Teryn nods to Ellanise in understanding, his expression calm but thoughtful. “That sounds reasonable, but are you certain you don’t want someone to accompany you?” he asks, his voice light but laced with quiet concern and faint curiosity. “Even if it’s just for the sake of caution—whoever orchestrated this theft is resourceful, and if your acquaintance has any real insight, they might be watched as well.” He tilts his head slightly, his silver eyes searching hers for any hesitation. “Of course, if you’d rather handle it alone, I won’t press, but be careful. We’ll meet you at Stormgull Plaza.”

Rowan eyes Ellanise with a hint of curiosity, his fingers tapping briefly against his belt, then pause as if missing something. “Sounds like your acquaintance might be cultivatin’ some knowledge in, well… let’s call ’em ‘overgrown fields.’” He shifts his weight, clearly wrestling with memories of his own run-ins on the wrong side of town and, mostly to himself, adds cryptically, “I know I’d be a little wary pokin’ around old brambles that once scratched me good. But I s’pose we’re already halfway stuck in the briars, aren’t we?”

Then, he offers a thin shrug. “If you think it’ll bear fruit, I won’t stand in your way. Just be careful—some weeds’ll wind around your ankles before you know it. We’ll see you at Stormgull Plaza.”

Ellanise nods at Rowan. "I understand your reluctance. Consider me warned and on guard." She then turns to Teryn. "I ... was planning to ask someone to accompany me." Turning her blue eyes on Käinen, she asks, "How about it, big guy?"

"Ah, that is a relief." Teryn gives Ellanise and Käinen a nod of approval. "We'll be on our guard too. I look forward to hearing anything new you uncover."

Vasha’s reaction reminded him of his siblings and because of that it looked endearing, almost cute. Of course, Käinen knew better than to express as much, and limited himself to a nod of his head before speaking.

 “Thank you. A letter from each of you should cover all the basis we legally can cover.”

Not enough to tell us where to go into the ports, he thought a moment before Ellanise spoke. Her suggestion amount to what was likely to become the safest way to look for information in the underworld.

“Ma’am, yes ma’am!” He said by raising his right hand to the temple, palm facing down. A soldier would noticed his feet didn’t move – that was a imitation, not the act of someone that spent time in an army. After a second it all fell apart as he assumed a relaxed posture with a smile upon his face. “Will your acquaintance be alarmed if I’m close by?”

Should I follow from a distance, in stealth? Was the true question. In a vacuum it would be the safest option, but if he were to be noticed that could be taken as an offense. People killed for less, the goliath knew. To him the danger wouldn’t change. He could always teleport from an ambush.

"If you wish, i can accompany you too!" Byldeth quickly offers, "As a paladin, i am obligated to protect those in need. With my shield on your side, i am sure you will be more successfull." Byldeth offers with a smile.

Ellanise blinks at Byldeth, her face soft and friendly ... and blessedly hiding whatever thoughts might be floating about in her brain. "This will only be the request for a meeting," she explains. "For later tonight. I'll need to consider how to approach said meeting as the day progresses. Until then, we can continue our investigation in the harbor." She looks over to see if two letters are being prepared, feeling impatient once again. She mentally scolds herself and begins counting her breaths in order to lengthen them.

Byldeth hums, crossing his arms, "You never know when danger may lurk! A man that sleeps with a blade on his bed is a full in all nights but one!" He comments, but does not try to persuase them any longer

Rowan taps a finger absently against his belt and inclines his head toward Ellanise and Käinen. “Well, you two know your furrows better than I do. I’ll trust your judgment on how best to handle your meeting—no need for me to be the stray bull trampling your rows.” He looks around at the rest of the group, shrugging lightly. “As for the paperwork? Not exactly my trade. If someone wants to take those letters, be welcome to it. Figure we may as well get moving as soon as ink’s on parchment, right?”

Teryn offers a small, confident smile. “I’ll take the letters,” he says smoothly, reaching for them with a practiced ease once they are ready. "If we run into any particularly stubborn gatekeepers along the way, I can put my diplomatic skills to use.” He tucks the documents away securely, then glances around at the group. “With that settled, I agree—we should move quickly. The sooner we get to the harbor, the better our chances of picking up a fresh trail.”

Ellanise and Kainen exit the academy, walking to the harbor. The surroundings shift: the air now carries the scent of fish, and the older, less patrolled areas reveal shady characters lurking around. Ellanise and Kainen slip into the harbor's heart, navigating worn cobblestones and bustling fish markets. They find solace in a discreet tavern, leaving the main group to explore independently.

Your business at the academy settles swiftly once the letters—one signed by Professor Marsh, another by Vasha—are drafted. The professor hands them over to Teryn with a weary but grateful smile, while Vasha gives a final nod to each of you, her usual air of composure mingling with genuine concern.

Stepping beyond the university walls, you leave behind the structured courtyards and arcane hum of scholarly life. The transition is immediate: sunlight grows harsher on the bustling city streets, and the crisp scent of parchment and ink gives way to the varied aromas of urban life—baking bread, distant spices, and the underlying note of soot. Past the central boulevards, the sight of towering masts soon signals your approach to Luminaar’s harbor district.

Ellanise and Käinen pause at a quiet crossroads, explaining they must split off briefly to arrange a private meeting. They promise to rejoin the group at Stormgull Plaza—an open-air market near the docks—once they’ve set their plans. At that, the two slip away into a side street, heading toward whatever discrete spot Ellanise knows from her days before she entered the academy’s orbit.

Meanwhile, Teryn, Rowan, Byldeth, and anyone else continuing on make steady progress toward the harbor. Gently sloping roads turn dingier, cobblestones more worn. The stylish townhouses and refined shops recede, replaced by squat warehouses, modest taverns, and cramped vendors hawking fish or oddities off ramshackle carts. The tang of salt and brine wafts from the piers, accompanied by the creak of ships docked close by.

Arriving at Stormgull Plaza, you find it a stark contrast to the orderly academy grounds. Here, the crowd thrums with a ragtag blend of sailors, traveling merchants, and rough-edged locals. A salt-laden breeze ruffles hair and cloaks. Hulls of anchored vessels sway at the wharf, and the calls of gulls mingle with the shouts of traders trying to unload or sell their wares. It’s the kind of place where deals are made with firm handshakes—or concealed daggers.

No one immediately remarks on your group’s presence, but curious or speculative glances follow you as you make your way through the bustling plaza. Beneath the hum of commerce lies an undercurrent of wariness, typical of places where rumor and contraband flow as readily as any other goods.

Ellanise and Käinen
You diverge down a quieter avenue, weaving through narrower alleyways until you reach a familiar, if unassuming, location: A nondescript courtyard behind a boarded-up tenement with a discreet side entrance. You sense the faint tingle of old memories and the quiet tension of stepping back into deeper shadows. The time for your acquaintance’s meeting is under way; you’ll reconnect with the main party at Stormgull Plaza soon.

Teryn, Rowan, and Byldeth
Stormgull Plaza serves as the largest open-air market in the harbor, a convenient landmark for rendezvous. Ropes and tarps crisscross overhead, shading fishmongers and spice merchants alike. The swirl of voices and smells can be disorienting. Whether you choose to ask around for clues right away, or merely linger until Ellanise and Käinen return, there’s no shortage of places to start making inquiries—taverns in need of a second glance, cargo workers muttering rumors, or local toughs who might know of suspicious comings and goings near the docks.

Rowan inhales a deep breath of brine-scented air, a small grin spreading across his face as he catches sight of the myriad stalls. “Reminds me of a lively harvest fair,” he murmurs, half to himself. Though the unfamiliar language of sailors and city slickers resonates around him, he warms quickly to the rhythm of the crowd, drifting from vendor to vendor like he’s seeing old friends.

Spotting a spice merchant with an array of jars and burlap sachets, Rowan veers off, curiosity guiding his every step. He asks polite questions about herbs he’s never seen—dark speckled powders, pungent petals in brilliant hues—and lingers on anything that gives off even a hint of that resinous aroma he caught in the academy’s courtyard. “A bit stronger than your usual rosemary, ain’t it?” he quips to one vendor, testing an unknown leaf between his fingers. “Folks ever use this for, say, unusual brews or incenses?”

Despite feeling the prickle of watchful eyes on him, Rowan can’t help but indulge his farm-bred fascination with plants and spices. Every new jar of ground blossoms or dried root sparks another question about its origins and uses. 

Almost immediately after splitting off from the others, Ellanise decides to open up a little to her companion as she leads Käinen through the city toward their destination. "I was a member of the Duskrats," she admits. "It's been a while since I ran with them, however. I was ... caught. And imprisoned. Then, I found the light of Ilmater with the help of my master." Her voice has become a little breathier. "Now I seek a life in the light rather than in the shadows." She chances a glance in goliath's direction before continuing. "I plan to leave a message for another Rat. One I was close to. I'm not sure how they feel about me now that it's probably pretty clear I don't plan to join them again since returning to Luminaar. But I'm hopeful they will help." She half sighs. "For old times' sake."

Once they reach the small courtyard, the female elf moves to one particular wall and searches the dirt of the neglected planter at its base. After 20 or so seconds, she produces a well used piece of chalk and brushes most of the dirt away. She places the chalk against the wall and makes a small series of marks that will make no sense to anyone but another Duskrat. And even most of those who can read the message will not understand its meaning. But she knows Mariel Thistledown will. And Mariel's mark is clearly visible, so if another Duskrat sees it, they should alert them to it.

Ellanise pauses, rereading the message. Mariel will know the message is from her. She's counting on it. But it could also mean trouble. She sighs. It's a chance she needs to take.

As she drops the chalk back into the planter and brushes her hands together, Ellanise looks up at the sky. "I think the message is safe today. It doesn't look like rain." She begins walking away. "Let's go meet up with the others. If Mariel meets me, it won't be until after sundown. Between now and then, I have to decide whether I'm going alone."

Rowan
The plaza thrums with unbridled energy: fishermen hawk fresh-caught eels, sailors shuffle by in salt-stained trousers, and street peddlers bid passersby to sample their latest oddities. Amid this ceaseless current, you meander from stall to stall, tailing the faint memory of that scent you recall from in the academy courtyard.

A spice merchant with a riot of burlap pouches laid out on a rickety table snags his attention. Dried petals in fiery hues mingle with exotic ground powders, the air around the stall thick with overlapping aromas—peppery, floral, citrusy, and more. At first, nothing quite matches the pungent, spicy tang you seek. Yet, you can’t help but ask each vendor about unusual incenses or rare ingredients. Some laugh at your farm-bred curiosity, while others share earnest tidbits of local rumor—mentioning foreign traders who occasionally deal in “private stock,” but rarely out in the open for novices to find.

Glances come your way as you test a leaf or sniff a pinch of crushed seed, but the harbor folk seem more intrigued than threatened by your questions. If anything, they chalk it up to a curious out-of-towner with an appetite for novelty. No one so far can name precisely the substance you describe, though one spice-seller muses on “a pungent bark from beyond the southern sea,” used in certain off-the-record concoctions. It’s still just talk, but each piece of knowledge nudges your curiosity further.

Ellanise & Käinen
Meanwhile, away from the bustle of Stormgull Plaza’s throngs and hawkers, Ellanise guides Käinen through increasingly narrow streets, weaving through less-frequented lanes. She shares, in halting but sincere words, fragments of her past—her affiliation with a group called the Duskrats, her imprisonment, and subsequent path of redemption under Ilmater’s teachings. 

The air is noticeably quieter here, the echo of commerce fading to a distant hum. Broken flower boxes cling to a crumbling wall, earth gone arid and compacted. Ellanise digs into the neglected planter and procures a well-worn piece of chalk, etching a series of coded marks where a crack in the wall meets its corner. To an untrained eye, it’s a random scrawl—maybe an old maintenance mark, or some passing vagrant’s doodle. But Ellanise knows her old friend Mariel will recognize it for what it is

With their errand complete, Ellanise and Käinen make good time back toward Stormgull Plaza, guided by the sights and smells of the bustling waterfront. By the time they arrive, Rowan is deep in conversation with a merchant displaying a medley of herbs, Teryn and Byldeth nearby, scanning the crowd or making subtle inquiries. The jostle of bodies, the bark of seagulls, and the clamor of maritime commerce envelop all of you in the living tapestry of Luminaar’s docks.

And just like that, the group is whole again.

(Huh, I didn't expect to find clues by looking through spices. I just tried to feel out what Rowan might find personally interesting on the market square :) )

Rowan’s brows knit as the merchant makes a show of wagging a finger at him. “Look, friend,” he says, hands raised placatingly, “I didn’t mean to, uh, snort half your stock. It’s not like I came in with a scythe, chopping up your field.” He rubs his nose, still tingling from the unexpectedly potent powder. “Besides, if you can measure the damage from one measly sniff, then you’ve got sharper eyes than a farmhand in the middle of weeding season.”

Despite the tension, Rowan’s fingers only tap lightly at his belt, searching for that old coiled energy just a hair’s breadth beneath the surface of his previous implement. Not wanting a scuffle over something so small, he offers a half-apology. “Tell you what—if you think I cheated you of more than a pinch, take it up with the next traveler who tries your wares. Me, I’ve got bigger weeds to pull.”

With that, he turns on his heel, striding away to rejoin Teryn, Byldeth, and the newly arrived Ellanise and Käinen, leaving the vendor sputtering behind him in a mix of outrage and confusion. He tells his companions what he heard about the 'a pungent bark from beyond the southern sea, used in certain off-the-record concoctions'.

Teryn watches the spice merchant’s flustered reaction with faint amusement as Rowan strides away. As Rowan relays what he learned, Teryn listens intently, his silver eyes narrowing in thought. 'Bark from beyond the southern sea'...

Nature: 11

“If it’s used in contraband concoctions, then whoever employed it knew exactly what they were doing. It might be worth checking if any alchemists or traders around here deal in such things—perhaps they’ve had unusual buyers recently.” His gaze drifts over the bustling marketplace, scanning for such traders.

“We are not so different, you and I.” His voice was serious, but also kind. “I worked for Blackthorn. Forced at first, but still. I was there when his base was raided but instead of being captured I escaped. Tried to hide amongst the Wardens. After a while got real respect for them and there are deities worse than Valora. They accepted me even when I told my history but in the end I don’t think I fit their way that much and decided to go the mercenary route. They even helped me getting clients and I can avoid shady work.” Memories of his dwarven master came to mind. “New beginnings are hard.” The goliath knew from experience. “When this all ends, and if you want, I can introduce you to the Wardens. And if you need help, red hair, you can count on this blue haired one.”

Only when he said as much he noticed how, despite having many similarities they were opposites. Men and woman, blue hair and red hair, fugitive and prisoner, guarded and honest, secularist and believer. A curious thought he ncarried on his way back to the rest of the party.

“It’s also rare, considering a single merchant spoke about it.” Käinen started after Teryn. “The port authorities are likely to know everyone who sells it, at least legally, since it comes from the sea.” He nodded to Rowan, impressed with his findings. “Also, does he writing in any of our letters matches that of the note?”

Teryn tilts his head curiously at Käinen's idea, pulling out and gently opening the letters from the professor and Vasha to compare to the note Rowan found in the garden. "Ah, interesting idea. The two didn't seem suspicious to me, but you never know."

[ I'm going to give Käinen Heroic Inspiration for asking to compare the handwriting of the notes. The angle you've been exploring of either Vasha/Prof. Marsh being in on the theft is one I wish I would have thought of beforehand. Yet, they are definitely not part of it, haha. ]

Your makeshift circle reforms by a weatherworn fountain along the eastern edge of Stormgull Plaza—just enough distance from the main crowd to confer with fewer prying ears. The salty tang of the harbor mingles with a lingering hint of unfamiliar spices on Rowan’s hands, while the morning’s sun glints off bits of worn cobblestone underfoot.

With a thoughtful nod, Teryn withdraws the two letters drafted by Professor Marsh and Vasha, laying them side-by-side with the coded parchment Rowan had found in the academy courtyard. His silver eyes scan each loop and cross-stroke carefully. After a moment, he can discern that they don't match. Marsh’s and Vasha’s scripts are entirely different from the note’s. Which is at least reassuring—no sabotage from inside the academy. Still, that leaves the letter’s author unaccounted for.

Rowan recounts the merchant’s tale of “a pungent bark from beyond the southern sea,” but neither Teryn nor anyone else can place the substance with certainty. Even among the market’s wide array of spices, it remains elusive—if it’s truly used in off-the-record concoctions, the vendor’s openness is suspiciously lacking. Others might be selling it in more clandestine corners, or dealing strictly with known buyers.

At this point, Ellanise and Käinen rejoin the group. Ellanise’s expression is a mix of focus and restless energy—her errand done, but her mind clearly on the next steps. Käinen’s posture suggests readiness, as though he’s weighed the potential dangers ahead and set his resolve.

Before you can decide your next move, a lean figure in a hooded cloak sidles up—a wiry street urchin with gaunt features. He gives Rowan a once-over, then the rest of you, before leaning in with a crooked grin and speaking quietly, “Heard you were pokin’ round about special spices, yeah? Dunno if it’s what you’re after, but I overheard some talk of a group’s meeting in an old storehouse near the Driftwood Pier around dusk. Word is they deal in shady goods—components, relics, all that. Could be nothin’… or could be what you're lookin' for." He stifles a cough. "Might cost you a coin or two for me to jog my memory about exactly which storehouse.” 

Whether or not you pay him, he shrugs off additional questions, ready to back off and blend back into the crowd.

Ellanise’s old acquaintance may reveal a vital link about the tome’s thieves, or the Duskrats’ knowledge of this job. Around the same time, investigating the urchin's site might expose you to precisely the type of criminals (or their associates) who trade in rarities. Vasha’s Letter or Professor Marsh’s might smooth official contacts, but tackling illicit dealers often calls for a low profile. Despite daylight still lingering, you sense the day moving inexorably forward.

The wind off the bay curls around you, tangling in your cloaks and hair, a promise that the quiet of midday will soon give way to the harbor’s darker pulse come nightfall.

Without hesitation, Ellanise reaches a couple thin fingers into her coin purse and pulls out two silver coins. Holding them out toward the urchin, she smiles, "Is this enough to jog your memory, young one?"