Even given that she was obviously overwhelmed by Gavrael's charm, you are suprised to see Mollie enter the hostel while you are eating the porridge they provided to the recovering revellers.

"I knew I'd find you," she says, "Master Fansherin has a task that requires a trustworthy band, and after last night he thought of you..." her gaze lingers on Gavrel, suggesting that the thought may not have been unprompted.

She leads you back to the townhouse.

Fansherin leads you inside, past the garden shrine and into a room of comfortable chairs.

"Thank you for coming," he begins, "last night my Patron was robbed of some coins, family heirlooms. Fortunately the thief was startled before they could take anything of greater value. Her people tracked the thief as far as the Broken Quarter, but our guards would find nobody who saw or heard anything there."

"I can pay you 400 orrusses to recover all ten coins." he says, "each is about an inch and a half in diameter with a crushing wave embossed on them, they were in a blue silk purse embroidered with the symbol of House Narlanth."

"The thief is a human male, we think in his late teens or early twenties, tall, with black hair, wearing a leather jerkin, grey pants, a purple neckscarf and some flashy snake skin boots."

Gavrael smiles and mumbles something in Scavian, "Rats... Everyone has them."

Returning to Theran, "Very well, sir. We'll find these coins for you. Unfortunately, duty to our ship leaves us short on time. We will need to be on the morning ferry back to Sky Point tomorrow. Send your agent to the docks in the morning for the exchange."

Turning to his companions, Gavrael strokes the scruff on his chin. "Alright men, we've got some lucre to find. We'll need to reserve our spot on the morning ferry, I won't have the Captain upset with me for being late. Then we'll check out this Broken Quarter. From the sounds of it, we're dealing with Irmine 'the Eel' Caramillo. He's a scoundrel that preys on the vanities of women to get close and abscond with their family jewels. I'm surprised he's this far to the Southwest. He must have some sort of powerful backers."

"It would be better if you returned the coins to me here as soon as possible," the elf says, "I imagine you should be able to wrap things up by this evening, nevermind tomorrow."

"Of course, sir. Should we wrap this up quickly, we'll return your goods tonight. However, by morning we shall know for sure, and that will be at the docks." Gavrael gave the man a polite nod and turned back to the group. "The trail is getting cold. Last chance for questions and then we must be off."

Atrii nods to Gavrael. He makes a fine spokesman.

"Did the thief get away with all of your coins, or have you a sample we might examine for comparison's sake?"

"I'm afraid they were a collection," Fansherin says, "so she kept them all in the bag together. However, you'll recognise them by the mark of the wave."

[Theran]"What metal are these coins? Gold? Silver? Do they have any significance to the world apart from being an heirloom?"

Z'phir wonders if the coins would perhaps have an astral presence a companion would be able to find more quickly than simply searching the people to find the thief.

"I'm told they are copper, but I myself have never seen them and I don't know what their origin is, so I cannot speak to their wider significance."

[Theran]"Unless any of you think we can gain any more information here, let's get headed to get those coins back before the trail grows too cold."

Z'phir begins to head towards the exit.

The group ask directions and find themselves at the gate to the Broken Quarter. A few times en route Atrii was sure he spotted the same dwarf following them, red haired in a nice grey cloak, but whenever he went to mention it to his companions the dwarf was gone. Certainly nobody else saw anything.

There is a wall between the Broken Quarter and the Theran Quarter and the gate is guarded by two soldiers, both Trolls. They wear an official tabard bearing the Imperial Sunburst and are armed with no nonsense broadswords. Their focus is supposed to be mostly turned in the other direction, but they seem bored and so spot you coming.

Through the gate you can see that it does not take long for the elegance and comfort of the Theran Quarter to fade. Within forty or fifty paces of the gate the street degenerates into broken masonry, smashed bottles, and burned out buildings, the whole seasoned with piles of dung.

"Off for a stroll are we lads?" says one in accented Theran. It seems clear from his accent that this Troll's frst language is Throalic. The other troll chuckles, sounding like a bee trapped down a well.