You pore over the mystery carefully, but no one can remember anything in particular about a monarch known as the 'Crimson King'.  However, The Black Rose does recall a scrap of a saga about a possibly mythical figure in one of the kingdoms many leagues south of the Bay of Spirits.  According to the tale, this individual was originally a disgraced minor noble who slipped into the underworld and disappeared rather than be stripped of their title and indentured to another noble.  Years later, they reappeared and overthrew the ruling family somehow.  The legend is hazy on how that happened or any other details (including whether this person made themselves a ruler, or introduced some other form of government than monarchy instead).  But when they reappeared, their skin was the same deep shade of red as the stone heads you found are; and they seemed to be a transformed individual, speaking in a voice which displayed a power and decisiveness they had never shown before.

Turning their attention  to the purple and green pouch, The Black Rose and Erolith agree at first that the pouch feels so light it is probably empty,  Then they realize that it actually feels LIGHTER than that; when Erolith dangles it from his hand by the thongs that seal it, he realizes he doesn't even feel the weight of the pouch  itself.

“Hold onto your hats,” Erolith shares with the team as he gently opens the mysterious pouch.

As the pouch opens, a pearly grey bubble seems to swell out of it.  You soon see that this is in fact an inner lining of thin, tightly woven cloth that is being either inflated or uniformly lifted up by some substance or force within.  In the middle of the bubble, just where it attaches to the outer material of the pouch, is a small silvery zipper that opens horizontally (along the seam between inner and outer layers).  The zipper looks large enough that if it were open an average sized Medium creature could insert their thumb and forefinger, and possibly another finger as well, and get at whatever is within the inner bubble.

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(OOC: You may all now make a(nother) Arcana roll to figure out what's in the pouch)

Artifex glances at the bag with a chuckle. "A bag within a bag? Seems redundant"

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Arcane:17

As the pouch unfurled, The Black Rose's curiosity intensified. He leaned in closer, his senses scan every intricate detail of the pouch. 

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Arcane:15

Erolith looks dumbfounded at the pouch.

Arcana roll = 4

Though Erolith may be dumbfounded, The Black Rose and Artifex both recognize the symptoms and general precautions of a pouch of pixie dust thanks to their training in the artificer's trade.  Artifex, following that trade as their main profession, knows also that this pouch is somewhat larger than the usual.  They estimate that instead of the usual single 'dose', this pouch probably held enough when it was full for between four and seven uses.  Assuming that this was what allowed your kobold ambushers to fly, and that the pouch had been full at the start of combat, that would leave between two and four doses left -- which is consistent with what Artifex observes of the inner lining's behaviour.

Tarton realizes that everyone else has stopped and looks over at them as they inspect the pouch. He then decides to get rid of the letter he picked up earlier from Owen, planting it on a random passerby to pass the time as he waits to hear what the others have to say about the pouch.

Slight of Hand in log: 27

"Pixie dust... now that is interesting. Nearly four doses too." Artifex looks at the other. "Looks like our mysterious assailant has expensive tastes. We ought to guard it closely, portable flight is quite useful."

The Black Rose responded with a thoughtful tone, "Indeed, it is." His eyes flickered with a spark of interest as he looked at Artifex. "Why don't you hold on to it for now, Artifex?" he suggested. 

Tarton comments, "I'd prefer to keep my feet on the ground if possible. Though the possibilities flying would give to sneaking around after dark does spark the imagination."

Erolith closes the pouch and slips it into his traveling bag.

”The implications are unfortunate. We have assailants who are well-funded already at our heels. I feel we have stepped into something we do not yet fully understand. I suggest that we put some miles between us and the city as I feel we continue to be watched.”

"I agree," The Black Rose responded. "We should make our departure from the city soon," he added. 

"Our departure should be swift indeed. And I would quite like to hold onto it, as I seem to be the most familiar." Artifex turns to Tarton. "Your hesitation is understandable. Given that the effects are temporary, it serves better in emergency. It wouldn't do to be wasteful with something not easily procured."

You make your way to the gates of Llandovion without any further incident and, as far as you can tell, no further notice taken of you.  The market street spills you out into a spacious flagstone-paved courtyard behind the gates where the morning sun is beginning to fill even the most tucked-away corners with a warm light.  This courtyard is spacious enough for a small detached building to occupy the center of it while still leaving plenty of room for arriving and departing travelers to mill about; the building's windows are grated and barred and two guards in half-plate (a human and a dwarf) occupy seats set into recesses on either side of its door.  Each of the two city gates before you is also built to contain a guardpost within it; a short tunnel pierces the thick walls of the city, and a small room is built within the wall with a door and spacious window opening onto the tunnel.  Each tunnel can be closed at either end with a sturdy gate, but all are currently open and a brisk stream of people flows in and out of both.

Through the river gate, you can see the expected tangle of wharves and quays studded with the customary sprinkling of rough waterside businesses; among these, you see at least one sign advertising boats for hire or sale.  On the land side, by contrast, there are only a few scattered outbuildings before a well-worn road of cobblestones running north and south takes over.

“Let’s see what our options are for passage on the river. Travel will be much faster to the area we plan to search and will presumably be safer than travel on foot.”

Erolith makes his way towards the sign advertising a boat for hire.

Tarton follows Erolith through the river gate. A brief look of relief appears on his face as he passes out of the city wall and his posture changes - he looks more relaxed. Before they get to those advertising boats for hire he says quietly to the others, "I would be very surprised if those trying to stop us aren't watching all exits from the city, though I don't think they'll act with the city guards around. Take note of those that seem too interested in what we're doing or where we're going."

As he listens to those asking about hiring a boat, he look out at the river and those working it while surreptitiously keeping watch for those that may be trying to watch them, particularly from atop the city wall and others looking for boats for hire.

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Perception check in log: 23

Aa the group heads out at the river gate, Tarton does indeed spot a group of riverkin, river gnomes, and an assortment of scruffy-looking riparian riffraff of other races who are lounging against various coils of rope and packing crates in a corner of the docks where they can keep a ready eye on all who come and go.  Before he can draw dagger or bow, however, their attention is suddenly explained as one spots you and points.  You are immediately surrounded by a vociferous mob of peddlers, beggars, lascars and stevedores . You're not sure what the stevedores want with you except to imagine that they view you as potential cargo to be loaded and unloaded and want to assess how much work (and potential profit) you represent.  The rest set up a howling, screeching din of importunities and peddler's saws that lasts until a huddled mass that you had taken to be a pile of burlap sacks and similar things off to the edge of the quay begins to stand up.  It reveals itself as a strange, massive creature which had been sitting wrapped in coarse robes and cloaks, huddled in on itself and so still that it appeared to be inanimate.  You have only heard legends of the awe-inspiring dragons, but of you all only Artifex has ever seen or imagined a creature that combined the best features of a dragon and a humanoid.  The being's silvery scales glisten in the morning light as it rumbles at the crowd around you, "Leave the poor travelers their peace, vultures!  And the poor among ye, surely you are ashamed to have to beg random passersby for bread?  The wayhouses of the Ainö Aaltônen have more to offer than shelter from the restless dead!  We can give you your fill and more, but more, we can give you your dignity back."  As the creature turns to address you, you note a certain lack of angularity in its form that leads you to believe you are speaking to a woman; but it takes you several more moments to observe any notes in her voice which would have given you any clue as to her gender.  And the integral boiled leather breastplate that makes up a part of her sturdy chain mail is not particularly contoured to either male or female lines.  "Please forgive the swarm.  Some of them do not know what they are doing, some have no choice, and some..."   She fixes the few remaining stragglers with a cool gaze that clears them out in short order.  "Gwrgi ap Gwydion, filled with joy to make your acquaintance."

"Whoa!" Tarton says getting his breath back. "It'll take some getting used to traveling in a group I see." He says mostly to himself as he takes note of those who had to be glared off by the dragon person.

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What should I roll to see what Tarton knows about dragons and this person? Specifically does he think all dragons are evil?

"While I'm certainly not above the occasional con myself, however those who hover and make their deceptive nature so clear I find rather distasteful. As for those who have no other option... well lack of proper shelter is a blight I've encountered many a time. It's always a pity to see how a society will abandon and trample on those citizens most in need."

Artifex shakes their head, clearing such morbid contemplations from its mind. "My apologies, I've yet to introduce myself. I am Artifex. Always a pleasure to encounter those of a more draconic persuasion. Though I must admit I'm unfamiliar with any being that represents such a delightful blend of dragonkin and human. An honor to make your acquaintance Miss... Gwrgiap was it?"