The Missing Doll

The road is long and dusty for those who go to help look for the missing doll. The family that lost it was a young human family with a very sad little girl. The sun is and high and the temprature is rising as the afternoon sets in.

And why not look?

Dubtle isn't /quite/ sure a child's missing toy is worth the call out for battle hardened adventurers, but then, these are dangerous times. A big fat raven sits on the Khazadi's shoulder as he taps along with his staff.

It can't hurt to spend a few hours looking. Moire trails along after the others; the young Myrddion woman is presently quiet, her usual chatter not quite so quick to come. She's being fairly attentive to the world around her, watching the landscape and the road itself, keeping an eye out for the toy.

Scrivener follows toward the back of the group, perched atop a fairly plump, but well-behaved horse. She has been plenty vocal about her agreement with what Dubtle may not have actually voiced--and, in fact, is being vocal at this very moment, though not to anyone in particular. The voice from the mask (from beneath the mask?) is clearly a feminine one, and vaguely accented, "Why is it that ones such as we are needed for a mere doll? As a fellow human, I empathize with the girl's parents, but it still seems rather excessive. Are they wealthy enough that hiring us is no great grievance? Is the doll itself so valuable? Is this, perhaps, a trap? The formermost is the least upsetting and, fortunately, the most likely, I would wager."

The road goes on for a bit, but you soon come across another young family making their way towards Alexandira. They also have a young girl, who is holding tight a very fancy looking doll. The doll happens to match the description of the one that was lost.

The family appears to be a poor farming family. The father is carrying a bag of goods over his shoulder clearly intent on stelling within Alexandria.

Malorn looks over to Scrivener, "Perhaps they are influential within the city or in the Adventurer's guild. Either way the coin for this mission is good and will do much to help the monks." He pauses as he spots the doll with another little girl. He looks to the others, "So who here is good at talking? I doubt they would trust one of my kind."

"Oh, boy," breathes out Moire when she spots the doll, glancing sidelong over at Malron for his words. She considers him for a moment before she chuckles, dips her head that way, and steps just a bit more quickly, lifting her voice and calling out for the family, "Hello there, well met! Could I have a moment of your time, please?"

"Hail and well met travelers, is all well in Alexandria?" Offers the mother with a wide friendly smile, they seem to be in a really good mood. The daughter just giggles and hugs her doll more tightly, then holds it out for the party to see, "See my new dolly, her namy is Molly! Molly the dolly!" The parents offer the girl a smile, "Found it laying by a tree along the road side, she fell in love with it immediently."

Sora moves along with the others and nods as she hears the other talking and notices the family as well as the little girl's doll. She purses her lips for a moment. She winces just a bit, always pain when have to negotiate something like this. She lets other do it, unless she has to.

Scrivener glances over to Malom, then to Moire as she makes the initial approach. Face impassive thanks to her mask, Scrivener has to physically lean forward to convey her peering at the doll in the child's hands. Not wanting to be too forward, Scriv makes a show of leaning over to whisper to Malom at her side--not hard to exaggerate that motion, what with her being on a horse and having to lean about as far as is physically safe. The whisper itself is simply, "I'm doing this so it looks like we're talking about the doll. Because we are. In a way."

"Hello, sweetheart," Moire greets the little girl, her smile apologetic as she stops at conversational range, looks between the girl and her mother. "We are actually out here looking for Molly -- the girl she belongs to is missing her enough that she sent us to find her." The young woman lifts a hand there, showing them all her palm. "I am willing to do everything we can, to make it up to her, including another doll. It's...well...you know how little girls can be, I am quite sure." That's aimed at the mother, of course.

Malorn keeps his hood up as he stays towards the back and he looks around to see if there is anyone else coming.

"Well, that did not take long at all," mutters Dubttle.

Buyt the fact that someone has already claimed the doll has him stopped dead in his tracks and wit hall too stiff a smile on his face.

Children.

Dubtle does not know how to handle children. In fact, they terrify him.

"Hi," he repeats.

Then again. "Hi."

The father pauses a moment as he looks over to the daughter and hmms a moment, "Well we can understand somebody missing their doll. Tell you what we will continue on our way to Alexandira, but a about a mile back there was a toy maker, made a wooden rocking horse she had her heart on, but we could not afford. YOu bring that we will trade it for the doll."

The little girl waves to Dubtle, "Hi! your funny!"

Sora nods and looks at the others. "That sounds reasonable." she says softly and looks at the others.

"Great; do you have somewhere you're staying, in Alexandira? If you'd like to meet us at the place I'm staying, I can help get you settled," Moire suggests, with no hesitation. "And that way we can be sure to be able to make the trade. The rocking horse is completely fair; I'm glad there's something we can do." The father shrugs, "Our farm is not that far from here, we are making a trading run, to the farmers market and then back this way. So you will honestly probably run into us on our way back. Otherwise, the farmers market."

Scrivener taps at her chin in contemplation, the sound coming in thin clicks thanks to the mask, then peers down the family again, "Tell me, fellow humans. How much did this rocking horse cost, at the aforementioned toymaker? Would it not simply be a better use of everyone's time if we paid you that amount directly and, perhaps, a few extra coppers for the convenience of not running your little errand?"

The father shrugs his shoulders, "It was like 2 gold, far more then I have seen in a years worth of work. If you want to try to explain to my daughter how that works good luck, she is very attached to the doll. I have to continue forward and make my sale before the day is out. Got some good furs here, at least 1 silvers worth." The last thing Dubtle wants to do is spend any further time in the presence of the small child. Clearly. They terrify him. "Let us do exactly as they suggest. It seems a wise course of action." More importantly, it gets them away from the small, easily upset human girl. "I think that this is an excellent plan." The bird on his shoulder, a big fat raven, squawks loudly once.

Malorn looks to the father, "And what is your name and the name of your farm so that we can find you once our task is complete?"

Moire glances over her shoulder and up in Scrivener's direction, a delighted grin flashed that way so briefly. It's gone, when she looks back to the farmers. "Understood; I know your time is valuable right now. We will fetch the rocking horse and catch up to you as we can. My name is Moire, and--" She looks in Malorn's direction and then back again, the smile she offers the parents encouraging. "What he said."

The farmer tips his hat, "Name is farmer Joe, this is my wife, Jo, and my daughter, Joline, but we nickname her Jo." Then man offers another tip os his hat, "Farm is nothign fancy, can easily walk by it. Just look for the small cotter for the Jo family."

Scrivener nods once, considering the lack of objection to mean assent, and spurs her horse to start on down the road in the direction previously indicated--slowly, of course, so the horse-impaired can keep up. As she goes, she looks to either side at the others, vaguely, "Who, then, is the most adept among us when it comes to mercantile wit? Despite my humanity, my cultural background is not one of merchants, pirates, or any others who might have an expertise in all things precious."

Malorn smiles, "Well it's nice to meet you Jo Family. We will return to you soon with this horse." He looks to the others, "I do not."

A little further up the road you all find a small hamlet. Finding the toy maker is easy enough. Once inside you see dozens of wooden toys of all shapes and sizes. A elderly man is sitting at a table fiddling with a wooden doll, he appears very grumpy.

"I can probably handle it, if none of the rest of you can," Moire says, after flashing a smile back towards the family. "Thanks." She's on foot, but doing her best to walk reasonably briskly. And it's on to the hamlet, and the toymaker -- initially at least, she's just following the others.

"I believe we entrust the girl with the smile. I'm told humans are very susceptible to them," remarks Dubtle, thoughtfully.

And then he's following Moire.

Malorn nods to Dubtle as he follows along from behind. "I have noticed that as well. Especially if that smile comes from someone of the opposite sex that humans thing is attractive. Male humans especially."

Scrivener does actually smile, even if the mask occludes it, and nods, "Ah! Very good. As a fellow human, I can attest to these things. Since this one knows her way around a shop, she can worry the process of finding and paying for this rocking horse. We will simply provide moral support."

Once the group arrives at the shop, Scriv slides down off her horse none too proficiently and goes to hold the door for the others, once again tending toward the back of the group.

Well, then. Moire does indeed offer up a warm smile as she steps forward, giving a little shoulder-bow to the grumpy man. "Hello, sir," she offers. "I would like to spend money in your shop, but I have a couple of questions first."

The old man glances up noticing he has company. Then starts to shout, "We are closed, no sale, come back another time. Out out out!" picking up a broom and waving it at the party, then pauses, "Oh dear, your not my soon to be son in laws family." grumbling, 'still closed, get out."

Sora blinks, "That is a bit rude." she says and shakes her head a bit. "Glad I am not his future son in law's family."

Malorn hmms a little bit as he moves toward as he sees the broom, "What is wrong with your son in laws family that you would be so violent with them?"

Scrivener doesn't much mind the shopkeep's insistence that the place is closed and slips in behind the others, taking a look around for the most expensive-looking rocking horse in the place. Why couldn't this kid want something more easily pocketed?

There is broom dodging. "Wait, please! We are on a mission for a child who has lost something special to her," Moire squeaks, trying to stay in the shop and not get herded towards the door, while also hopefully not being hit. "We just need a rocking horse! There was a little girl!"

"Good sir! Listen to the lady!" Dubtle implores, pointing out Moire.

The raven squawks something that sounds an awful like 'what a dotard', but... naaaaaw. Everyone knows birds can't talk! Dubtle gives it a LOOK.

The Man sighs and sits down, "My daughter is getting married, wonderful man and all, but I have no dowery to give. was going to make a beautiful wooden chest, something fitting. Yet, my tools broke! What am I do to. Rocking horse girl?" he looks confused, "Oh that girl. Yes she was very much interested in that horse over there. Had to peel her off. Tell you what, get me some new tools, and I will give you the horse! Tool shop is in the next hamlet down."

Sora blinks and then shakes her head a bit, "Well, interesting." she says and nods, "next Hamlet down. sure." she mutters something under her breath.

Malorn shakes his head a little bit, "Come on let's get going if we are to get this man his tools. I'm sure he'll have something for us to do."

Scrivener taps at the chin of her mask, pondering how to approach this quandary in a way that doesn't involve going to yet another shoe stain of a village. Ultimately, what she does is pick up the riding horse and bring it over by the door where everyone is presumably gathered, "If you don't mind, kind shopkeep, we must test this for sturdiness--worry not, we will buy it if we break it. We expect that little girl to have quite the growth spurt soon. As a fellow human, I know a future...large...girl...when I see one. Dwarf, give this a try."

Once she's set it down, Scrivener leans over to Dubtle and whispers a few words of instruction.

She has to be on something. Moire's warmth does not miss a beat; she steps over when the man sits, reaching to pat him on the shoulder companionably if she can manage. Pat. "That's rough," she says. "Save the horse for us. It'll be okay. You know you could probably give her some of the toys, though -- for your grandchildren, when they're born..." But she's looking between the others and starting to edge in the direction of the door, not actually _going_ unless it seems like everyone is ready. Malron's words draw out a laugh, another grin sent up his way. "There are worse ways to spend a day," she points out cheerily for him. And then, well, the horse is being picked up, and she winces. She doesn't argue though, looking on and worrying at her lower lip with her teeth.

"...first a doll, now a toy horse, now tools. What a wonderful day this is shaping up to be," mutters Dubtle under his breath. "Ah, well. WE're getting paid... right?" He glances at the others. Just to make sure. They're getting paid, right? "Sir, do you know of where we could get you the sort of tools we require?" He pauses and /eyeeeees/ Scrivener at his whispered words, shaking his head firmly and then laying a hand on him. "There's a time and place for such a thing. Not now, friend! After all, my childhood days are long past me and so, I hope, are your's." A pause, then he mutters something back.

The old man smiles and nods, "indeed, wood carving tools is all I need. My last set broke recently." Then eyes glance over to Scrivener, "Testing it? I know my toys are sturdy, made from fine woods." he stands up and walks over, "Get me the tools though, and the horse is yours!" glancing to dubtle and smiling to him, "My grandchildren would love you!"

Scrivener's shoulders droop when Dubtle refuses to entertain her ostensibly childish lark, and she takes the horse back to put it where it came from. That done, she just heads to leave through the door, only responding to the shopkeep in passing on her way out, "I DO love the love of small children. So long as they are fellow human children." That done, she's out and headed up the road toward the next hamlet on the agenda. She would give Dubtle a dirty look, but the mask definitely prevents that.

Malorn shrugs a little bit as he starts to move towards the small hamlet. "Humans and their toys." He rolls his eyes a bit.

"Thank you," Moire tells the old man, breathing out a melodramatic sort of sigh. There's a glance over the others, another smile sent in Malorn's direction. She seems content to start on the way to the next hamlet over and some tools. At least it's a warm day. If this had been the other day with the rain...ugh. Her steps are still a bit bouncy. the trip to the next hamlet is quiet, but storm clouds can be seen rolling in. The tool maker is also easy to find. A fat jolly man glances up from behind a work bench and waves, 'Here to buy? Got some of teh best tools around?"

Dubtle, of course, makes the journey along with the others, following. It could be a worse day for a walk, after all, inded! Then he sees the storm clouds. They didn't have those in Khazad Duin, dang it!

He sighs. He just sighs.

Scrivener complains at Dubtle once the group is out of earshot of the toymaker, saying only, "Your name RHYMES with subtle! You dwarves are as lacking in height as your jinks." The rest of the trip, she keeps quiet, though. Once they all reach tool maker, she doesn't waste any time. "Here to buy. We need toy making tools. Full set. No need for anything masterwork. The intended user is no master."

"Yes! We are here to buy, and looking for some wood carving tools," Moire tells the tool maker, her smile steady. She does glance over at Scrivener, laughs and shakes her head, and then adds, "We were told you were the best person to ask. We've come quite a ways, already." Her smile turns hopeful.

Malorn looks over at Scriverner, "We need wood carving tools and I believe if you have a set of masterwork we should get them. He is making something for his daughter after all."

The man nods, "I happen to have a set, a master work set. A nice old toymaker orderd payed for them four weeks ago..." he pauses and grins, "Oh you need them for him. Were here you go, its his order, mind delivering them for me?"

"...why didn't he say so? Yes, of course we'll do that," adds Dubtle, trying to hold back laughter at Scrivener's response. Then he nods towards the toolmaker.

"OF course, of course."

Scrivener nods agreement and heads forward to accept the tools so that the lot of them can make the return trip, "Yes, well, he made no mention of their quality. Let's have them and we'll be on our way. Thank you for your good work, kind sir."

Relief crossing through Moire's expression, she offers a grin up the toolmaker's way. "Thank you so much," she adds, after Dubtle's words.

The tool maker nods and waves them off, "Names Joseph, people call me Joe. Give Joe my regards, though his name is Josh." The trip back to the toymaker is relaxed, but the clouds are rolling it. The exchange for the rocking horse is also quick. Then the trip back to Alexandria, which is slowing moving as a very heavy rain sets in. You can see the family ahead of you making their way back and heading towards you.

"Of course it is," says Dubtle with a deeply and briefly pained expressioin. A nod follows and he glances at Malorn with a shrug before aiming to head back the way they came. Because of course they did.

He eyes the sky warily.

Moire waits until they're well away from the toolmaker to observe, "That's a little creepy." It's all she says about it, though. Yes. Tools. Then horse. Then the family, hooray! Her smile is super bright even if she is soaked to the bone, and she starts waving an arm in greeting, aiming her walking that way.

Scrivener isn't so effusive as Moire. The sight of the family does bring relief to her, but she does nothing to signify that. She'll just be happy to have it done with and have the easy money this job has entailed. The pleasantries, she leaves to Moire--after all, she was the one who spoke to them before.

The family waves noticing the party, and the girl squeels seeing the rocking horse. She drops the doll and rushes forward. The doll upon hitting the wet ground begins to break apart, showing that the outter look was simply cheap desing. Something shiny can be seen among the stuffing.

Malorn stays towards the back as he looks around s they were able to do the trading for the horse. He looks to the doll and he starts to move forward towards it. "Oh no," says Dubtle as the toy hits the ground, wincing immediately. "Thank the Gods I have some mending magic or.. hey, waht's that?" Shiny! His eyes lock on it.

He is truly an adventurer.

There's a huge smile for the girl's squeal, even though she had to have seen the doll fall. "Hello," Moire greets the parents, glancing to Malorn and then the broken toy before bringing her attention back. Her smile turns smug for a moment, really.

Scrivener keeps her eyes primarily on the broken doll, but doesn't worry herself with rushing to it, as that task is already spoken for. Instead, she idly mutters off the incantation for Ghost Sound to have the rocking horse emit a whinny and neigh once the girl hops on to give it a go. Best to at least keep the family from noticing the potential value lost.

As the doll is examine the shiny thing is a package hidden in the doll, with some kind of herb or drug in it.

Once the family is sufficiently distracted for Scrivener's taste, she spurs her horse over to where the doll fell and reaches out a hand toward the vial, "Let me have a look at that. Knowledge is kind of what I do." Assuming the vial is handed over, she squints at it and then nods, "As suspected, the price on this doll was suspect for a reason. This is a poison. Very illegal, very nasty. Our options are two: we deliver this poison to its requestor or we turn it over to the authorities. Should we choose the former, I have plenty of arrows that will suffice as a method of delivery."

Malorn hmms as he looks down, "The former as in turning it over to the requester? I would say we bring it back to the guild and see what they have to say. In the mean time we give the family back their doll and apologize for it being broken." "Say what?"

Dubtle looks taken aback.

Very.

"Who smuggles poison in a child's toy?!" Horror on his face.

Scrivener interrupts briefly to clarify, "Deliver as in subcutaneously. As in we poison him. With the poison."

The family offers a wave as they head off, a very happy little girl with a new rocking horse.

Oh. Oh, oh. Moire stares at the poison, and then she frowns heavily. Oh. "We need to take it to the guard," she says, as if this were plainly obvious. "Tell them what happened?" Only then is there a little bit of uncertainty as she looks over the others.

"Agreed. We need to take this to the guard and the guild first and tell them about it," says Dublte with a nod.

Scrivener slips the poison into a pocket among the many layers of now-soaked cloth that she wears, "Let's start heading back and discuss on the way. The only answer to this is justice. Clearly, regardless of what anyone might make of the poison itself, most who deal in poison are despicable and any who would knowingly put it in a child's toy, even if it was not explicitly intended for a child, has an unacceptable disregard for innocent life. We serve justice by killing the injust or we delegate justice to those who are meant to deliver it. Right now, the latter seems to be the most popular option. I would tend toward the former, but the latter is perfectly acceptable."

The city guard will take the poison with a frown, "Smuggling is always a problem, but a childs toy?" They clearly are not happy, but do gladly hand over the reward for turning in the poison. "Rumor has it that one of the high nobles has been targeted by assassins, I wonder if this is related." With that the guard promise a more through investigation and let you all go on your way.