Braddon takes an obscene delight in dragging Beltias' body back down the stairs, allowing Beltias' head to thunk on step after step, before dragging the corpse outside and dumping it at the base of the tree.
"Fertiliser," Braddon explains, helping Snake to dump the other bodies there also.
He returns to Gristav. "We've just seen how safe this place is. I've already advised the General to be honest with his daughter. I'm saying nothing else. If you think you can raise her better than he has, you go tell him. Given the fact that the cleric you were going to bring him turned out to be a sadistic mass murderer I dunno how he'll view your parenting skills. Got everything?"
Braddon loads up all their loot once more and heads for the door.
"Let's get back to the Goblin and I can tell you 'No!' some more on the way."
Braddon takes an obscene delight in dragging Beltias' body back down the stairs, allowing Beltias' head to thunk on step after step, before dragging the corpse outside and dumping it at the base of the tree.
"Fertiliser," Braddon explains, helping Snake to dump the other bodies there also.
"At least he can finally serve a real purpose," Snake remarks.
"Okay, Cassey and Neena, I want you to take care of these people, alright? You are tough, kiddo, you know that? This place is now all yours. And don't forget about Padraig who is just in the other room with all his birds." Rising up, he tips his hat to her. "Nice meeting you, Cassey. I'm sure I'll be seeing you around."
The child puffs up with pride as she is addressed. "You hear that?" she tells Finnie and Micah sternly. "I'm in charge. And Neena is my capp."
A slight grin forms as Snake manages to catch the child's proclamation. That's my girl.
His voice is a shock. Where most dwarves possess a gruff growl or booming baritone, this one's voice instead comes out as a raspy wheeze, little more than a whisper. It must be the result of some sickness or injury.
He returns to Gristav. "We've just seen how safe this place is. I've already advised the General to be honest with his daughter. I'm saying nothing else. If you think you can raise her better than he has, you go tell him. Given the fact that the cleric you were going to bring him turned out to be a sadistic mass murderer I dunno how he'll view your parenting skills. Got everything?"
Quite struck, Gristav grimaced, a gloom greatly gratifying, were one wont to wish it. He did not reply, only gestured to the portable best, already in a bag.
Braddon loads up all their loot once more and heads for the door.
"Let's get back to the Goblin and I can tell you 'No!' some more on the way."
Gristav takes up the packaged fragilities he'd salv... no, let us be honest, plundered from the scene of their purge, and went with Braddon, or to the Goblin, if it was not all the same. Long minutes passed in uncharacteristic silence. But, this being Gristav, he eventually spoke, though it was a mere mutter, soft, suited for elven ears.
"Parenting skills. I've none of that. Not from the womb of the woman who bore me, not from the hand of the thing that stole me from her. I forget, Braddon. In my hoping to be better, I sometimes forget just how unfit I am, for simple decencies. How far I am, from a father, raising a child. I've no common context, and had no right to speak on the matter. I hope you'll accept, that my intentions were the common good of all."
Braddon nods.
"I accept that. So were mine when I put that dagger through that scum's back. But if we'd been wrong, my intentions would still be good and he would still be a dead good guy. I was tempted to take Ananda out, and not with the best of intent either. But seeing Gramma dead made me realise how dumb that would have been. I've gotta start being more responsible. If not for me, then you guys... and Sam."
Feeling irrationally conspicuous as they wend their way back to the Gold Goblin with their packs full of coin and valuables, the party takes the quick way along the back alley of the waterfront rather than parade their way through the busy streets of Leeward District. As they approach the casino from the south, they hear the sound of ringing hammers and workmen's voices; Cas Cazynsik's men are at work in the courtyard constructing the surface for the Varisian dancing, and the double doors at the top of the steps stand wide open, letting the morning sun spill in onto the new carpet.
Piccolo pauses a brief moment letting the dwarf digest his words, then continues,"I am quite sure my skills will allow you to turn your attention to more important matters than conversing over contracts and bills. As they say, nothing is more valuable than time. I will save you time you may use elsewhere."
You know that the Sczarni are outlawed in Riddleport proper, one of the reasons for the existence of Lubbertown outside the gates. The largest and most influential religious institution in town is the temple of Calistria, and its high priestess, Shorafa Pamodae, is a powerful member of the Council. Cleg Zincher, of course, is Saul's particular enemy and also runs the arena for blood sports.
Who are these spiders? I do not like spiders. Vicious, predatory monsters always lurking in the shadows looking for an easy meal. Better to eliminate spiders as quickly as possible, so you do not have to concern yourself with their webs."
As they make their way inside, "Where do you two want to dump this stuff that's safe from prying eyes? Don't know about you, but I don't feel like explaining how all this magically showed up."
"If you'll trust my room, and lock, and cooperation in laying future hands upon it all, that will get us back to our morning's chores soonest. Breakfast with the gnome and hound, drinks with Arnando, lunch with the General?"
"We might want whatever minutes put this magicked armor to use... But no, better for Arnando and the General, not to have enriched ourselves overmuch, and certainly, not as the origination, of our involvement."
"So, stashed in my room, for now?"
As the trio detours around the activity in the middle of the courtyard and climbs the steps to the front doors, they can see a trestle table and long benches sized for halflings being carried into Thuvalia's former dressing room. Larur is standing at the door, talking with one of the delivery men, and at his side is an unfamiliar gnome.
Snake watches the scene with interest. "Yeah, sure, bub, whatever," he responds absently as his curiosity has overtaken him. Moving over to Larur and the newcomer, "You got a second, bub? We need to talk," he tells the dwarf, glancing at the gnome as he speaks.
Piccolo studies the man carrying the furniture. Seems a common sort of working class.
Piccolo addresses the furniture mover, "What would it require to move the furniture from where it is to where Larur wishes it? It is unfortunate your employer did not inform you that the customer would require specific placement of the furniture. We do want to maintain a friendly business relationship. If you were to move that furniture to where Larur wishes it, I am sure I could see fit to tell your employer what an excellent and helpful man you are. Nothing pleases me more than to pass along a compliment that may encourage a promotion or a bonus."
Gristav gives Braddon a glance timed with Snake's assent, then goes to his room and gently settles the alchemical bits on his un-made, un-used bed.
If he finds that Braddon has followed him, as he hoped, Gris will take out the magicked set of armor, saying, "If Snake is talking with Larur, I expect I'll have time to clean, perhaps color this..."
Beginning with a thorough magickal cleaning, Gristav proceeds to darken and don the armor. "I suppose I ought thank Phillip, for clearing any question of title?", Gristav jokes grimly.
"Let's be gone. We can still claim to be making a breakfast meeting. To the Duck."
Braddon shrugs.
"Finders keepers. I wouldn't mind that pommel in the chest. Would that go on my new short sword? Well, I say new but... anyway. I'll just grab one or two of those things. For expenses. What does that token do? I'll take a few of those cures- we have plenty. And that climbing thing. I've been on roofs a bit too much of late."
"I think I'll leave that bow for now. It's a bit big to carry round the city, but if we head out again it could be useful."
Piccolo addresses the furniture mover, "What would it require to move the furniture from where it is to where Larur wishes it? It is unfortunate your employer did not inform you that the customer would require specific placement of the furniture. We do want to maintain a friendly business relationship. If you were to move that furniture to where Larur wishes it, I am sure I could see fit to tell your employer what an excellent and helpful man you are. Nothing pleases me more than to pass along a compliment that may encourage a promotion or a bonus."
The man blinks down at the gnome as he interposes himself into the discussion. "Tell you what, little man," he grins. "You want the furniture upstairs, why don't you carry it?" One of the other workmen guffaws in the background.
"You got a second, bub? We need to talk," he tells the dwarf, glancing at the gnome as he speaks.
"Eh?" the dwarf asks, dividing his scowl between the delivery man and the witch. "What about?"
Snake glances at the gnome in discussion with one of the workers before, "Not here. Let's take this to your office if you got a moment. Or I guess it can wait until...," he looks around curiously at all the furniture being moved, "until whatever you got going on here is done."
Braddon shrugs.
"Finders keepers. I wouldn't mind that pommel in the chest. Would that go on my new short sword? Well, I say new but... anyway. I'll just grab one or two of those things. For expenses. What does that token do? I'll take a few of those cures- we have plenty. And that climbing thing. I've been on roofs a bit too much of late."
"I think I'll leave that bow for now. It's a bit big to carry round the city, but if we head out again it could be useful."
"You may not have seen, I leaned on its lethality when my magics fatigued; its threat captured the chemist. I've more than a passing familiarity with such bows, having taken a sort of simple shelter in the arch of the arrow, the drop over distance. Comforting certainties in an unlinear life... It's a fine weapon, worthy of either of us, and each worthy of it, but I had thought you preferred crossbows?"
"Let's agree, it belongs with a half-elf, if perhaps not to a half-elf, today? Same might be said for the armor; I'd not play a game of dibs, or firsts... better a game of bests. I'd observed you with interest in the breastplate, too heavy for me, and Snake seemed to avoid base brawling battle, and armor, both. Though he's brave enough, and I'm certain of his aid, for all that lesser eyes might not have seen it."
"And yes, smart to have the potions with us, some at least. I'll carry a curative, and another to Snake, and force it on him. And the second climbing draught - If you've need of yours, I'd expect similar need of another."
"That all done? Shall we return to the business and busy-ness of the great room?"
Piccolo nods to Snake, he says to Larur, "This furniture deliverer is a bit of a hard head. I offer him a chance to earn extra, he returns the offer with a rude retort."
Piccolo will wait and watch how the dwarf responds. Perhaps they have a relationship that I do not understand. Best to determine what that is before using more extreme measures to bring this laborer in line. He assesses Snake, Hired muscle? He is a large one.
Snake glances at the gnome in discussion with one of the workers before, "Not here. Let's take this to your office if you got a moment. Or I guess it can wait until...," he looks around curiously at all the furniture being moved, "until whatever you got going on here is done."
"Nay," the dwarf replies, "there's no one worth talking to here." He gives the workman one last scowl, then stalks off toward his office, leaving Piccolo behind and motioning Snake to follow.
When he has entered the small, dark room, he sighs, letting his frown melt into resignation. "Damn it, we're going to have to move that extra furniture upstairs ourselves. You think the lot of you can handle it? I wouldn't count on Saul's wizard lending a hand, and the women are flat out, and the two half-elves make one whole man between them, not to talk about the whole elf who hasn't come back yet. Suppose we could get Saul to throw in Bojasc; damned sullen clod he is, but you can't deny he has muscle." He looks up at Snake. "What is it, then? Bad news of some sort, I'm guessing."
Piccolo nods to Snake, he says to Larur, "This furniture deliverer is a bit of a hard head. I offer him a chance to earn extra, he returns the offer with a rude retort."
"Extra, is it?" the man replies with new interest. "I'd see the coin before I'll do the work." He watches the gnome expectantly.
"Yeah, sure, no problem. We'll take care of it. Anyway, I'll get to the news in a moment. But for right now, I need to know if you've happen to see the Raccoon around. You know, the halfling with the mustache. He didn't happen to pass by you just recently, did he?"
"Yes, extra. I can see your employer paid for delivery to just inside the door. I imagine additional pay is in order for delivery upstairs. What might you consider a fair wage to deliver the furniture upstairs?"
"This crossbow," Braddon jerks his head at the one he took from Nathanael Weatherby hanging from his belt,"is easier to carry, is all. If you want the bow I'm happy with the heavy crossbow but again, a bit unwieldy for city work so I'll keep it in one of our rooms. As for the scribe's armour, it's pretty good but, again, big, bulky and stands out. Maybe if it wasn't gold. Who's dumb idea was that?"
Braddon shakes his head, dumps his stuff, and heads out again with Gristav, looking around for any others and maybe one in particular.
"This crossbow," Braddon jerks his head at the one he took from Nathanael Weatherby hanging from his belt,"is easier to carry, is all. If you want the bow I'm happy with the heavy crossbow but again, a bit unwieldy for city work so I'll keep it in one of our rooms. As for the scribe's armour, it's pretty good but, again, big, bulky and stands out. Maybe if it wasn't gold. Who's dumb idea was that?"
Braddon shakes his head, dumps his stuff, and heads out again with Gristav, looking around for any others and maybe one in particular.
Gristav doesn't cross-question the limit longbow's length, though he does allow himself a smile at the bastard sword, as Braddon turns. "The breastplate also bears the Scales of Abadar, I would have to guess the gold is a part of the symbology..."
"Yeah, sure, no problem. We'll take care of it. Anyway, I'll get to the news in a moment. But for right now, I need to know if you've happen to see the Raccoon around. You know, the halfling with the mustache. He didn't happen to pass by you just recently, did he?"
The mention of the halfling does nothing to quell Larur's unease. "Haven't seen him since breakfast. Didn't he leave with you?"
"Yes, extra. I can see your employer paid for delivery to just inside the door. I imagine additional pay is in order for delivery upstairs. What might you consider a fair wage to deliver the furniture upstairs?"
He turns partway around to exchange glances with the fellow he just amused, and they both draw closer to Piccolo proprietarily. "Well," he goes on in a more hushed tone, "moving heavy furniture is a job that's like to leave a man a mite parched and in want of a little refreshment, as you might say. Me and Clive here, we'll do the job for enough to wet our whistles at a tavern afterwards: say 5 coppers a head. Oh, and Mick'll help," he nods at one of his coworkers at the other end of the room. "Another five for him."
------------------------
Braddon and Gristav don't encounter anyone in the hallway of the residential wing, either on the way in or on the way out. When they return to the casino floor, Larur and Snake are nowhere to be seen, but the gnome is still conversing with Cas Cazynsik's deliverymen. Peering around the corner into the bar, they find Thuvalia perched on a stool with a glass of wine, idly watching other people work. She acknowledges them half-heartedly.
Gristav nods to Thuvalia in greeting and gestures toward the gnome, adding a questioning look.
She squints across the floor at the diminutive figure and then shrugs theatrically.
Nodding again, in acknowledgement, Gristav walks toward the negotiators, but waits for understanding, or to be acknowledged, before speaking.
The mention of the halfling does nothing to quell Larur's unease. "Haven't seen him since breakfast. Didn't he leave with you?"
Snake can only sigh. "Okay, you're gonna want to sit down for this one. By the way, how's your morning? Because ours wasn't anything to write home about. To make a long story short: We headed to Rag's end looking for a priest, we found a drug dealer and his thugs. We fought, several died - none of our own - including the priest who was the leader of 'em all. After that, Raccoon got angry with Gristav over a church or something, not real sure what that was about. You know, as far as I'm concerned, these people would be a lot better off worshiping none of them. It works for me." He finds himself getting off track before steering himself back on. "Anyway, he left vowing he would not reside in the same building as Gristav. And he left with a halfling named Chrysanthemum. Which your probably wondering how that's pertinent. Well I'll tell you - it is because the people on the other end of the drug deal is one Marzo Sczarni and that's who she's working for. So if Raccoon hasn't made his way back here, I'm willing to bet Marzo's probably got him a new member." He then places his hands in his coat as he finishes, half expecting the dwarf to either explode and/or drop dead with such news.
Piccolo appears to ponder the man's price, after a few moments he says, "That sounds a fair price. I feel working men should be rewarded for their labor. We gnomes are a generous folk. You, Clive, and Mick do the job and do it well, I will reward you with three silver coins each. For such a wage you should be able to enjoy a few cups of quality ale and a meal." He pulls out a gold coin, holds it up so the men can see it, he incants a moment (casts prestidigitation), and causes the coin to float in the air, "Shall I exchange this coin for silver or can I trust you gentlemen to see it is properly divided once the job is complete?"
Braddon watches Gristav patiently for half a heartbeat brfore becoming bored and heading upstairs in search of breakfast's leftovers.
Piccolo appears to ponder the man's price, after a few moments he says, "That sounds a fair price. I feel working men should be rewarded for their labor. We gnomes are a generous folk. You, Clive, and Mick do the job and do it well, I will reward you with three silver coins each. For such a wage you should be able to enjoy a few cups of quality ale and a meal." He pulls out a gold coin, holds it up so the men can see it, he incants a moment (casts prestidigitation), and causes the coin to float in the air, "Shall I exchange this coin for silver or can I trust you gentlemen to see it is properly divided once the job is complete?"
The men are already slack-jawed with amazement even before he releases the coin to let it hang in mid-air. "N-n-no, sir," the primary spokesman replies, hesitantly reaching for the gold piece, his superstitious fear of interfering with magic at war with his eagerness to possess the money. "Wouldn't trouble you, sir. We'll see it's all fair-like."
Having seized the coin and found that it neither burns nor vanishes, he grins at Clive once more as he secretes it away safely in his pocket. "Oi, Mick!" he calls. "This stuff goes upstairs. Lend a hand, will you?"
The hapless Mick is bewildered. "But I thought...," he begins.
"Aye, that's the trouble," the man growls back, "you thinking! Stop thinking and start doing what you're told. You ain't paid to think!"
The three men get starting moving the table and chairs and the other furniture from the room toward the kitchen staircase. Piccolo notes that a half-elf with a painstakingly cultivated beard has approached and is standing at a polite distance just over his shoulder.
Piccolo glances at the half-elf smiling, "I hope I did not seem craven making such a generous offer to some rude laborers. I have always felt that generosity can soften even the most gruff of natures. A little coin in exchange for improved manners seems a small price to pay. By the way, my name is Piccolo. It is a pleasure to see one with elven blood in this fine establishment, improves the atmosphere if I do say so myself."
Braddon watches Gristav patiently for half a heartbeat brfore becoming bored and heading upstairs in search of breakfast's leftovers.
Braddon makes it as far as the kitchen, where he spies the morning's bakery basket set on one of the work tables. Digging through the remains, he is rewarded with a choice of slightly-stale pastries. A few moments later, some of the deliverymen push their way through the swinging door with the former contents of Thuvalia's dressing room and start maneuvering them around the corners to the staircase.
"I'm Gristav.", the half-elf says, a proper bow of greeting offered in place of the handshake that would, given their divergent statures, have been awkward. "There's purer elven blood about, Daynadrian, and another two in half-caste, Braddon, just left, and Samaritha, about whom I would agree, the room brightens in her presence. I'd certainly be happy to read by her."
"And regarding 'craven', pish-tosh, it's a bravery even to go so close to underfoot, when the careless and curmudgeonly crush about. And it might be braver still, to drip the scent of coin into shark-filled waters, but I'd judge you more practiced at weighing such odds. The balance of a tool...", Gristav says, flourishing and twirling his staff single-handed, in a lithe lemniscate, "...is best left to the workman, to judge."
"Ah, and there is Thuvalia! When I asked her, she had no word on who you are. I might introduce you, but it occurs, neither do I...?"
Piccolo watches the display, "A skillful display."
"My name is Piccolo. Newly hired by Saul. A pleasure to meet you, Gristav. Do you work here or are you a customer?"
"A friend to one of the founders. I suppose the other would prefer to think of me as an employee, and I allow that as not incorrect, save for the connotation of mercenary motivation, which, truth be told, I do not entirely lack. I only feel myself, -some would say, imagine myself- more morally minded. When caprice allows!", Gristav jokes, chuckling.
"Thuvalia!", he calls, turning to the taverna, "This is Piccolo! New-hired by Saul, and a deft hand at whipping workmen. Can you bear to do without it?", Gristav jests. To them both, he explains, "Thuvalia had to mind the carpetiers, when the carpet was installed. She was kind enough to grace me with a dance- to test it, of course. Wouldn't do to imagine any frivolity...", he said, a broad grin belying the dour declaration.
"Thuvalia will lead the dances, and, well... I had heard... it was hoped... had you agreed?", he asks of Thuvalia, "To grace us with a dance en sola?"
Snake can only sigh. "Okay, you're gonna want to sit down for this one. By the way, how's your morning? Because ours wasn't anything to write home about. To make a long story short: We headed to Rag's end looking for a priest, we found a drug dealer and his thugs. We fought, several died - none of our own - including the priest who was the leader of 'em all. After that, Raccoon got angry with Gristav over a church or something, not real sure what that was about. You know, as far as I'm concerned, these people would be a lot better off worshiping none of them. It works for me." He finds himself getting off track before steering himself back on. "Anyway, he left vowing he would not reside in the same building as Gristav. And he left with a halfling named Chrysanthemum. Which your probably wondering how that's pertinent. Well I'll tell you - it is because the people on the other end of the drug deal is one Marzo Sczarni and that's who she's working for. So if Raccoon hasn't made his way back here, I'm willing to bet Marzo's probably got him a new member."
The dwarf's frown only deepens as he tries to follow Snake's narrative, a process interrupted but not halted by a start of dismay when the witch confesses his own impiety. "Sczarni? Sczarni are outlawed in Riddleport. Wait, you said he left with a woman? Probably some Calistrian affair that I'm glad isn't connected with the premises. But if you've got a complaint against the halfling, take it up with Saul; he's Saul's hire, not mine."
"Thuvalia will lead the dances, and, well... I had heard... it was hoped... had you agreed?", he asks of Thuvalia, "To grace us with a dance en sola?"
She sniffs. "If it is to be supposed that La Barabbio, the famous Chelaxian opera singer, has mastered the techniques of Varisian dance. I presume that Mr. Vankaskerkin has opted not to advertise the fact that his opening night entertainment was a fraud. What am I next week: an Ulfen shieldmaiden? a hot-blooded Mwangi savage?" She glances down at Piccolo. "Oh, yes, I remember you now: the little agent. You'll be doing the booking from now on?"
"I believe I will be negotiating contracts for performers. I was told to speak to Larur for specifics concerning my duties. Once he is done with his conversation with the other gentleman, I expect the dwarf to provide the details."
Piccolo finds a comfortable place to sit, and does so. He observes the interactions and layout of the work place.