Braddon, Phillip, and Marce approach the Publican House, the sound of laughter and revelry spilling out the open doors and the cheerful light from the window reflecting murkily off the sluggish water of the Velashu. The trio walk around to the riverfront entrance. The tavern/temple looks much as it has the other evenings the party has seen it: busy and bustling.
Marce pauses at the threshold, glancing around. "I don't see Croat's men yet. Let me slip in and tell Arnando what's going on, see if he can't clear you a table." The halfling steps in, weaving his way between the patrons with purpose, leaving Phil and Braddon to follow at a more casual pace.
"That was nice of him," Braddon comments still scanning around the publican, but with more attention focused towards the door.
"I assume we can't trust him and he must have his own reasons."
He absently fingers a sheathed dagger.
As Snake watches Tendal leave, he cuts his eyes over at Gristav a moment before looking away. "Well this has been fun," he says, the sarcasm easily obvious.
"The fun will come. We're selling it, after all. We'll have to make a batch, eventually."
"Not really sequent, but, do you intend to wait, for them, to have finished a meeting, that might send forces to Rag End, before going ourselves? You'll recall, the thought was there'd be slim motivation for movement against Rag End until first light, and we might race that well enough."
"That suits you?"
Phil gives Marce a nod before holding back from barging in. At Braddon's skepticism Phillip offers a considered "I likely trust him more than I do you Braddon..." smiling lightly to betray at least a partial jest in essence... but his eyes betraying that it's close to the truth.
Running a hand through his hair Phillip expounds "He looks out for the halflings of Riddleport, and they look out for him in return. He could've used what he knows to extort of threaten... but he's merely informed with care. Hold suspicion for the rest of those who'll be here... but I hold no suspicion for Marce" Plus, he's soft on Ethel... but no need for that to be made a beacon of explanation.
"Not really sequent, but, do you intend to wait, for them, to have finished a meeting, that might send forces to Rag End, before going ourselves? You'll recall, the thought was there'd be slim motivation for movement against Rag End until first light, and we might race that well enough."
"That suits you?"
Staring blankly at Gristav, "Are you serious? Are you really that stupid? You obviously don't realize this so I'm gonna make it real clear for you, bub: You. Can't. Be. Trusted. At all." He shakes his head in frustration, rolling his eyes. He then looks over at Thuvalia, "So, how you doin', princess?"
"Pass the berries," she instructs. "Rag's End? Isn't that in Magnimar? And not a very pleasant part of town, either."
The halfling and his strapping half-elven bodyguard garner little attention as they hesitate just inside the doorway. After some few moments have passed, Marce appears again, gesturing to the pair from halfway across the room. As they join him, he explains in a low shout that passes for a whisper in the busy tavern, "He's set Lalie to turning some lads out of their table. As quiet a corner as he can manage through to the morning room. You'll have to shout a bit, but Cayden knows it'll be a job for anyone to eavesdrop."
Braddon makes his way over to the table and takes the seat furthest from the wall. He turns it to increase his visibility and give him more space near his right elbow. He scans the area with an intense expression before leaning in to Phil and speaking just loud enough to be heard.
"Do I look menacing?"
Eulalie is still shooing a handful of sailors away with a dishrag to a chorus of hearty groans as Braddon arrives and occupies a chair. She looks at him with a touch of surprise. "Here, now," she sidles up next to him, his ear conveniently nearer her mouth now that he's seated. "You left a, er, 'package' with us this afternoon. Arnando has a word for you about it." She shoots Phil a glance, clearly not sure how much he may or may not know about Daynadrian's situation.
"He does? Excellent, I'll..."
Braddon half rises, then looks to Phillip.
"Do I have some time?"
Snake retrieves the berries, passing them to her. "You're right about that, princess, it's not a pleasant part of town at all," he says plainly, drumming his fingers on the table as he pauses and waits for this 'neat little package' to blow up in his face.
"I won't ask for the benefit of any doubt; you cannot spare it. It's you who need the scales thumbed, for leaping from battle, leaving me outnumbered, for woeful weak-wittedness when we had Kreun in a box. Still, I lament that you mistrust me, because I see by those examples how much that might cost, how close to risk we dance. And will dance again. I only question, who'll be calling the tune."
"Neither of us, is my guess."
Passing on the desert course, Gristav retires to his room.
Phil slips into a second skin of calm and control as they walk through the Publican to their table. Both choosing a seat as well as taking mental stock of the room and potential exits. At Braddon's distraction he bristles somewhat but replies "A moment, not time... it would not do well if they arrived two astride to find me seated alone..." before leaving it to Braddon to decide if Daynadrian's situation were more pressing than the half-orcs coming to potentially lynch Phillip.
Braddon fullrows his brow but soon declares, "Okay... after. May be useful if we have to leave via the back."
He turns back to Eulalie and gives her a wink.
"Thanks, Lalie. We'll be round later."
Nodding somberly Phillip agrees with Braddon's deference to his requirements. Raising a hand Phil attempts to gather attention enough from the waitstaff to see himself furnished with a port, and Braddon with whatever he wishes. After a small sip of the heady fluid the halfling pauses... then slowly removes his holy symbol of the Wasp and lays it plain and clear upon the table before him.
Snake retrieves the berries, passing them to her. "You're right about that, princess, it's not a pleasant part of town at all,"
"Then why does he want to go there?" Thuvalia asks, nodding after the departed Gristav.
"Then why does he want to go there?" Thuvalia asks, nodding after the departed Gristav.
"Because he's an idiot, that's why. I don't even try to understand him because it's just not worth it." Snake then grabs himself a mediocre helping of food just to tide himself over for the night. Looks like I'm gonna have to take care of Rag's End myself, he thinks as he takes a bite of food.
"What does he think the bodyguard's done?" she goes on, lowering her voice conspiratorially.
"Thanks, Lalie. We'll be round later."
She gives Braddon a tepid shrug before leaving them to what privacy a corner table in a crowded bar can offer. As the pair wait for Croat's representatives to arrive, a few patrons show some interest in sharing the table or borrowing the empty chairs, but a few words to the negative, combined with Braddon's bristling weaponry, are enough to warn them away.
The pair have just had time to make a bit of headway on their drinks when Marce weaves his way through the crowd into the morning room. He catches Phil's eye significantly as he sidles up to the bar with a mug of ale. Behind the halfling, two half-orcs enter the room with a confident swagger. They glance over the room for a brief moment before their eyes alight on Phillip's table with its two empty chairs.
Snake shrugs. "Who knows. If you notice with Gristav, all he does is talk in circles and say nothing. That's why I don't ask about anything he speaks on. It's pointless. But if he does have some trumped up idea in his head about the bodyguard, he won't let it go until he's completely proven wrong about it. And by the time that happens, odds are Bojasc will probably be in prison under false pretenses." Snake takes a drink and then places the mug back down. "One of these days, he's gonna mess with the wrong person and it's gonna cost him."
Keeping both hands above the table, one of which cradling his glass, Phillip indicates with his chin that the half-orcs are invited to the chairs opposite. He keeps his mouth shut as they approach and draw near, letting the half-orcs lead into and start the conversation.
Braddon is about to say something, stops and instead sits quietly beside Phillip.
He does give a friendly smile to one of the half-orcs though.
The half-orcs saunter across the morning room, casually jostling anyone who doesn't step out of their way quickly enough. The lead half-orc grabs a chair and twirls it around on one of its back legs before straddling it and sitting down, resting his muscular arms across its back. "So you're the dog biter going around cutting old lady's throats, huh?" he asks with a grin. "Why you want to do that for?"
The second half-orc is a little more circumspect. He eyes Braddon with puzzled recognition; then his gaze drops to the holy symbol on the table, and he frowns. Reversing his own chair, he elbows his companion. "Bruno, vertraag. Dit is 'n rat vanger daar, en die hond bijter het 'n teken van die hoer priesteres. Dit kan probleme wees."
Letting a slight smirk fall unto his features Phillip arcs an eyebrow "So the dog bought it as well?... Good, it was an annoying little sh1t." pausing a moment before letting the smile fade and continuing "But I was the cause of neither the throat slitting nor the canicide." keeping his words brief and allowing the half-orcs to drive the initial stages of the discussion.
Braddon rolls his eyes and turns to Phillip.
"Do, ĝi tuj estos tiel, hey? Ĉu vi parolas elf? Mi renkontis la dua ulo promenadis la konstruaĵoj ekster la areno dum iuj ludoj. Li estis supozita por esti sekureco aŭ io. Nomo estas Lucky. Aux iel simile.
Phil inclines his head as an admission of comprehension of Braddon's sidebar, but doesn't take his eyes off the arrived half-orcen muscle.
Letting a slight smirk fall unto his features Phillip arcs an eyebrow "So the dog bought it as well?... Good, it was an annoying little sh1t."
"Dog?" the half-orc possibly known as Lucky repeats blankly. "No, the dog was fine."
The other half-orc scowls at Braddon's incomprehensible speech. "What's that?" he demands. "What's he saying?"
Sighing Phillip responds "A shame then... and he's saying as much as your man did." counterpointing the half-orcs own unintelligible sidebar. "Now, I know why you're here... you know why I'm here... but I'd still like you to come out and say it... then I'll respond in kind. I've nought to hide and more likely than not will be able to help... so ask."
"We got a dead woman," the half-orc shrugs, "and witnesses that say the last thing she was complaining about was a piece of tart quitting her job to run off with her boyfriend. Now the lady in question was a unpleasant old harpy; no one's denying that. Maybe she owed your girlfriend back wages. Maybe the pair of you decided to go back and take what she was owed. Sounds a likely story, doesn't it?" He keeps his eye on Phillip as he outlines the prospective chain of events, watching for the halfling's reaction.
Keeping his reaction neutral and purposefully avoiding scoffing, smirking or any other emotive indicator Phillip responds evenly "Sounds like a lot of maybes to me... and not much else." level gaze dismissing the half-orc's view on events. Still with hands in plain view, Phil resists the urge to indulge in a character tic and offers an alternative view...
"You've got a dead woman... no one in the district cares but you need to be seen to keep up appearances. Can't have an open throatcutting left idle or people might get reticent next time someone shakes a can for black mal. You've a need to bury this quick and easy, preferably via a noose?" raising an eyebrow to see if he had the most of it thus far.
"Shame is that though what you heard was true - the shop-girl did leave, and the harpy likely was perturbed by it... that's where the truth runs dry." slippin his hand down the table to idly fidget with his Calistrian sigil.
"No one's talking about a noose," the half-orc objects to that part of Phillip's speculation. "No profit in death, unless there's someone offering blood money, and the old woman didn't have good enough or rich enough friends for that."
Both half-orcs look distinctly nervous as you handle your holy symbol.
Nodding at the half-orc's words Phillip puts his hands out and palm up "Interesting... I'm almost intrigued to ask what the harpy's worth... but that might be considered distasteful." purposefully prolonging the tete-a-tete... and specifically because the half-orcs were yet to directly accuse him of anything. He takes a glance at Braddon seeking to implore a mite more patience if he could so that the flower could unfold naturally.
Braddon listens carefully with a furrowed brow, but says nothing.
As Snake takes a bite of his food, he glances over at Thuvalia as he chews and swallows it. "So, princess, what's your story?" he asks, taking a drink to wash it down. "This place doesn't really strike me as your kinda place."
She looks surprised. "What? You haven't heard the tale of what a bad girl I am and not to be trusted?" She shrugs. "The tiefling whore, Lil Scarlet, seduced the leader of the troupe I perform with and employed him to rob the Gold Goblin. Unsurprisingly, he failed, and your compatriots killed half of my friends and imprisoned the rest in the Overlord's dungeon. Me, they offered a deal: indenture myself to Herr Vankaskerkin's casino or share the same fate. I chose servitude. At least it's still show business."
Nodding at the half-orc's words Phillip puts his hands out and palm up "Interesting... I'm almost intrigued to ask what the harpy's worth... but that might be considered distasteful."
"And I might ask how much you'd be willing to pay to make this whole thing go away," the lead half-orc smiles. "But that might be pushy."
The other half-orc gives Braddon a nervous nod of acknowledgement. "How's your cat?" he asks surreptitiously, leaning forward over the table.
Braddon leans slightly and whispers (as much as he can in the din of the bar).
"Gave it to a pretty girl. Can't remember which one. Decided rat catching wasn't for me. How's security?"
Phillip muses a moment as Braddon responds to the cat query, taking a sip of his port as he figured upon his retort. It was clear that truth was irrelevant... the only matter at hand was the potential for fallout, both for himself as well as for Croat.
Putting his port down Phil smooths out his mustache then runs the same hand through his mousy hair before continuing "A good thing neither of us has succumbed to temptation..." letting the facade fall a few moments and speaking with iron "as not a single coin is leaving my purse."
"Now as much as the dance is enjoyable I am a busy man... either ask your question or ask for my help." placing the dichotomy in place for the half-orcs to parse.
She looks surprised. "What? You haven't heard the tale of what a bad girl I am and not to be trusted?" She shrugs. "The tiefling whore, Lil Scarlet, seduced the leader of the troupe I perform with and employed him to rob the Gold Goblin. Unsurprisingly, he failed, and your compatriots killed half of my friends and imprisoned the rest in the Overlord's dungeon. Me, they offered a deal: indenture myself to Herr Vankaskerkin's casino or share the same fate. I chose servitude. At least it's still show business."
Snake shrugs, "Yeah, I heard. But everyone knows there are two sides to every coin." He picks at his food a moment before placing his fork down and rubbing his eyes. "Must be late. Either that or it's been a long day. Or possibly both. Hard to keep track anymore." He leans back in his chair, rubbing at his chin hair in silence, pondering what to do about the Rag's End issue.
"Unless it's a trick coin," Thuvalia replies knowingly. "Then it has only one side. Or three. A coin has as many sides as the fellow showing it wants it to have, if he knows what he's doing."
"How's security?"
The half-orc frowns. "Old ladies turning up dead," he reminds Braddon of the matter at hand. "It's been better."
"Now as much as the dance is enjoyable I am a busy man... either ask your question or ask for my help." placing the dichotomy in place for the half-orcs to parse.
"'Help?!'" the lead half-orc demands in disgust. "You think the Boss needs help from a knee-high dog-biter to maintain Leeward District?"
Braddon's friend hisses urgently, giving his companion another hard elbow and looking pointedly at the holy symbol on the table. "Bruno! As hy met die abdis.... Die baas nie moeilikheid hê met haar, en hy in staat kan wees om te help. Veral as sy vriendin wil wraak."
Turning sullen, the half-orc shrugs off the other's intervention but grudgingly asks, "What help? You have information about the crime? Or you looking to ride along on the investigation?"
Raising a single eyebrow and leveraging the pointed look as much as he can, Phillip lets the half-orcs draw conclusions and rolls around the name "Bruno is it..." as though he were mentally recording the moniker for future reference "I'm offering your boss nothing... the suggestion is towards you and your companion alone. This dog biter of a slip..." taking the half-orcs one racial epithet and adding his own to take all power from it's use "has some interest vested in seeing the investigation go swiftly, smoothly... and reach a just conclusion. Escorted access to the scene and the body... will likely serve both our purposes."
Shrugging mildly as though it was a middling interest and his offer to assist was more meaningful than it actually was Phillip adds "I can't see how you'd be any worse off by allowing it..."
"How's security?"
The half-orc frowns. "Old ladies turning up dead," he reminds Braddon of the matter at hand. "It's been better."
Braddon nods in agreement. "Us too, but we know who did that. If you want another, I know this landlady who..."
Braddon goes quiet as the other half-orc raises his voice at Phillip. He tenses briefly, then relaxes a little as Phillip speaks.
"We're good at finding people," Braddon offers to back up Phillip's response.
"I'm offering your boss nothing... the suggestion is towards you and your companion alone. This dog biter of a slip..." taking the half-orcs one racial epithet and adding his own to take all power from it's use "has some interest vested in seeing the investigation go swiftly, smoothly... and reach a just conclusion. Escorted access to the scene and the body... will likely serve both our purposes."
Bruno scowls, but "Lucky" gives him insistent prompting eyebrows and significant glances. "Fine," the half-orc finally growls. "But we'll be watching you. I find you trying to tamper with the evidence, we'll be bringing in both you and your girlfriend."
With a simple nod Phillip drains his port, then sweeps his holy symbol from the table - stowing it out of sight once more. As he stands he adds to Braddon "Now might a time for you to tend to Lalie's question." with a partially significant glance before he addresses Lucky and Bruno again, placing a silver coin on the table first "Have an ale on me before we head out... I'm just going to thank Marce for his troubles." pausing for a few span to allow Croat's men to make any objection that they might choose to.
"Unless it's a trick coin," Thuvalia replies knowingly. "Then it has only one side. Or three. A coin has as many sides as the fellow showing it wants it to have, if he knows what he's doing."
Turning his attention to Thuvalia as she speaks, a slight grin forms on the tall man's face. "Alright, fair enough; unless it's a trick coin." He nods.
"Now might a time for you to tend to Lalie's question."
Braddon nods, rises and makes his way out the back.
"Have an ale on me before we head out... I'm just going to thank Marce for his troubles." pausing for a few span to allow Croat's men to make any objection that they might choose to.
Bruno squints with confusion until 'Lucky' mutters something in the orcish tongue, presumably explaining who Marce is.
Marce is visible, as promised, nursing a mug of ale at the bar.
Braddon slips behind the bar into the corridor leading to the kitchen, catching Arnando's eye as he does so. After a few moments, the barkeep follows and pulls the door to, to muffle the sound from the busy tavern.
"I broke the spell," he says bluntly. "Damned if I know how I did it, and I'm so nervous about it I almost wish I hadn't. Either Shorafa's playing some kind of long game and wanted the spell broken, or I just hit the luckiest shot in my life and Cayden's having a right laugh over it. I told your friend he'd be smart not to stick around and give Shorafa a second shot at him, and he was shaken enough he didn't need telling twice. I put him in an old cloak and sent him up to Lubbertown to catch a caravan."
"I don't know if Shorafa knew all about it the moment the curse was lifted, or if she had her eye on us all along, but if there's any chance she doesn't know her spell was broken, it's safest for all of us. If she thinks she's still holding a trump card over your heads, she won't go out of her way to secure another one by attacking one of your other associates, and I don't mind admitting I want no part of a conflict between the Publican House and the House of the Silken Veil. Can I ask you to keep this matter under your hats?"