Chapter 23

It’s mid-morning and the group has settled into their quarters on the Iron Vulture. Not wanting to waste any time, they hatch a plan to investigate Davanor’s warehouse more closely.

In the privacy of a cabin, Grindlefoot wild shapes into a rat and clamors into Dolor’s pocket. Leaving the ship, the group splits up to avoid notice. Bilwin sets up at a busy corner close to the warehouse’s front door, pulls out his hurdy-gurdy, and begins to tune the instrument to his own unique tastes. The two muscular guards pay little attention to him, or much of anything else, for that matter.

Dolor and Gven meander through the crowd slowly, as though they’re talking business while taking in the salty sea air and other pungent smells that city docks are renowned for. Shortly past the building’s front door, at an alleyway, Dolor stoops down as though to adjust his boots, and gives Grindlefoot the signal. Disguised as a rat, he quickly hops out and scurries off into the alleyway, in search of a subtle entrance into the warehouse. Intent on their own business, the crowds passing by the warehouse and surrounding buildings barely notice the tiefling and half-orc, let alone the rodent.

Mond trails the group, keeping distance between them so that he can monitor any unusual activity or interest in the group. A block away from the warehouse, he pauses to listen to a red-haired female halfling playing a violin—and it’s lovely, like nothing he’s heard before.

Bilwin begins busking at the corner and the guards perk up a bit, interested in something to help pass the time. Gven and Dolor stop a little bit further down the street, apparently deep in discussion—while keeping an eye on the warehouse and guards.

Grindlefoot scuttles down the alleyway, acutely aware of—and enjoying—the smells that would have turned his stomach if he were in his usual halfling form. Seeing a drain pipe leading down from the roof, he grabs hold and climbs up, looking for an open window or other entry point. Reaching the rooftop, he notices a half-elf wearing leather armor posted at the front of the building, grimacing to themselves as they lean over and watch Bilwin playing quite poorly. Grindlefoot can barely make out the voices of the guards on the street, encouraging Bilwin to go home and practice some more.

It takes Grindlefoot several minutes to find the trap door that provides access to the roof, but he’s unable to open it in his current form. Starting his search anew, he soon discovers a ventilation pipe and scrambles down it. Losing his footing, he tumbles down the shaft and lands in what seems like a tub of dirty water. Coming to the surface, he immediately notices the stench and the shape of a toilet seat above him—he’s landed in the latrine and taken 6 in damage during the fall.

Thankfully, rats are capable swimmers and climbers, making a quick escape from the stinky brown water nightmare. Shaking the wetness off his fur, he takes a few minutes to assess his surroundings and hears voices coming from beyond the toilet’s door.

“Did ya hear dat fella violating dat weird looking thing out front? Damn if it ain’t a crime to humanity to call dat music.”

“Nah, boss’s got me doin’ inventory for dis new lot.”

“Lucky. At least it keeps ya ‘wake. Heard da next ship might be a few days late, cuz a dat storm. Oh well, still get paid.”

Grindlefoot knows that his hour is about up for the wild shape. He decides to rely on his natural stealthiness as a halfling, with the added benefits of casting Pass without a Trace, to scope out the warehouse. Leaving the latrine and keeping to the shadows, he begins his reconnaissance.

The warehouse is two stories high, mostly open so that crates and containers can be stacked securely. There’s a small office built into a second-story platform in one of the building’s corners, with a narrow stairway providing access to and from the warehouse floor. Extending out from the office in each direction, a narrow walkway provides access around the interior of the building and clear view for guards watching dock workers bring in or remove goods.

Grindlefoot spies a window that is unlatched and makes his way towards his exit. Passing through the rows of crates, he closely inspects the origin stamps on several of them: Erebore, Oreleone, and Amonah. Slipping out the window unnoticed, he lands in the same alley were he entered as a rat. He casually walks out to the main street and over to Dolor and Gven, joining their conversation.

The group reconvenes at the Iron Vulture, where they decide to investigate the origin cities at the Hall of Records. Entering the Hall, they’re met by an eight foot tall elephant, standing by the front desk, reading a book through ridiculously oversized reading glasses precariously perched on the bridge of it’s snout, between it’s eyes. The loxodon looks at them and in it’s booming voice, “morning gentle folk, I’m Brooj. How may I help you?”

Dolor responds, “We’re looking for information on some possible locations for shipping partners. Specifically, we’re curious about Erebore, Orleone, and Amonah. Would you be able to help?”

“Well, lad, we’re a city hall of records, not a regional or national one, but I might be able to get you some basic information based on my 238 years of experience in this office. Let’s see, if I recall, Erebore and Orleone are both coastal cities; Erebore is north of Elsemar and Orleone is to the south. I’ve never heard of Amonah, though. Are you sure that’s correct?”

“Yes, that’s what our associates said. We were stumped as well.”

“You need a cartographer, someone who knows the lands and deals in geography for a living. Hmm, there’s a reputable one in the Scrivener’s Ward, called The Four Corners.” Brooj seems to get a grin underneath their trunk, “always thought that was a clever name. Well, best of luck to you, fine folk.”

On their way to The Four Corners, Mond notices the red haired halfling flutist entering the Broken Spy Glass. Bilwin smiles and says to Mond, “after you pointed her out to me at the docks earlier, I was moved by her talents. We chatted and I recommended the Spy Glass for a decent meal, bed, and opportunity to earn some coin. Looks like she’s giving it a go.”

Arriving at The Four Corners, the group enters to find a grey calico tabaxi behind the counter. He looks up at them, “afternoon folks, I’m Whichway. Welcome to The Four Corners.”

Bilwin responds, “good afternoon, my fine geographically skilled feline! We’re in need of assistance with a cartographic type of problem, at least we think that’s what it is. Do you have a map of the coastline and major cities that we could view?”

“Of course, let me grab one of our recently updated editions and see if I can assist.” Whichway turns to a shallow, wide drawer, opens it, ruffles through several large sheets of paper, and pulls out the third or fourth one from the top. “Ah, here it is. Now, let’s have a look,” as he spreads it out on a large table in the center of the shop, where they can all gather around.

Looking along the western coast of Eritz, north and south of Elsemar, they don’t see any cities or ports called Amonah. Grindlefoot, standing on a stool so that he can also view the map, turns to Whichway, “do you have any really old maps of Eritz and the coastline?”

“Most definitely, but the catch will be finding them. Feel free to browse while I’m searching. Adventurers like yourselves might find something amongst my wares that speaks to you.”

They can hear the tabaxi shop owner opening and closing drawers, shuffling through papers, and unrolling maps stored in dusty cylinders. Bilwin is particularly enthralled by the current map displayed on the table. So much so that he’s extremely quiet, something that rarely occurs.

“Here we are, this one goes back several hundred years,” Whichway says while carefully laying another map over top of the first one. This one is obviously older, with a few tattered edges and discolored paper where it’s seen too much sun or oily hands, but still in excellent condition.

Looking closely, no one in the group sees anything resembling Amonah, but Dolor notices some odd shaped symbols around several islands. “What are these scribbles?” Whichway explains that they’re characters and symbols from the indigenous island people.

Bilwin finally speaks, “we’ll take them. How much?”

“Let’s see, 1 gold for the first map of the current coast line, 5 gold for the older map with the indigenous notations, and 1 gold for a sturdy travel case to keep them in good shape.”

“Done,” Bilwin replies as he pulls out 7 gold coins from his purse. “Now, we need some beer and a large table.”