I am. I can help you, but you need to help me. I really wish you'd taken care of that bastard in my shop earlier—I've never felt so self-conscious at home in my entire life." He laughs a short and bitter laugh.
OOC: Please indicate whether or not you all share the information you have found with the rest of the party—we'll assume that you did so prior to Ghelve arriving at the Morkoth.
OOC for Jalon: Did Lia do anything during the break? Let me know in the OOC thread and I can edit a move in for her in this post.
