Sarien's opening roll of 7 is quite a respectable start, although not as good as the sailor next to him who rolls a 3 or the lucky fellow two trays down who rolls a 19, knows the dealer can't match it, and immediately doubles his stake. The sailor also doubles his bet, a little more hesitantly. The rest of the dice aren't very good at all, which occasions some grumbling; no one else throws any more chips onto their pile. "All right, gentlemen," the dealer grins, shaking the three cubes in his hand, "here comes the house's roll."
The house rolls a 10, which cheers the table up considerably; no one is out, and it leaves an even margin on either side to bound the roll with. "Lucky roll for the players! Everyone's in!" the dealer announces. "You want your second die roll on the other side of 10. Bounder, bounder! Who can bound a ten? Gentlemen, roll your dice!"
The second die roll reverses the moods at the table. The sailor with the 3 is unlucky enough to match the dealer's roll and loses his stake, and Mister Nineteen down the way curses loudly as he rolls a sixteen and fails to bound the house's result. Four of the seven other players at the table win, including one who just scrapes by, rolling an eleven and a nine, and is the subject of much cheering and backslapping by his friends, and Sarien....
"Evening my lady. Of course I am not leaving. I am simply sampling the evening air. You know that I have just arrived here in Riddleport. Well I am sampling the mood of the city at night."
"How romantic." She edges a little nearer to whisper with a knowing smile, "You know, young men have been known to duck out into the starlight hoping a certain lady they wish to know better might see them go and follow after them."
Sarien keeps his mood light and picks up the dice, lightly spinning it between his fingers before he spins it up in the air and lets it drop to the table.
He grins at the result. "A success is all the more appreciated when it's narrowly earned."
Accepting the handshake Phillip responds "Phillip... though my friends call me Phil. Manners are hard, especially when you're new in town and not wantin to offend..." re-taking his seat after the handshake slowly and carefully.
Both Marce's grip and the hard look in his eye soften a bit at Phil's response. "Well, welcome to Riddleport, Phil," he replies. "It's not always a friendly town to strangers." He glances down at the lake. "The storm hasn't been smiling on either of us. Care for a drink to try to turn our luck? Ethel certainly owes you an ale, at least, and the look she gave you was as good as an invitation."
A slack jawed grin on his face "Sure enough it hasn't, and an ale sounds mighty fine" stepping away from the skiffs table and waiting for Marce to join him before speaking further.
Dropping the facade thrown up for the dealer and longshanks Phillip shows some respect "You've a fine hand with skiffs Marce, much finer than that of one such as myself." before setting a copper chit to dance in his right hand.
Sleight of Hand:
Sarien keeps his mood light and picks up the dice, lightly spinning it between his fingers before he spins it up in the air and lets it drop to the table.
He grins at the result. "A success is all the more appreciated when it's narrowly earned."
"The table's lucky!" the dealer proclaims to the crowd, as he pays out chips to the five winning players, including four blue chips to Sarien. "Step up before the luck turns!" Less successful gamblers from some of the other tables turn their heads at the announcement, and the other four winners quickly slap down chips out of their winnings to lay claim their own lucky spots at the table before anyone else can.
In the meantime, Braddon and Malkith emerge onto the casino floor from the darkened guest wing to find Saul striding toward them. He waves his hand at Braddon while more surreptitiously meeting Malkith's eye and nodding him toward them. "We've heard rumors," he tells them in a low voice, "of a possible threat. The elf's watching the back door, and Tendal's gone out front; I need the eyes of the two of you on the crowd in here. Look alive, boys, for anything out of the ordinary."
Dropping the facade thrown up for the dealer and longshanks Phillip shows some respect "You've a fine hand with skiffs Marce, much finer than that of one such as myself." before setting a copper chit to dance in his right hand.
"It's a pleasant little diversion," Marce shrugs off the compliment, but Phillip catches a spark of gratified pride in the halfling's eye. "Pigs and chickens, eh?" he asks wryly, watching Phil's fingers expertly manipulate the chip. "I suppose you learned to do that pitching hay. Come on, let's find the girls." He weaves through the taller people's legs, heading for the bar. "Ethel!" he calls indignantly as she and her friends come in sight. "I think you owe this man a drink." Flipping a silver coin up onto the bar, he commands, "Covey, an ale! And one for my friend Phil; the lady's paying for his." Marce introduces Phillip around to the group of halflings while he waits for his drink.
"Phillip, is it?" Ethel smiles teasingly, producing the coins to buy Phil's ale. "Mighty forward, tipping the skiffs a girl's way before you even know her name."
Phil disappears the chip after Marce has seen it dance and gives him a smirk before following slalom like through the legs of the longshanks and to the bar. He gives the other halflings a nod and raised hand in turn before it comes to Ethel.
Phil offers Ethel a courtly bow "I see that Milady did not refuse the gesture..." before setting a mischevous and twinkling gaze upon her as he accepts the ale. "Phillip it is indeed, Ethel... and I find that forwardness oft cuts through to the core of the matter no?"
What can this woman want? I bet she thinks that I am the heir to some fortune or other...how to disabuse her of such notions...
"I have certainly never found that technique to work that well." Tendal says, with a seeming forlorn sigh. "The only woman who ever attempted that with me was Riala. Unfortunately it turned out that she was simply a gold-digger, attempting to marry her way into family fortune. I will certainly be on the lookout for women throwing themselves at me in the future, you mark my words." Tendal says, thumping his cane on the railing for emphasis.
"So what brings you out here my lady? Was it too warm in there for you?"
"We've heard rumors," he tells them in a low voice, "of a possible threat. The elf's watching the back door, and Tendal's gone out front; I need the eyes of the two of you on the crowd in here. Look alive, boys, for anything out of the ordinary."
"Okay, Boss.
No trouble yet except Carl Balket sneaking off to the statue of Desna. If you want gamblers making offerings to her, you might want to move her onto the floor or open up that area a bit next time."
Turning to Braddon, he says, "I'll linger around here, if you want to make a sweep of the other side of the hall, towards the cashier's office and counting room."
Saul waves his hand dismissively. "A street kid overheard some of Zincher's men saying that there'd be trouble here tonight. Nothing concrete. If it's Zincher's men, it won't be subtle; they're not known for their finesse. But if they slip past those watching outside, we'll want to isolate them inside, keep any unpleasantness away from the crowd. Try to draw them into one of the side rooms or down the residential hall, somewhere where a little roughness won't start a panic." He slaps Braddon on the arm with a grin. "Like the way you think, lad. We make it through the night still in business, maybe we could even look into hiring on a keeper and making an official shrine. There's lots of folks willing to choke out a few extra coins if they think it'll give them an edge at the table. For tonight, though, try to keep it clear. We don't have the staff to keep an eye on that hallway, especially with a threat in the air."
"I have certainly never found that technique to work that well." Tendal says, with a seeming forlorn sigh. "The only woman who ever attempted that with me was Riala. Unfortunately it turned out that she was simply a gold-digger, attempting to marry her way into family fortune. I will certainly be on the lookout for women throwing themselves at me in the future, you mark my words." Tendal says, thumping his cane on the railing for emphasis.
"So what brings you out here my lady? Was it too warm in there for you?"
"Too warm, too close, too stuffy," she shrugs, leaning against the railing, "and Galen's at the golem table and won't look up until he's out of chips in the wee hours of the morning." She lets her artifice drop for a moment as she offers Tendal a wry smile; without her arch expression and fluttering lashes, she is merely a somewhat disappointed woman, perhaps a bit past her prime but little the worse for it. "There's only so many evenings a girl can spend standing by a man's elbow all night looking decorative and acting interested."
"Do you think any of Shorafa's people could already be in the kitchen? But regardless, I'll stop anyone from going in or out, and keep an eye on those already there. We should also let the rest of your security know what's up, and to keep their eyes on the front for when trouble does arrive. By the way, do you have a lock and key for the backdoor Saul?"Saul riffles through his key ring. "Larur has a copy in his office, too. Suppose it's a good idea that you're able to lock the door if you see trouble headed in that way." He hands over the key and reflects a moment as he rubs the back of his neck. "Only person in that kitchen I don't know where their loyalties lie," he frowns, "is the red-headed Varisian half-elf your friends vouched for this afternoon." He gives Daynadrian a hard look. "She certainly looks like the type who'd be working for Shorafa. How much do you actually know about her?"
Dayn takes the key, tucking it safely away in a pocket as he thinks. After a few moments he responds "Hmm, well I don't know her, at all. Yet she didn't strike me at all as the duplicitous type. Which either means that she's not, or that she's very good at her job. One thing perhaps in her favour though is that working in the kitchens wasn't her idea or request at all. I believe that was your idea, no? Anyway, I'll keep a close eye on her. Shouldn't be too hard, the way she looks." he finishes with a grin and a slap on Saul's shoulder.
Unsurprised that the dandy has nothing useful to add, Dayn gives Saul's shoulder a squeeze and looks him straight in the eye as he says "I've got your back covered, 'Boss', so no worries on that end. See you soon." and then heads straight for the kitchens.
Once there, he stands at the door and takes a general survey of the room, taking the time to careful check out each and every kitchen worker, seeing if any of them appear particularly uncomfortable with his scrutiny. If no one approaches or speaks to him, he then makes his way to the back door, looking out and carefully checking everywhere around it. He also tries to see if he can view the place spy the place his young lookout is watching from. After which he positions himself in such a way that he can both see out of the door and the full (or as much as he can) kitchen at the same time.
Phil offers Ethel a courtly bow "I see that Milady did not refuse the gesture..." before setting a mischevous and twinkling gaze upon her as he accepts the ale. "Phillip it is indeed, Ethel... and I find that forwardness oft cuts through to the core of the matter no?"
Marce's expression sours a little as Phillip renews his attentions to Ethel; he sips his ale while the other girls giggle.
"Make a habit of meeting women this way, do you?" she teases. "What are you, a rounding skiffs hustler with a sadder but wiser girl and a mob of angry longshanks left behind in every port of call?"
Smile remaining but the signs of flirtation fading to be replaced with a more meaningful tone "No... but I do make a habit of meeting friends this way. The storm was tipped by way of extending a hand in greeting. Had you taken the money and moved away, then I would have paid a cheap price to see your nature. But you have not..." turning to face Marce so that the skiff's player knows that the last statement is mostly directed at him "...the hand was taken and one hopes that friendship will follow."
"I think you'll find," Marce says, setting his tankard down with a decided clink, "that halflings look out for one another in Riddleport. Leastways, that's what I hope you'll find. Our people have enough problems with the longshanks without worrying one of our own will stab us in the back. We pay our debts," he nods to the mug of ale in Phillip's hand, "and we don't mind owing a man a favor when he needs it, expecting he'll do us a good turn someday if the opportunity presents itself."
"What the self-appointed Lord Mayor over there is trying to say," Ethel cuts in with a smirk, "is, 'pleased to meet you, Phil, have a drink and a seat and make yourself at home.'"
Well, that is interesting. Candor is a beast very rarely seen.
"I can agree with that, while being decorative has rewards, it may be unfulfilling at times. So what do you find interesting Lady Krump, if you don't mind me asking? You wouldn't happen to be the mastermind behind Master Krump's business?" Tendal asks, teasing lightly.
Sense Motive on if she's telling truth or seems to have anything to hide:
Perception to see if anything else seems amiss:
Dayn spends a moment scrutinizing the Elf maiden, trying to determine if she is what she appears to be. Deciding to believe her for the moment, he says in a calming voice "Don't worry, it will all be ok. How long ago did they leave? Start doing whatever you know how to do. I'll take care of those lazy wenches in the break room."
After waiting a tic to see if Samaritha responds to and obeys his commands, Dayn then then makes his way to the back door, looking out and carefully checking everywhere around it and seeing if the cooks are anywhere to be seen. He also tries to see if he can view the place spy the place his young lookout is watching from. After which he then locks the door and heads straight for the break room.
Bursting in quickly he roars at the top of his voice "By Cayden's Hoary NutSack! What the blazes are you lazy sows doing in here?? If by the count of Three you aren't all off your massive posteriors and in that kitchen working your fingers to the bone I'll see every last one of you sent home penniless and with a sore behind from the flat of my blade for your trouble! Now MOVE!" and as he finishes he draws his sword and slams the flat of it against the wall as hard as he can for emphasis. Intimidate:
As the half-elf runs on nervously, you cross to the back door. The narrow alley between the Gold Goblin and the row of warehouses is dark; few lamps seem lit westward in the River District, but you can see the pool of light from the streetlamp on the road to the north. The area seems deserted. Stepping just outside and peering down the long northern wall of the building, you can see the road that leads to the courtyard and front doors of the casino, but if Finian is out there where you left him, he is hidden well enough that you can't see him from this distance, even with your keen elven vision.
You stride into the cramped sitting room where the local Riddleport girls are relaxing with plates of cake and are rewarded by the sight of their eyes flying wide open in alarm as you lay into them. One has a mouthful of cake she practically chokes on as you slam your blade against the stone wall. They all drop their plates and scurry quickly back into the kitchen in fright; one is brave enough to scowl over her shoulder at you, but it doesn't keep her from obeying. Back in the kitchen, Samaritha stares at you with wide eyes, almost as intimidated by your loud outburst as the Riddleport teenagers, but as they resentfully return to slicing cake and preparing hors d'oeuvres, she offers you a timid smile of gratitude.
"I can agree with that, while being decorative has rewards, it may be unfulfilling at times. So what do you find interesting Lady Krump, if you don't mind me asking? You wouldn't happen to be the mastermind behind Master Krump's business?" Tendal asks, teasing lightly.
"What? The tannery?" she snorts. "Haven't a thing to do with it. Nasty, smelly place. He reeks of it when he comes home at night; it's why I insist he keep me in perfume. No, the tannery far predates me. I'm not his first wife, you know." This hardly comes as a surprise; the tannery owner appeared at least a few decades older than his female companion when they were introduced. "His sons think I'm after the business; they're convinced I'm scheming to get my hands on the deed when he dies, when really I wish he'd just give it up and hand it over to them now. I'd love to have some free time to travel instead of sitting around the house while he's at the tannery all day. I- I've always wanted to see Magnimar," she concludes a little shyly.
"I think you'll find," Marce says, setting his tankard down with a decided clink, "that halflings look out for one another in Riddleport."
Phillip raises his mug and takes a shallow draught from it by way of approval of Marce's words. "Fairly said and well received... so asides from Marce and Ethel... might I be blessed with the rest of your monikers?"
Malkith makes another visual sweep of the casino floor before separating himself from Saul and Braddon. He takes a moment to duck back behind the curtain to give the statue of Desna his own inspection.
He then begins to make his way towards the bar, maneuvering around the patrons there as he picks up snippets of conversation.
Tendal smiles gently. "Well when I have a chance I may take up such a discussion with your husband. I don't see any reason why he cannot step back to a senior managment position and let his sons start getting their feet wet. That way he doesn't give up all control, but he can start planning for the future." Tendal says.
"As for Magnimar, it certainly has its charms. Its a big enough city that you can get swallowed up in the crowd quite easily. It is also both poorer and richer than Riddleport with more excess and more wretched souls. But it is vibrant and alive like few other places I have seen." Tendal continues, a wistful note in his voice.
"I recommend that you take the time to see all the monuments if you go there. It is said that if you pray properly at a monument, you will recieve a blessing. I personnaly have not experienced such, but I imagine that it might be quite entertaining to visit each in turn in the persuit of such boons."
Turning to Braddon, he says, "I'll linger around here, if you want to make a sweep of the other side of the hall, towards the cashier's office and counting room."
Braddon nods at Malkith's suggestion and starts off through the crowd. He keeps an eye out for the other Hellknights, copying their behaviour. He also veers towards the nearest one on the way, chats idly for a second swapping positions with him, then continues off in the direction the other had been going before resuming his own path.
Braddon and Malkith continue their rounds of the casino floor, weaving through the knots of people standing around the tables. Business seems reasonably good: none of the dealers are going begging for customers, but neither is the crowd so large that people are getting impatient waiting for a slot to open up for them to place their bets. Malkith notes a small group of halflings having a round of ales and recognizes among them the halfling who was seated at the bar at the Publican House that morning. The conversations he overhears are mostly upbeat; the casino has been open for some time now without Zincher's men crashing the party, and the consensus now seems to be that the threat was overblown. Unfortunately for Malkith, Carl Balket had a run of luck at the ghoulette table after he was chased out of the darkened room and, pious man that he is, attributed his good fortune to the offering he made to Desna. Soon, a few other gamblers are peeking over their shoulders for anyone who looks like an employee before ducking back into the anteroom to whisper a prayer and leave a chip.
At the opposite side of the floor, Braddon refuses to be cowed by the fact that the Varisian Hellknight he speaks to doesn't deign to reply; he uses the opportunity to confuse anyone watching him by swapping with his doppelganger like a confidence man running a shell game on a street corner. The waiting area in front of the cashier's cage is nearly deserted now, with most of the customers having purchased their chips and few yet ready to cash out and head home. The dwarf Larur Felden is loitering nervously in front of the door to his office. He peers at what he can see of Braddon's face beneath the helmet, then lowers his gaze to the exposed chest. "It's you, the half-elf," he successfully recognizes Braddon. "What's going on out there? Any trouble?"
Phillip raises his mug and takes a shallow draught from it by way of approval of Marce's words. "Fairly said and well received... so asides from Marce and Ethel... might I be blessed with the rest of your monikers?"
Ethel's friends are Almah and Maddy, and the men are Olin and Ewart. The girls work in shops in Leeward District, while Olin and Ewart have jobs at the shipyard. "Well," Marce announces, draining the last of his ale and setting the mug down with a resounding clank, "I'm for the lake again. Will you join me for some skiffs, Phil, or is the company here too pleasant for me to tempt you away?"
Meanwhile, out front on the veranda, Desiree seems to note the wistful tone in Tendal's voice. "You sound as though you miss the city," she notes. "I don't mean to pry, but what made you leave Magnimar in the first place?" As she is speaking, Tendal can see a man climbing the stairs to the casino entrance behind her, his gaze turned in their direction with an inquisitive leer. At the top of the stairs, he turns and with a few quiet steps is behind her; before Tendal can speak, he grabs her around the waist, and she screams in surprise.
"Desiree!" the newcomer drawls. "It's been a while. Tired of your husband already, are you? Can't say we didn't tell you so. Who's your new friend?" His eyes linger on Tendal appraisingly.
"Oliver!" she rounds on him, pushing her way out of his grasp, her voice sharp with anger and alarm. "What are you doing here?"
"Maybe I just came to see Stumpy's new casino," he shrugs familiarly, oozing past her to extend a hand to Tendal. "Oliver Bott," he introduces himself. "Desy here isn't going to introduce me; doesn't want to share. You're new in town, aren't you?" Oliver has hair so blond it is almost white, and the tips of his ears showing through it have an almost-elvish point, but in the dim light, his eyes have a faint glow like a smoldering campfire that's emphatically not elven.
Phillip makes idle conversation and gives over only that he is recently arrived and yet to find his feet. He is attentive to Ethel and returns words given in the same playfulness - but does not ignore the rest of the folk. As Marce declares, Phil sets his own tankard back down upon the table and nods "Aye, I've a mind to try my luck again..." getting down from the table "Ladies, gents" following after to add for Marce alone "Just say the word if you want my fleet to sail against the wind."
Tendal looks down at the offered hand for a bare second before looking up at the man standing before him.
"Mister Bott. I would say it is a pleasure to meet you, but seeing as you have accosted and manhandled a married woman in my presence, I do not believe that platitude will slip convincingly off of my tounge. You may have my name however, I am Tendal Deverin, recently arrived in your fair town."
"As her husband is currently occupied inside, I will have to do the honors and ask that you either apologize to Madame Krump or remove yourself from her presence."
Could this rogue be the person who is coming to disrupt the casino?, Tendal thinks, and he glances past Bott to the street, looking for a hint of a threat.
"Oh, he's a peach, ain't he, Des?" Oliver withdraws his unshaken hand without a hint of embarrassment, still smiling at Tendal. "Not to worry, Mr. Deverin. My business is inside; running into Desy here was just a happy accident. And don't worry your pretty little head, Des," he finally turns his attention back to the blushing woman who is miserably trying both to maintain her dignity and to pretend he isn't there by staring at the ground on the other side of her. "If I should happen to bump into Galen in there, I won't say a word about your gentleman friend. You know whose side I'm on." With a grin at Tendal and a hand dropped rather heavily on Desiree's shoulder in farewell, he turns away and heads through the doorway between the half-orc sentinels.
Phillip makes idle conversation and gives over only that he is recently arrived and yet to find his feet. He is attentive to Ethel and returns words given in the same playfulness - but does not ignore the rest of the folk. As Marce declares, Phil sets his own tankard back down upon the table and nods "Aye, I've a mind to try my luck again..." getting down from the table "Ladies, gents" following after to add for Marce alone "Just say the word if you want my fleet to sail against the wind."
Marce smiles. "I wouldn't say no to at least breaking even on the evening. And of course, we'll do our best to win back your investment in meeting Ethel, too. Not that her good regard isn't worth a few silver, but in my experience, coins jingle more pleasantly in a pocket nearer the ground. It'll be the luck of the lay; whoever has a shorter course to victory can count on the other's wind in his sails. Unless one of the other girls wants to try her hand, of course."
The dwarf Larur Felden is loitering nervously in front of the door to his office. He peers at what he can see of Braddon's face beneath the helmet, then lowers his gaze to the exposed chest. "It's you, the half-elf," he successfully recognizes Braddon. "What's going on out there? Any trouble?"
"Saul overheard that someone overheard some kids overheard Zincher's boys saying they'll drop in. Shouldn't be hard to handle. We'll just quietly take them out of sight and beat them senseless." Braddon grins and flexes his knuckles.
"And I don't like the look of the other Hellknights. They're quiet, secretive, all know each other and don't mix with the other staff. Though Saul has the front and rear watched for trouble."
Phillip nods as they walk "Aye a fair way to it." Once back at the table, Phil pays Marce little attention overtly - instead maintaining his apparent farm yokel persona. Any of the girls that arrive for a game are given a knowing wink, though he refrains from any table talk with them.
While the storms rage, Phil keeps his eyes around for any major developments... but he also knows that the most of the opportunities will come late in the piece when pipes are appropriately lubricated.
"Saul overheard that someone overheard some kids overheard Zincher's boys saying they'll drop in. Shouldn't be hard to handle. We'll just quietly take them out of sight and beat them senseless." Braddon grins and flexes his knuckles.
"And I don't like the look of the other Hellknights. They're quiet, secretive, all know each other and don't mix with the other staff. Though Saul has the front and rear watched for trouble."
Larur's fidgeting anxiety becomes more pronounced now that Braddon has given him something concrete to worry about. "I admire your confidence and fighting spirit, lad," he rasps dryly, "but Zincher's men don't have any fancy elf blood in them to make them ... er, svelte." The glance he gives Braddon's exposed chest indicates the word he was probably looking for was 'scrawny,' but he managed to be polite. He moves closer to the floor itself, and his eyes search it for any objectionably familiar faces. His gaze lingers on the other Hellknights visible among the crowd. "Damned cattle," he mutters, his ruined voice barely audible. "Could be Sczarni. They say Saul once ... but that was years ago. Try to keep an eye on them, lad. Saul may have eyes on the lookout for Zincher's men, but it's only you and me concerned about the Varisians."
Returning to the table, Phillip is able to take the very first storm with Marce's collusion. "There, Phil," he smiles across the lake. "Told you a drink would change your luck." The next storm, Maddy buys into the game, and both Phillip and Marce work to tip the skiffs her way -- though in truth, she most likely could have won without their help; she seems a canny admiral. The third game, Phil intends to see Marce victorious, but the storm deals him a truly horrible lay; it's quickly obvious that he hasn't a chance, so Phil is able to claim a minor victory, though the battle is hard-fought and the payoff smaller than his first win. It's not until the fourth round of skiffs that Marce finally takes the storm. Smiling in satisfaction, he rattles the wooden chits in his hand. "They'll sound better when I've exchanged them for something that jingles," he admits. "Believe I'll cash out and head home while I'm in the black, see if the girls need an escort. Phil, you have someplace to stay tonight?"
Skiffs, being a tactical enterprise, takes a longer time to resolve than the other games on offer. It has been well more than an hour since Phillip arrived, and the crowd has gotten comfortable. The house, undoubtedly knowing that inebriated gamblers take more risks, offers the cheapest ale at a discount if it's paid for with red chips instead of copper coins, and the crowd at the ghoulette table, which has the lowest minimum stake and requires no skill at all, has grown raucous. The golem players, in contrast, knowing their success depends on their skill and discipline, are carefully nursing goblets of wine.
Phil smiles as all involved take away more than they arrived with, most importantly Phillip himself - who now has a friendly connection to the local halfling community. He congratulates Marce, but declines the accommodation... for now. "Well played all around it would seem... and the offer is well heard and received, but I've a mind to hang around a while longer yet." Phil then follows Marce back to where the girls, Olin and Ewart are seated. He gives Ethel a wink and lets a blue chip dance across his knuckles as he joins them.
He waits to hear if the girls and other guys are staying or leaving...
"Could be Sczarni. They say Saul once ... but that was years ago. Try to keep an eye on them, lad. Saul may have eyes on the lookout for Zincher's men, but it's only you and me concerned about the Varisians."
"Maybe we can get these Zany's to fight Zincher's men.
Braddon shrugs. "No difference. I'll break whoever you want. Don't worry- I've had my eye on them a while. I'm ready for anything."Braddon swaggers back out onto the floor, eyes everywhere with the hint of a smile on his lips.
As he circulates, Malkith takes note of anyone stepping away from the casino floor in search of Desna's effigy and that they return in a reasonably short period of time, but does not directly interfere. He occasionally ducks back there himself to ensure that nothing more sinister than some drunken prayers and mundane offerings are being left. Respectful of the patrons' faith - as alcohol induced as it may be - the Varisian leaves the offerings alone.
As his path crosses with that of the uniformed security, Malkith stops a Hellknight to make him aware of the situation, "It's my understanding that the area back there is off limits. You should keep an eye out as I've noticed a number of patrons wandering around back there."
"Maybe we can get these Zany's to fight Zincher's men.
Braddon shrugs. "No difference. I'll break whoever you want. Don't worry- I've had my eye on them a while. I'm ready for anything."
"That would be something," Larur rasps with a chuckle at Braddon's suggestion of turning two possible enemies against each other. "If they are Sczarni, the one good thing is they're not allied with any of the crimelords that I'm aware of -- and the Overlord won't sanction them acting outside Lubbertown, so the Gendarmes might actually report to give us a hand instead of leaving us swinging in the breeze if they're here to cause trouble."
As his path crosses with that of the uniformed security, Malkith stops a Hellknight to make him aware of the situation, "It's my understanding that the area back there is off limits. You should keep an eye out as I've noticed a number of patrons wandering around back there."
The Hellknight starts to brush past him rudely, but his obvious ethnicity gives the costumed man pause. "Nor zara zu? Vili Vittiri?" he responds in Varisian. "Norbaitek lapurtu nahi esku bat gako gizona bada, begiratu zion bere buruari. Me ordaintzen zuen ergela bat bezala janzteko, ez bere jabetzak babesteko. Jakintsua bada, zure karabana izango duzu joera eta ez besteen Zoritxarren aurrean negar egiteko." Having delivered that advice, he continues on his path around the room, paying no attention to Desna's grotto.
Nothing more untoward than desperate gamblers petitioning the goddess of luck seems to be going on until some time later, when Malkith notices two figures stealthily slipping into the dark room who fail to re-emerge in a timely fashion. Curious, he moves over to the counter separating the residential wing from the floor and leans against it, as if simply taking a break from the tables. Glancing over his shoulder into Desna's chamber, he finds that it appears to be empty; the two figures he knows he saw enter are nowhere to be seen.
Oliver Bott's interruption has altered Mistress Krump's mood. Where she was open and natural, she is now nervous and evasive, avoiding Tendal's gaze as if afraid of the questions she may find there. "Mr. Deverin, I find it's grown a bit chilly out here," she stammers with a weak smile. "I thank you for your description of Magnimar, but I ought really to get back to my husband; he'll be wondering where I've gone." She excuses herself to move back through the double doors the brazen tiefling entered moments ago.
"Goodnight then Madame Krump. I wish you all the best." Tendal says as the woman ducks back inside.
I know there is a story there, but I doubt it is anything consequential to this evening. On the other hand "my business is inside?" Perhaps I should let Saul know first...[/b]
Tendal turns to the guards, nods at them and heads back inside.
[i]So, where is Bott, and where is Vankaskerkin? Tendal thinks as he steps back inside to the din and warmth of the casino floor, his eyes tracking across the crowd.
Tendal can't immediately spy Oliver Bott among the crowd pressing around the tables, but he does see Saul standing in the doorway of one of the private rooms, speaking amicably with some customers within.
Meanwhile, near the bar, Marce and Phillip rejoin the other halflings. "Calling it an evening, ladies and gents," Marce announces. "They expect me to report to work in the morning, and while the skiffs were rewarding, they weren't lucrative enough that I can give up my job and live a life of ease. If any of you ladies are about ready to head home, I'd be honored to see you safe to your door."
Both the other girls automatically glance at Ethel, who is watching the blue chip dance through Phillip's fingers. "Think I'll stay a while longer," she replies, glancing up at Phil. Almah accepts Marce's offer of an escort home, but Maddy wants to try her luck at skiffs again. Olin and Ewart still have full mugs of ale they intend to finish at their leisure and assure Marce they'll offer the other two girls a walk home when they're ready to leave.
Marce's eyes narrow a bit when Ethel refuses his overture, but he wishes her and Maddy good night amicably. "Olin, Ewart, I'll expect to see you in the morning. Don't drink so much I have to come roust you out of bed. Phil," he turns to extend his hand, "well met. If you find yourself in need of a reference or a place to stay, look me up. There's skiffs every night of the week in the Free Coin district." He offers Almah his arm before heading to the cashier's cage to cash out his chips.
Sarien keeps his humor light as he tosses the dice and watches the other gamblers, keeping a wary eye out for cheaters and anyone who might be planning something that'd put him in an uncomfortable position.
Try as he might, Sarien is unable to replicate the beginner's luck he achieved on his first dice -- at least consistently. Down eleven blue chips, he is beginning to wonder about the other games on offer at the Gold Goblin.
From his vantage point at the table near the doors, he observes that, while the flow of new patrons into the casino has slowed considerably, neither is there a noticeable egress; most people are either doing well enough to let their luck ride or are optimistic enough to believe that it's about to turn.
As for the employees of the Gold Goblin, the half-orcs at the door seem seem suitably forbidding, and the circulating "Hellknights" give off an unfriendly air, although Sarien's not certain if the swords in their scabbards are real or only wooden. He hasn't seen the red-headed half-elf and wonders if she got turned down for the job she seemed so desperate for. Phillip he has lost track of; last he saw of him across the crowded room, he was conversing with a group of other halflings. As he stands, debating whether to try his luck elsewhere, an uncanny man with white hair despite a youthful face comes through the door with a smirk, followed shortly after by a matron in fine clothes and a worried look on her face. A few moments after she disappears into the crowd, the haughty man who was so discomited by the tiefling this morning at the Publican House steps in, runs his eyes over the room, and then heads across the floor with purpose in his step.
Malkith strains to spot the two men from his position at the counter. Unsuccessful, he turns to look about the casino for Saul, Braddon or another familiar face for assistance. The Varisian makes a gesture for them to join him at the counter. With another glance about the floor, he once again slips into the back.
Malkith carefully makes his way past the likeness of Desna and back towards the private rooms, attempting to listen for any indication of where the two men might have gone.
Both the other girls automatically glance at Ethel, who is watching the blue chip dance through Phillip's fingers. "Think I'll stay a while longer," she replies, glancing up at Phil.
...
"If you find yourself in need of a reference or a place to stay, look me up."
With a smile, Phillip offers Marce "I will at that Marce, a pleasure it's been... Almah" tipping an imaginary hat to the halfling lass as she departs, and giving Marce a firm handshake.
Turning back to the table, he smiles up at Ethel "It would appear that I'm lacking a beverage... would you do me the honor of accompanying me to the bar?" making it fairly obvious that while the bar is but a short distance away... what he would prefer is the chance to speak with Ethel alone for a few moments at least. He palms the dancing blue chip and offers her the crook of his arm in a rudimentary gentleman-like gesture.
"Afraid you'll get lost in a new town, are you?" Ethel smiles at Phil, accepting his arm and invitation.
When Braddon glances back at the entrance to the guest rooms, he catches Malkith's eye, then veers across the floor towards him. He briefly scans the crowd to see where the other Hellknights are then, without breaking stride, he plunges into the darkness behind the counter. Out of sight, he stops and studies the area with his low light vision, wondering what's going on.
Phil steps away from the other halflings with Ethel upon his arm and swerves away from the bar to take her on a slightly more circuitous path that would allow for a longer chance to talk. With a slight sigh and a mental girding of loins, he opens up but a touch "It's been a fine and successful evening so far don't you agree? ... and so it's with some hesitation that I continue, but I feel I must."
Walking a few more steps in silence, he then adds "I came here tonight in search of opportunity... the sort of chance that might come with danger and the threat of a bloated body found swelled by rot under the docks." allowing his bluntness to wash over her before continuing "I would like to get to know you better Ethel, and your friends also... but I would not see you opened to the same risk that I take myself."
"So I beg you, allow me to share a drink and talk with you a while... but please accept Olin and Ewart's escort home when they offer it next." Stopping and turning to face her Phil places his right hand on her left where it is threaded through the crook of his elbow, and awaits her response...