Chapter 1 - Kem, City of Gold

Fingas spins a tale of the events that occured as it matters to the goblins. The priestesses were kind to their people - not to him (he left that part out), but at least the ones that worked at the temple.

The night of their disappearance, they chanted:

"The Shadow falls and taints all that it touches.
Magic itself corrupts and unravels.
Seek the Words of Creation or suffer oblivion.
Drowning in riches, lines read in a folio of folly.
Profaned altar of an aqueous god, bloodily revealed.
Freedoms shackled, secrets tattooed upon the flesh.
Choked by fog, a mural viewed in drug-addled dreams.
Plague-ridden First City, sky rocks floating over ruins.
On the scarred peninsula, a grand boss can open the way.
Forged in the Crucible, a champion’s reward.
Among the wonders, the mad memories of a clockwork.
In the Witch-King’s tower, the final word is profane."

He stopped afterwards, pondering something - "'Drowning in riches, lines read in a folio of folly.' That might mean Kem. It is the City of Gold. Does that mean anything to you, Mad Mardigan?"

Pausing for the question, he didn't yet relay the rest of the tale, that of how their people asked him to help. He would get there, but first he wanted to hear if she had anything to say. He leaned in close and placed a hand up on hers as he asked, "Do you have any ideas?"

"North." Hargrac grumbles low, so as not to be overheard by too many. A moment later, he adds:

"Set will do."

"Several weeks ago? Was it on [the date of the disappearing priestesses]?" Fingas inquires. His mind begins to focus, trying to price together connections and gather it all in. At first he thought this errand was folly, but maybe there's something to it, after all.

Hargrac laughs a menacing kind of laugh, as the woman tells him about how he would be strung up. The dwarf wouldn’t let himself be bound by ropes ever again, and so he tells her:

"I’d like to see the crew that would manage that!" before laughing again.

Hargrac follows her indication over to the Halfling, and in truth the dwarf is surprised that one of that folk sailed the seas as captain.

Half way to being a dwarf… he thinks, sliding off his stool. He gives the barmaid a wink and a coin for her trouble, and heads over.

He couldn’t help but wonder if the damned Halfling would carry goblins.

"Yes, you have been very helpful," Fingas says; he lifts his hand off of her hand and brushes her hair as he says it. He gives his best impression of a genuine smile, but his true intention is that a strand of hair becomes loose. His goal is to take a single stand of hair. If she tries to coerce him into doing something, he can make a control doll for her and take over control of the whole tribe. "The power behind the power," so to speak.

Fingas rubs his hand where the quill pricked him, hissing slightly under the sharp pain. "Ow. I really must be more careful," he feigns, pocketing the quill. Fingas always made a habit of collecting pieces of others, you never knew when you'd need it. Having something of another was a powerful tool - hair, nails, skin, blood... quill? But it would work.

"Thank you, Mad Mardigan, for your time. I would kiss your lovely hand goodbye, but..." he says with a smile, holding up his wounded hand. "Come, Butterfly." "We must leave before she asks us for some favor," he didn't say aloud.

Fingas turns to depart, ready to head back into the city to find the dwarf and the human.

Hargrac’s nostrils flare in something like respect or amusement as he takes in the Halfling and then here’s his croaking, deep voice.

"Not less they get a string of dwarves in here every day of the week, looking to get their beards wet with seawater." the dwarf snorts then.

"You picky about who sails with you?" he asks, with something like a grumble.

Theodore enters the Scurvy Dog with swagger and heads to the bar for his companion. He puts an arm around his shoulder and smiles. "The job was successful. I got all the goods squared away and made enough for a few rounds for me and my friends."

He ask the barmaid for two tankards of ale. "And keep it coming throughout the evening!"

He makes a scene of it, playing it out with exaggeration throughout. Hoping some thirsty patron comes up to him to take part in his generosity. Always a great source for rumors in a new place.

"Heya boyos," Fingas says, slapping the dwarf on the back as soon as he walks up to them. He's aware the familiarity likely makes the dwarf uncomfortable, but he feigns ignorance and pretends not to notice.

"Got some information for you. Turns out we might need to stay in town a little longer. There's some fancy play house in town - 'Grand' they call it. It's connected to the Maidens. They say it's ghosts. We gotta see how it all fits in. There were also some missing women - uppity class - disappeared the same day as our girls."

"Well, no use in me spending all this money on drinks if you already have information," Theodore shakes his head in reply. "Hope you don't take offence, but what do you reckon our chances are gaining entry to any fancy playhouse."

"They say it's closed to the public, so our chances are pretty good as long as we don't go in the front door," Fingas says. "Besides, I've got an expert in getting into places they ain't supposed to be, right here." He says that last part, gesturing to the goblin tagging along behind him, Butterfly.

Truth be told, Hagrac had no idea how much a journey like that would cost. A silver didn’t sound too bad, and he had enough for the four of them; not that he would hand them over now, of course.

"Four." the grunts, growing more irate at each familiar touch and tap as his companions seemed to have sniffed him out again. Listening to the information quickly, he wondered how they would fare in the city for two days. Anything could happen.

"We’ll be here." he says, pointing to the floor of the bar, figuring it as good a place as any to meet this Halfling captain.

"Provided we ain’t dead. Don’t wait for us." he says, with a bullish laugh. It’s hard to know which prospect he’d prefer!

He rejoins the others then, having concluded his business with the Halfling.

"He’ll take us by boat. We’ve got two days. That enough time for whatever you lot are cooking up?"

Butterfly had remained sullenly silent during the encounter with Mad Mardigan. She shifted uncomfortably under the stares of the other goblins, trying to tug her cloak tighter around herself to hide.

Once the group is reunited again, the rogue grimaces when Fingas points out her expertise at breaking and entering. "Yeah, yeah. I can get us in," she says, wincing anew at the sound of her own lilting, high-pitched voice. She scratches at her arm. "Not that I have much say in the matter myself."