Seeing the logic in Matthias' point, Faloniir will say, "That makes sense. If you're going to steal the souls of the dead and once dead, you probably wouldn't do such foul work above ground where others can see."

Wakanga nods. "Mines. Ruins. Clifftop fortresses. Any such place might serve well."

Faloniir will say to the party, "Should we venture out into the exotic streets of Port Nyanzaru and seek our guide?" With a blush he will add, "And mayhaps attend a dinosaur race...?"

Eldeth's eyes light up at the mention of dinosaurs. "I wouldn't mind going to see the races, if we have time. Or at least to see such beasts." She pulls her attention back as the map is laid out. "How fast are the waters of the river? How sturdy are the canoes, and how difficult to repair? Stone or metal I can work with, but wood or leather I've little training in." She points at a spot on the map (that first skull and crossbones indicating undead territory, south of Port Nyanzaru). "Do we need to worry about undead even on the river, or only if we go ashore?"

"The races are a sight like no other," remarks Syndra.

"And a vibrant opportunity to change one's fortune, for the better or for the worse," quips Wakanga with a smile. 

Regarding Eldeth's questions about the rivers and canoes, Wakanga explains that the rivers of Chult are so sluggish that one might be uncertain which direction they are flowing. The canoes are constructed from wood and are quite reliable. 

"The undead," offers Syndra, "do not shy away from the water unfortunately, but the danger is greater ashore."

"So..."  Matthias would pipe-up.  "We have Camp Righteous, followed by Camp Vengeance.  Why is Camp Righteous listed only as a point of interest and not a fort?"

"Those two camps are the work of the Order of the Gauntlet*, " explains Wakanga. "Outposts in the Order's war against the undead. Camp Vengeance is a fort in every sense of the word; Camp Righteous is a small outpost surrounding an ancient Chultan shrine. I do not know if the Order still maintains it."

*Each of you is aware that members of the Order of the Gauntlet seek to protect others from the depredations of evildoers. Placing their faith in deities such as Torm, Helm, and Tyr, they bring the strength of their faith, their hearts, and their weapons to bear against villainy wherever it is found in Faerun.

Faloniir will say, "Either of those Camps sound like they might be a great place to find rest and a limited refreshment of supplies should we need it. Perhaps maybe even serving as a forward camp of sorts. I'm sure adherents to the principles of Torm, Helm, and Tyr would be happy to assist such as noble cause."

"Who runs the mines? Is that Zhanthi, or multiple parties? I'm interested to know about the Dwarven presence in the area," Eldeth admits.

Syndra nods in response to Faloniir's assessment of the usefulness of the two camps along the Soshenstar. Regarding the mines, Syndra says, "There is no single authority over the mining endeavors, Eldeth. Zhanthi merely sells that which she purchases from the dwarves. And it cannot be assumed that each of these mining locations is active. There is a tale, however, connected to this mine..."--she points to a location on the map just north of Shilku Bay--"...which is called Wyrmheart. It is said that a red dragon chased away the dwarven presence from that mine."

 Barkas perks up at the mention of dwarves being driven away from a mine.  "Wyrmheart?"  He looks at Elonath questioningly.  "Wyrmheart?"  

"That is fascinating, just fascinating!  Nothing that I love better than a good map!"  You see Barkas get his face down on the table and give the map a good, strong, sniff.  He is taking in the odor, the aroma of the map.  To your chagrin, he places his star map on top of the Chultan map and starts to make references, trying to coordinate points, finding the overlap of where Wyrmheart might be represented or the corresponding area in the sky.  "It's possible.  We have to go there to look.  That may be it.  Too early to tell, too early to tell..."  For a moment he has ignored the rest of you in the room.  As he nearly spills his tej, he straightens up with a start.  "Whoa!  Sorry!  That would be a tragedy!  Got lost in the meridians you see.  But that looks good to me, mmm hmm, a fine destination that is."  He's knotting up his beard in fine curly knots, peeking at Elonath from time to time and then looks up at all of your faces.  A big sheepish grin crosses his face.  

(Is there any chance that Eldeth has heard about Wyrmhart? Attempts by 12 clan members and a halfling rogue to reclaim it?)

By this point Faloniir is eager to hit the bricks and take in all that Port Nyanzaru has to offer. Before the party departs he will ask Wakanga a few questions more, "Master O'Tamu, is anyone allowed to compete in the Dinosaur races? If so, how might one go about competing? Do you own your own dinosaur? Have you considered the possible benefits of having a hadrosaur in the race, as they say? One that has your name painted on the side? I imagine a champion dinosaur standing atop a podium with your name painted on it for all to see would be good for business. Not to mention the fortune to be made putting the champion dinosaur out to stud. Hells, you could even just sell the se-" Faloniir catches himself and clears his throat before continuing, "...the seed."

Faloniir is not so subtly trying to weasel his way into the dinosaur race, the Soulmonger a distant and intangible threat in the face of living, breathing dinosaurs. 

Rasp inclined his head in understanding towards Wakanga's response, caring little for the vibrant festivities of the Chultan town. Rasp's mission is clear, and he intended to waste as little time or effort as possible to accomplish it. 

"Tell me more of this map, Wakanga. What is Fort Beluarian? May we expect aid there? What can we predict of the ruins of Port Castigliar and Mezro?"

Rasp's next phrases were aimed towards the party, tone serious as ever. "I prefer heading directly for our goal. Wasting time enjoying the city's amenities grants us little. We should seek a guide and depart for Camp Righteous soon."

It becomes apparent the Kenku is extremely uncomfortable with the climate. Rasp removed his heavy armor - Kenku weren't designed for such temperatures. 

Edrik chuckles lightly. "Rasp, I don't disagree with focusing on our mission.  But to what purpose do we go to Camp Righteous?  That seems no more a diversion than becoming a dinosaur jockey."  He shakes his head, "Well, ok, I suppose Camp Righteous is a bit more on task than racing.  But unless you know something I don't, the Order of the Righteous are just fighting undead, not looking for the Soulmonger.  Maybe we get lucky, but I think we would be better off to start with gathering information here in Port Nyanzaru.  I'd suggest The Monkey's Fist first and then inquiring at Temple of Savras."  

Rasp neglected to return the lighthearted chuckle. “Guides may provide more valuable information than bargoers. You are free to inquire as you wish; I had intentions of asking the temples myself. Camp Righteous may offer knowledge about the undead. It is no coincidence the Soulmonger’s existence coincides with the incursion of undead - and those who have fought them may offer clues to its location, if not valuable insight on the dangers we will face.”

Quote from PlumPie >>

"Tell me more of this map, Wakanga. What is Fort Beluarian? May we expect aid there? What can we predict of the ruins of Port Castigliar and Mezro?"

"Fort Beluarian is the headquarters of the Flaming Fist*, an organization familiar to any who hail from Baldur's Gate, " explains Wakanga. His jovial tone wanes a bit as he adds, "The Fist patrols strike out into the jungle to pacify territory and claim lost treasures. They plundered Mezro years ago; nothing remains there."

He pauses for a moment to drink more tej. "And Castigliar is only a port in name. Today it is a stranded beach with a few dilapidated structures. Undead brought an end to all activity there."

*Party members would be well aware of the rather inflexible mercenary organization known as the Flaming Fist. The group's highest leaders are located in Baldur's Gate.

Matthias would groan and the sound of The Order of the Gauntlet and The Flaming Fist.  Two organizations that he has been judged by in both his home of Waterdeep, and Baldur's Gate respectively. 

Faloniir fully intends to attend the Dinosaur races, either as a spectator or rider, content to leave the hiring of the guide and procurement of supplies to the group. He will offer the pouch of 200gp Syndra had given them to whoever wanted it and say, "You all can handle the minutiae of haggling with merchants over our supplies and the hiring of our guide, as for me, if I am going to embark on a suicide mission into a jungle filled with undead, killer plants, murderous bands of goblins, throat leeches, and Lathander knows what else, I will do so having experienced the dinosaur races, either as a spectator or rider."

Once he receives the relevant information from Wakanga, he will immediately head out to do just that if the others truly have no intention of attending the races.

"I think we have time for both," Eldeth says. "I don't think we should be hasty in selecting a guide, and I want to be thorough in finding information here in the port. If that leaves time also for a dinosaur race or two," she reddens, then shrugs. "All the better."