Waterdeep: Dragon Heist

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Falshen's arcana check (with advantage due to Irma's help) to help Ian know where to start: 23

Please specify the item Falshen is examining. 

The bag of holding (followed by the dust of disappearance).

Examining the items on offer, and inwardly consulting his own education in the arcane as well as his mercantile background, Falshen quietly estimates that, were he to attempt to sell these items, he could get perhaps 500 gp for the Bag of Holding, and between 200 and 300 gp for the Dust of Disappearance. 

Ian, with the help of Irma, takes a closer look at this flask of poison in his possession to ascertain the type of poison, the number of doses available, and the relative price on the market he could get per dose for it.

Medicine: 13

Ian believes he is in possession of a poison that is meant to be ingested, being an odorless, colorless, viscous fluid consistent in appearance with the substance called "Pale Tincture." 

He knows it's poison because of a small label on the bottle that says "POIZN DONT DRINK" along with a sketch of a troll skull with X's for eyes and its tongue sticking out.  

If this is indeed "Pale Tincture," then there is enough in the bottle for about 10 lethal doses, assuming a victim of Medium size and average Constitution. He estimates that a would-be assassin  would be willing to pay at least a couple hundred dragons for the stuff. 

He's also pretty sure even possessing it is highly illegal. 

For any offer of sale or trade, please include a Persuasion roll. 

Ian, having collected his thoughts and information from his well informed fellows posits a offer,

"Madame Garloth, it's not every day that you have besieging Xanathar agents conveniently... taken care of. That, in and of itself, is a service rendered. As you know, there's no such thing as a free lunch nor a free removal of ruffians. But as a matter of course, we seem to fall into the habit of coming upon items that are best left in the hands of those who know how to properly sell them. I believe that we can come to an accord now and into the future with an agreement of future sales and opportunities of unusual items."

Ian pauses to let that sink in and continues,

"It just so happens that in our efforts of removing such troubling characters from the city that we could use a tool to manage their leavings. With that in mind, we would be willing to offer up in barter this Jasper (50 gp) and this tincture. You may examine the viscous substance yourself and make your own estimation of its worth. If you are keen on defense, bastioning yourself in here under Xanathar threat as you were, we would willing to part with a light crossbow or two or three as well. And so, I offer these up in trade for the bag of holding for equal worth in services rendered, future opportunities gained, and goods exchanged."

Persuasion: 10

The aged treasure hunter looks at the bard with narrowed eyes for a few moments, sipping her tea meditatively. 

Then suddenly she cackles, slaps her knee, sets down her cup, and holds out her hand. 

"Deal!" she says. "Provided, of course, that you come to old Grinda with any future finds of particular interest. An exclusive contract. We are agreed?" 

Ian, weighing the words, grasps her hand to confirm the bargain and says with a warm voice,

”Well met. We have a deal.”

Ian then offers up the aforementioned items in exchange.

You may remove said items from your inventory, and add 1x Bag of Holding. 

Does any party member have questions for Grinda Garloth? 

Ian, pleased with the exchange, follows with some questions in a relaxed tone,

”Now that we have business taken care of, We had some questions. Why exactly were Xanathar agents beating down your door? Do you have something that they want? And did you perhaps recently sell a necklace of fireballs?”

Grinda flutters her fingers. 

"This is where I would normally grace you with cleverly cryptic answers suitable to my age and reputation, but seeing as you're paying customers, I won't waste your time. Yes, my other visitors did believe I was in possession of something, something which they obviously had no intention of haggling for like decent people. A stone. Small, glossy, greenish-grey thing, oblong lozenge shape, about the size of your palm. Three eyes, too, or at least what look like eyes, bearing a decidedly grumpy expression. Charming curio. Make a nice paperweight.

"Anyway, this thing came into my hands just the other day, when it was delivered by a nimblewright in the employ of some regular clients of mine, who shall remain nameless. They obviously considered the stone a bit of a hot potato, if you know what I mean, and didn't want to be caught with it. They wanted me to hold it for them until they could arrange an auction of some sort. Well, I don't mind telling you that this was overstepping a bit, on their part, as Grinda Garloth does not act as a mere middleman, especially not when it means attracting the ire of competing parties with violent histories. I have no intention of holding the thing for them, as though I were a safe deposit box at a hostelry, and frankly these clients are rather in my bad books now. I don’t believe I will deal with them in the future. 

“So I sent it away. My familiar, Pettigrew, took the stone and concealed it in one of my little stashing places, the Garloth family mausoleum in the City of the Dead. I intended to leave it there until I decided what to do with it. And now, I think I have decided I would be better off without it. Not at all my sort of business. Not at all nice. Now, if you intend to take it off my hands, why, take it by all means, and gods bless the endeavor. Though of course…” she shrugs, “other hounds on this trail might well have sniffed it out already.” 

“Oh yes, and I did recently sell a necklace of fireballs. Just the other week, in fact. To clients who, again I must insist, shall remain nameless.”

After a pause - and an expression suggesting some kind of internal struggle - Falshen slowly removes a small item wrapped in black cloth from an inner pocket. Stepping forward, he addresses Grinda as he holds the still-wrapped object out for her inspection, "Might you have any idea where, within this city, an item such as this could have been procured? I have encountered several recently and their presence in Waterdeep is... concerning."

Unwrapping the object, Grinda gives a short hiss of indrawn breath, and glances up at Falshen with beady eyes. 

"I don't deal in this sort of thing," she says shortly. "Nor do I know anybody who does. Not my market, not at all. I'm afraid I can't help you." 

Insight check (attempting to discern whether Grinda is holding back): 22

Accepting, rewrapping, and stowing the object, Falshen nods grimly. Before stepping back, however, he adds, "Perhaps you've heard rumors? Your reaction tells me you know what this is and what it is for, which means you know why the people who use such items must be stopped."

Here, the rogue's voice dropps to something just above a whisper, "This matter is not only one of morality, but also deeply personal. Please, if you are able, help me."

Please make a Persuasion check. 

Persuasion check: 5

Grinda reaches a trembling hand out to her cup, drinks, and replaces the cup with only a slight rattle of the saucer. 

"I...have seen one of these before." she says with an effort. "I cannot name any names. But...last year somebody came to me. A servant from a noble house in...in the Sea Ward. He tried to sell me the very mate of the one you have shown me. I suspected he had stolen it from his employers, and so he had - at a party, so he said, when they were distracted. His employers...hold many parties. They are...quite hospitable. So I have heard. 

"I paid for it, grudgingly, not liking the business, not caring to know just what sort of work the thing was meant for. I should have shown the fool the door. Later that very night, another servant came to me - a very different kind of servant. He - it - recovered its master's property, but not before informing me in detail of the fate of the thief, and promising the same fate to me were I to attempt to keep what I had purchased. I only survived that encounter because, well, I have certain guarantees, from certain people. Those guarantees would not hold were I to speak certain names."

She raises her palms. 

"That is all I can tell you. Truly." 

Looking somber, but grateful, Falshen bows deeply to the wizened woman. "You have my thanks, madam." With that, the young noble steps back to rejoin his companions, though his thoughts are very clearly leagues away.

Ian mutters,

”Well that wasn’t shrouded in mystery or anything.”

Irma speaks up next, “Mi’lady would you share with us what you know about the conflict between House Gralhund and the Zhentarim?”