"It was really creepy. And now I'm working for Boss Croat as well as all the other bosses. Kind of. Ooh, left overs."
Braddon descends on the dinner table remains.
"So just - dead?", Gristav asks, unpackaging the remains of the meal toward Braddon, "And no clue to motive?" Braddon's motive was clear.
"Well, I still have motive toward RotGut, in the person of a dwarven alchemist. Also, while we can be glad circumstances point away from you and your folk, is there still need to warn the Rag's End folk, to hide them ahead of half-orc huntsmen?"
Shrugging "Depends on whether Betta told anyone about the tall hatted gentleman who visited with the folk covered in bloody rags... I know Miss Braum only told me." referring to Serpe's visit to purchase clothes "And aye, just dead... it seems." not really able to expound much beyond that.
"A broken neck, is at least quick. We can hope she didn't suffer. The chewing was after? There'd be more blood, if it was before..."
"I've my own need to go to RotGut, including Rag's End, or not. I'll take or give whatever company I might, but I'd rather sooner. I've just judged, I'm unlikely to sleep until I have been and returned. Too many questions, Larur still out-of-pocket, and some clue may wait there..."
"Daynadrian still where he was?"
"Yuf. He'f fafe."
Braddon swallows. "No motive. The murderer wasn't human, I don't think. No sign of passage in or out. She was having tea and biscuits, probably sitting. Heard something behind her- maybe in her room or on the stair and rose to investigate. Made it a step before it bit her throat, strangling her cries, then snapped her neck. Left without taking anything, apparently. She had a dog. It lived for some reason but didn't make any noise until this afternoon. Real strange."
Braddon searches for an ale to comfort himself.
"An animal may have sharper senses, but often their wills are inferior. As often, their reason is more right... It may have been charmed, or simply cowed. Silence, suggests the charm. Frightened, one would have expected an alarum of barks. Is it a barking breed? Some do not..."
"How much blood at the scene? I trust your tracker's sense, for what happened; have you any sense for how much blood was left in her? Of things that charm, and take blood, the list is not long. At least, not of my learning."
"Might it have been the neck was broken first, and then the blood taken? Or that the frustrated hound..." Gristav grinned, and growled, and grimaced, tossed his head in gallows geste, but caught himself, and sobering, finished, "...tried to wake her up? A proper measurement, fang to fang, might tell that tale. Share an apple with Phillip, or even Snake, sometime, and you'll see what I imply."
"Another riddle, for the 'port."
"Not to change the subject, for I expect we might come back to it, but would any of you agree to join me for RotGut, if not Rag End? A clue from Saul, on where Larur may have gone, and I'll rest better, better than not at all, if I've followed it."
"Discuss it; I'll fetch some ales."
Phillip tenses slightly before Braddon responds to the query on Daynadrian, but relaxes after the response is heard. To the metaphorical avalanche of questions that pour from Gristav thereafter he merely raises a tired eyebrow before sharing a knowing glance with Serpe. Eyes still on the Roderic's Cove escapee Phil answers in a way "Go, fetch ales if you like... but I'll not be here for the sharing of them. I'm for my bed, and a warm body to comfort... if you're still in the travelling mood come morning then we'll discuss it at breakfast."
Stretching out before walking towards his chambers with parting words "Dog's a terrier... it's hardly going to ragdoll the lady."
"After what I've just seen, I'm not keen on going into Rotgut this late at night. We should definitely get some sleep first."
"After what I've just seen, I'm not keen on going into Rotgut this late at night. We should definitely get some sleep first."
"Very well - ales might tuck us in. Shall I distribute garlic?"
Leaving the kitchen, Phillip crosses the casino floor to the guest wing, headed for his room. Ethel answers his knock cautiously. "Is it really...?" she asks anxiously, opening the door after he identifies himself. "I mean, I suppose she's really...?"
"Very well - ales might tuck us in. Shall I distribute garlic?"
Braddon looks at Gristav perplexed.
"Um, doesn't really go with ale."
"Very well - ales might tuck us in. Shall I distribute garlic?"Braddon looks at Gristav perplexed.
"Um, doesn't really go with ale."
"Nor vampires, as I've heard. But whatever hunts old women does it to avoid the risk of such stronger game as we. Sleep well." Gristav smiles, and takes an ale for himself.
"No, vampires don't go with ale either," Braddon says uncertainly. "But it's good to know this thing might be scared of us. We'll try and find it tomorrow. Good night."
Braddon makes his way to bed, scratching his head.
Snake glances over at the halfling, shaking his head in obvious irritation at the ramblings of the magus as he rolls his eyes.
As Phillip takes his leave, "Raccoon's got it right. I'm gonna call it a day myself." And with that, Snake rises and heads toward his room. As he makes his way out of the kitchen, he stops and glances around until finally Lucky meets up with him and makes his way upon the tall man's shoulders. "I'm afraid we've got a long day ahead of us tomorrow, Luck. But I guess that's par for the course." He then continues on to his room.
Tired eyes softening slightly at the sight of Ethel, Phillip makes his way within before elaborating. "Dead - yes, though not by the men from Rot Gut. She had her neck snapped... but none of the place was rifled through. Something wanted her dead, but I've not a clue what." making sure to offer comfort by way of an embraced hug.
After a few seconds silence he asks "Is there any other party in Riddleport that you'd think interested in seeing her killed?"
Beyond the eastern ridge, the sun rises on the second operating day of the Gold Goblin casino. Over the harbor, the zenith of the Cyphergate and the buildings of Windward bask in the sun's first rays, while the preponderance of the town remains in practical twilight.
Ethel, nervous, slept fitfully last night. Phil leaves her behind in bed and heads for the kitchen, which is dark and empty, the stove unfired. It appears that no one has yet retrieved the daily basket of bread and comestibles from the rear stoop.
Frowning for a few moments, Phillip puts his hand near to his blade and moves to the back door. After a brief listen he sees the portal opened, and ascertains whether anything more sinister than pastry is present...
Phil finds nothing more dangerous outside the back door than the basket of potentially artery-clogging pastries.
Half-awake, though not untidy, Gristav can be heard entering the kitchen, the light tap of his staff a cadence outside any others. A pitcher poured to prime the pump makes only a faint rising whit of a whistle, but the pump itself is unmistakable, and the sloshing of water into the sink announces itself to all.
Splashed over a half-awake half-elf's face, the water works a wakening, and Gristav looks lightly at Phillip, with the baker's basket.
"Good morning, Phillip. Heat a basin, for your lady? By magic, if you'd hurry? Or by fire, soon enough: There will be coffee; I'm near needful enough to chew the beans."
Phil goes as far as hefting the basket inside and onto the nearest table before re-securing the rear door against the world. The arrival of Gristav is met with a slight nod before he shrugs "If you're going to offer the work I'll not refuse."
Braddon rolls over and sinks further under his blankets. :-)
Snake rises just as the sun barely peaks along the horizon. After getting himself dressed he pulls on his trench coat and puts on his hat, checking it within the mirror to make sure it's even. "Alright, Luck, let's go." Opening the door and looking around, he steps out and waits for Lucky to make his way out before closing and locking the door. He then makes his way to the kitchen to gather breakfast for Thuvalia.
Smirking slightly at the emergence of Snake, Phil can't help but ask "So... you want the fresh ones or the stale for her highness?"
Phil goes as far as hefting the basket inside and onto the nearest table before re-securing the rear door against the world. The arrival of Gristav is met with a slight nod before he shrugs "If you're going to offer the work I'll not refuse."
"If I'd ever make a bow toward gallantry again, how could I not offer my arm? You'll still have to choose; a minute of my magics, or a half-hour of the fire's powers? Once that's kindled..."
"And for you, Mister Kane? Any aid, you'd trust me with?"
"I don't ask the tanner how he tans the leather... so as long as there's coffee at the end of the process I don't care a jot."
Smirking slightly at the emergence of Snake, Phil can't help but ask "So... you want the fresh ones or the stale for her highness?"
As he looks over at the halfling, "Laugh it up, small time." He then appears to be in deep thought about something before finally taking a deep breath. "Fresh," he responds in what sounds like a somewhat defeated tone, "otherwise, I'll never hear the end of it." He then proceeds to acquire the fresh pastries.
"And for you, Mister Kane? Any aid, you'd trust me with?"
As he gathers Thuvalia's breakfast, he stops a moment and looks up at Gristav. "No," he simply answers and returns to what he was doing.
From upstairs can be heard the sounds of footsteps on the floor above; Saul and/or Bojasc must be awake and awaiting breakfast.
A wry smile curls Phillip's mouth, but he doesn't respond - instead wordlessly yielding ground on the basket of baked goods. With coffee not yet present, Gristav committing to it's preparation... and the fact that the breakfast meeting would be the best time to raise the matters of the day Phil merely nabs a couple of bites for Ethel, gives a quick nod and returns to his chambers.
While Gristav fires the stove and heats water, Snake assembles a plate of the choicest selections for Thuvalia. While Phil returns to his room with breakfast-in-bed, Braddon sleeps, blissfully unaware that his potential breakfast is getting picked over in his absence.
He waits for her response before moving for the door and out.
Phillip emerges from his chambers with his clothes more settled and thus girded proceeds upstairs directly for the morning debrief.
Via means both magical and mundane, Gristav coaxes the coffee into readiness, and he and Snake set about the task of relocating the breakfast and beverages upstairs. Phil consults with Ethel and makes ready for the day, while the tantalizing aroma of percolating coffee eventually makes its way down the northern wing of the building and entices Braddon awake.
Upstairs in the owner's suite, the owner is awaiting breakfast impatiently. "I told you, you should have gone down after the bakery basket already," he tells Bojasc peevishly as it finally arrives.
"Can't leave you along, boss," the bodyguard replies imperturbably. "Not with the dwarf already gone missing."
Braddon's nose twitches and he rolls over and reaches out for his clothes. He drags them on, admires his new boots, places a dagger in one and heads out, looking about sleepily.
He feels a sad twinge as he passes Samaritha's empty room and he peers briefly into Malkith's room before his growling stomach distracts him and lures him upstairs.
"Can't leave you along, boss,"
Braddon walks into the dining room to find Saul, Bojasc, Gristav, and Snake already there, along with the bakery hamper and a pot of coffee.
Braddon grabs a roll and bites into it. Holding it between his teeth, he then uses both free hands to pour himself some coffee. When done, one hand deposits the pot and pulls the roll in his mouth while the other raises the steaming mug to his lips for a scalding swig.
"If the bakery doesn't serve sufficiently, there's still some venison, iced since dinner. No great trouble to slice it thin, and make a sort of bacon?", Gristav offers.
"Right, then. I'll get on that. Oh, and after this, I'm going to Rags End. I'd ask for help, but some would refuse it, so I'll declare my intent to go alone, so you all can force your help on me. Remember, how little you trust me... so who knows, what I'm about to get up to?"
Gristav snickers as he leaves, and his fae laugh carries brightly from the stairs as he descends.
Phillip arrives upstairs and into the meeting room just as Gristav departs with cackled laugh as his companion. A momentary raise of an eyebrow is followed by a shake of his head as Phillip moves into the room proffering a nod of greeting to each of those within in turn. As the Halfling furnishes himself with a cup of coffee, he opens with an off the cuff question of Saul "Saul... any chance you'd happen to know how the ratcatchers like to deal out permanent messages?"
"Rat catchers?" Saul snaps. "You haven't managed to get on the wrong side of them, too?" He takes a sip of coffee and settles into his place at the head of the table, Bojasc taking the chair on his left. "Ziphras is someone you can do business with, but I wouldn't want to cross him."
With a wry smile and a shake of the head Phil talks as he fits a bolster and gets secured away "No... you need not add them to our already burgeoning list of adversaries... but if Ziphras did want to send a message - do you know the how he'd see it done?" seeking and hoping for the better confirmation that came from un-led corroboration rather than offering what he knew to start with.
Braddon swallows a bite, freeing his mouth to prattle again.
"I'm happy to go to Rag's End," Braddon calls after Gristav.
He turns to Saul. "What's today's schedule like boss? Stay out of the way of the Harpy or stand around and guard stuff?"