"Sorry, Braddon, but I've got to hurry. I have to go home and change before work. Thanks for a lovely evening, though. It was so much better than just sitting around the flat."
Braddon reaches across the empty bed, then suddenly sits up.
"It was fantastic to see you again. Do you want me to walk you home?"
"Ah, breakfast en salon. And why not?", Gristav says agreeably. "Coffee in a wine bottle?", he asks of Tendal as Gris approaches the table. "Again, why not?"
"What's that, hm?", he asks of the flat-laid note, as if it might answer, and then, more generally, "What's this?"
Digging into a slung bag, Gris produces trail crackers and some dry sausage as an offering to the Grace of Shared Breakfasts. These are laid on a spotless polka-dotted cloth. Polka-ed, because it once had spots, and spotless, because of indeliberate cantripped cleaning. Still, it served, as a serving cloth.
In addition, you would wager that the writer of the note was a woman. The handwriting has a feminine slant, and there is a faint hint of perfume lingering on the paper. As a matter of fact, as you raise the note toward your face for a better whiff, you have smelled this perfume before: an expensive scent favored by well-to-do ladies in Magnimar ... and by Lil Scarlet the day you met her in the Publican House.
"Do you want me to walk you home?"
"You don't have to," she assures him, slipping on her shoes. "No one in Leeward is going to harm one of Shorafa's girls."
Tendal taps the page with the back of his hand, then steps away, allowing Gristav to take his place near the vellum. Retrieving his goblet, Tendal simply quietly sips, his eyes unfocused as he thinks back through his experiences in Riddleport.
"I believe the script is Infernal. I cannot read it, but I have come across enough examples that I can say with some certainty. Further, the handwriting appears feminine, and there is a distinct perfume upon the page. Perhaps where a scented wrist transferred some delicate essence. But the scent is known to me, and the only person in Riddleport who I know that wears it is Lil Scarlett. Possibly the only person who can afford to wear it as well." Tendal finishes with a flicker of a rue smile.
With what appears to be supreme effort, Braddon drags himself from bed and climbs into his clothes. He steps into his boots and is suddenly dressed and ready, looking like his usual messy self.
"Want something to eat?"
"So do we know anyone that can read Infernal?" he asks, cutting his eyes from Tendal to Gristav, wondering if either might know of someone.
Phillip refrains from partaking of any food at present, instead keeping just to coffee. The talk of the letter sparks intrigue within him though, pushing out a query "Bojasc found it where exactly? I would imagine that parchment may hold the spark that caused the fire. We need it read... though I would hesitate to have it read by another. We know a fair one who works for the house arcane... I'd imagine that with the passage of coin we could secure the means?"
The breakfast party is interrupted by the appearance of Braddon and Lexy from the hall of the residential wing.
"Oh, good morning," the woman greets the others cheerfully. "Don't let me disturb you; I'm just on my way home."
Gristav looks to the note, then meets Snake's glance, and shrugs, looking to Bolboretta, then shrugs again. "So many possible mis-steps from here. Can we first re-trace our last, just now?*"
The breakfast party is interrupted by the appearance of Braddon and Lexy from the hall of the residential wing.
"Oh, good morning," the woman greets the others cheerfully. "Don't let me disturb you; I'm just on my way home."
"We've coffee?", Gristav offers. "And some trailman's treats, scarce fit for beast, let alone beauty. But you are a friend of Braddon's, and surely welcome."
Gristav reaches to slide the meager hanky-platter herward, and in the drawing back of his arm, the noisome note is nowhered. He struggles a bit to resist the scratch of the spell-hid sheet, but imagines he's succeeded.
"Though it all feels hardly worthy."
"Uh ... thanks, but no," Lexy replies. "I have to change clothes and get to work on time."
Phil gives Lexy a genuine smile and wave, offering a "Happy whoring." with no trace of sarcsam.
Just as he's about to respond, his attention is cut toward Lexy and he waits until she leaves before answering. "He said he found it in the vault, towards the back end of the shelf. I took another look around and found nothing else."
Braddon trails after Lexy and reaches out a hand to the proferred plate.
"Back soon," he smiles.
He stuffs the catch into his mouth and follows Lexy outside.
Braddon trails after Lexy and reaches out a hand to the proferred plate.
"Back soon," he smiles.
He stuffs the catch into his mouth and follows Lexy outside.
"We shall have words.", Gristav says after the exiting elf-get, before turning back to the table and producing the puzzling parchment. "Let's see if they shall have us..." Sensing if not sending Bolbo to lit on each of the onlookers, Gristav stares intently at the whorls, and descenders, and inclined loops of script, and... "Nothing from me, I'm afraid. I have five languages, but... from immersion, not theory. Perhaps Bolboretta, will bring us luck, or guidance?"
Phil gives Lexy a genuine smile and wave, offering a "Happy whoring." with no trace of sarcsam.
"Thanks!" Lexy answers cheerily, exiting the building with Braddon.
After the pair's exit, Tendal and Snake confer, examining the handwritten note. One of the first words they are able to interpret is "dwarf," which draws Gristav's attention. Following that, they read "alive," "gold," "Boneyard," and "alone."
By translating the words they are reasonably sure of and making educated guesses at the gaps, they arrive at the following translation: If you wish ever to see the dwarf alive again, bring 30,000 gold coins to the Boneyard. Come alone.
"Gentlemen.", Gristav begins in clipped tones, "I know I have been, perhaps, seemingly reluctant - truthfully reluctant, in fact - to support the idea of viol... No, this is taking too long."
"Witch. Must. Pay."
Phil leans back in his chair, ruffling his hair as the words turn over in his head. He exhales slowly and takes a draught of coffee. He begins cautiously "Not to forestall the spilling of blood... but let's think slow a while on this one." he smooths out his mustache before leaning forward to place his elbows on the table.
"If we follow the logic, Saul cleaned out his vault and went to bargain for the dwarf... and didn't come back. Whatever it was that he's tied up in was deep and dark enough to give Bojasc inkling or instruction to come after."
"But why is it written in the devil's tongue? Native for the writer? - but why and how is it known to Saul?"
"We've lost an overnight, to the delayed search of wherever this was."
"I've been counselled to patience too many times in this house, and each time with the pain increasing from delay. If we're to torture the facts until they admit the impossible, let's work back toward reason from outre'-most whimsy. What if... What if it were you, having a sample of her script, and scent, and the language, which would presume you feigning lack of it, now, which suit you have in... spades. BAH! I can't even metaphor properly!"
"It's a language, not a secret. There was a devil in a cage here a week past, no? Thousands have the language, Saul is one. Roll on. ... Roll on, indeed!", Gristav exclaimed in epiphany. "This is two nights past fresh. Yes, we'll follow that thread, but we've time to pull at another. Can we do your slow thinking, at a brisk walk? I propose we breakfast at the Duck. Greatreave was to have been researching Garundish Incantatrices, there's half a chance any near approach of the one woman's haunts may have brought him scent of the other."
"Tendal, that scrap, as a source of scent? For the Gnome, or the Hound, or each, and back to you, on my word..."
"Hmm. The food was stale but they seemed happy enough," Braddon comments.
He walks beside Lexy, looking around occasionally at the people walking past.
"Where did you say you grew up again? You didn't know anyone in Roderic's Cove did you? A couple of crazies there tried to jump us. They weren't very good."
"Roderic's Cove? No," she shakes her head emphatically. "That's just a pirate's cove. Anya and I, we come from down near Ember Lake, a town called Nybor. I don't expect you've heard of it."
Phillip waits and listens peacefully, allowing no emotion to cross his face. In answer to Gristav's exuberance he again counsels caution "It's two days old... which means waiting another span to act with cold thought isn't going to break anything... and no... I'd not discuss this walking, nor in public. Unless you want Shorafa to know what we do?"
"Anya and I, we come from down near Ember Lake, a town called Nybor. I don't expect you've heard of it."
Braddon shakes his head.
"I hadn't even heard of Roderic's Cove until I came here."Braddon shrugs. "There are so many places I don't know, I don't even try to remember them."
She shrugs. "It's a nice place. A little boring. Lots of farms."
"Not as a default, no. So, to your earlier question, there's been a devil's bargain as part of the show of the scene, why not as part of the scene of the show? And if not, humoring the woman seems damnable. What else to say? And how long would you take to say it? Because it's not days counting against asking one who might know more, it's bites. The race of flap jaws v. flap jacks. So what would you have us speak of?"
"Put simply... what do we plan to do, and who's to be involved in the doing of it. Are we to walk united, leaving the Goblin empty today? - There's a reasoning to securing these halls with changed steels at the locks. What is to be done if one of us finds our quarry? - is there merit in seeking quiet counsel with the other powers of Riddleport? I know you heed to move forward and onward... but speaking as one more acquainted with the dark than you... but short minutes spent now will count for hours."
"For instance... who is Greatreave? - and why and what does he fit into this situation?"
Tendal, listening quietly, sets down his goblet and speaks up,"Truly, Mr. Hargreaves alights on the crux of the matter. We have time, at least a few hours, to make decisions and prepare appropriately for our investigation and hopefully rescue. Securing the Goblin will be wise, though if anyone wanted to burn the building, they could have already done it. Further, regardless of what actions we choose, there will be a shifting of power in Riddleport. We must be certain that we are at least mentally ready to deal with whatever outcome occurs."
"Natinilinus Greatreave is a gnome, in our employ, or mine, at least, these past several days. Last charged with the match of 'Garundi woman spellcaster' to possibilities in Riddleport. Of course, we know more about that now, don't we? But at that time, we knew nothing, or only the little that such a woman cast against the Flying Cloud as part of a boarding action, forestalled by me, the source of the Cloud's affection for me."
"What he's learned will help measure him. And may well include the matching of a scent to a scent noticed in the learning. Greatreave is more than usually focused on such, and beside him, there is his hound, who maps scent in the manner of all hounds, and might well run from swatch to source, if given the hope of reward."
"If forces are to shift into battle, I'd favor his presence. Whatever his power may be, bishop or knight or pawn, jack or fool, he's no man of our enemy's pieces. Or wasn't. If he blundered into the Black Queen, and turned... well, I'd expect the animal's worry to show."
"What other powers would you seek counsel of? Have we undeclared allies? Or is it more the matter of timing the turning of the cards against the bets being placed? Wisdom, in either case, I suppose; the Grace and I are largely strangers."
"So if we're not to rush after the Queen until we've decided what's to be done... and allowing that she will to her best degree control any actual encounter, and might force loss of pieces on either side of the board... What is to be our intent?"
"I know this is foolish, but I want the piece marked Lil Scarlet removed from the playing board."
"She has cause enough trouble for us that she needs to be placed in check, or forced by others to be a sacrifice." Tendal pauses, and turns to his companions.
"That's a thought. Do we know who Scarlet works for? Is there any way we can convince them that she is a liability, and allow us to remove her from the board?"
Shaking his head at the dilemma, "I know nothing of this Scarlet dame. And while we probably should go visit the boneyard to find answers, Raccoon's got a point about leaving the Goblin empty. If we all go and check it out, that leaves only Bojasc to guard the place. He may be an over-sized muscle head but he only counts as one. Once word reaches out that Saul is gone - and it probably won't be long before that happens - there'll be a host of Saul's enemies looking to come in and take over. My guess is the only reason they haven't already taken over is because they don't know yet." Shrugging, "Rock and a hard place, bubs."
Braddon delivers Lexy to the front door of her building. "Well, bye, Braddon," she smiles, fishing her key out of her pocket. "You know where to find me."
For the initial benefit of Tendal "Scarlet was Shorafa's whore... though now the whoremistress has charged us with returning her to whole. A task that we're... unlikely to comply with explicitly."
Then referring to Gristav's follow-ups "The other powers were those of Zincher or Croat... or even Mescher if you thought it worth a question. I'm not saying we should just that it's worth a thought now together. They're likely uninvolved with the scarlet question... but with an eye to the future a presence before them might put their hounds off the scent of the Goblin's carcass a few mites."
On the gnome and hound "If you think it's worth a stride, then by all means..." pausing a moment to muse. "As to our intent... that's indeed a question. Saul as employer's become less than ideal in my eyes... as his ability to pay wage lays empty and bare. My eyes aren't only on the day we're in... but the days to come..."
"I can offer a silent illusion of Saul, walking about the grounds, giving direction to myself, perhaps pointing at the narrow windows? Or Tendal might do better. That might stall any predatory expeditions."
"We have conflicting commands from two of the 'powers', The Queen's return, the Queen's incarcelment... Braddon wants her dead, for his grandmere, and why not? My first motivation is Larur, you all know that, and I make no pretense - or post-tense - only that you might expect my support."
"A Gnome and hound might support Bojasc in defense of the place, the crew of the Cloud, might, if found and turned to purpose, though I'd have to share what was learned about the previous attempt on the Cloud, and let them think on what it might mean for how soon a second..."
"Likewise, but the problem is when, rather than where. After a week away, maybe I'll have some more time to spare. I'll let you know."
Braddon kisses Lexy and swaggers off, smiling, down the street.
Phillip considers Gristav's suggestion before "Not an illusion of the man, more that we secure the grounds and show that it is not empty nor idle."
On the topic of security "You'd need query the gnome on whether he's for hire on that type of work, but I wouldn't seek the Cloud's crew here. If we need of muscle then Croat's boys can be hired... simple, clean and within the confines of Riddleport's systems."
As Braddon returns leisurely to the Gold Goblin, he finds the rest of the group still standing irresolutely around the makeshift breakfast table, just as they were when he departed.
"Morning," Braddon greets the kitchen cheerily.
"Did Saul come back?"
"Not unless he's come with you.", Gristav calls from the impromptu tableau in the casino. He continues as Braddon joins the group there."Bojasc found a note, showed it to Snake last night. In the language of Devils and Chelaxian contracts, it's Lil, ransoming 'the Dwarf', saying to go to the Boneyard. We guess this is what Saul read."
"It's two days old, so we were working on waiting for a roundly magical three... I think it's been agreed to ask Greatreave if he or his hound have had Lil's scent. That's mine to do, but others are welcome, it's breakfast, at least. And in the rough direction of hired horses. Also seemingly agreed, some of Croat's bullyboys to guard the house while we away. That's perhaps Phillip's? Rejected by Phillip, the enlistment of the Cloud's crew, despite the degree of common cause we have against the vessel hosting Lil. It's just not Riddleport rules, or something like that. I'm feigning a compliant ignorance on that point, badly, but I don't see how sailors are worse than orcs for making the house look busy, and at least Cazynsik would be sure to take notice, perhaps even attend. But the orcs are sure, and the sailors uncertain... that's certain."
Masking a sigh under his breath Phillip grits his teeth and sets responding to Gristav's words "The Cloud's a working ship... you pull crew from it's rigging and it's left bereft. They've little reason to lay their lives at the door of the Goblin, and even to do so would leave their house unguarded. Apart from that how long will they even be a port? One day, two? - what then?"
"If we've need of guards, buying Croat's men serves two fold. It buys men with loyalty to the coin we put in their hand... and it buys us Croat. Any power seeking quarrel would need consider the offense not just to us... but to Croat. We pay the preferred piper and it buys us legitimacy in the eyes of the Overlord... and of Riddleport."
"As to the gnome, it's your bargain and your quest. I'd be happy to see to the Goblin in your absence."
"Lil's in the Boneyard?"
A pained expression crosses Braddon's face.
"Can we go now? While it's daylight?"
"We might, Braddon. Some of us, will.", Gristav states levelly. "As for after an additional day, or two, from now? I hope most of us intend a return to previous leadership, or at least to work toward. Wise, to look ahead to darker potentials, but I wouldn't want to look forward, to them. And, if we return without Larur, my interest, will not stated as a percentage."
"Is there more, needs be said, before we rouse Bojasc to his watch, and break to pairs or threes? Or I'm willing to... gnome it alone..."
Tendal eyes Braddon. "That superstition again? We already walked the Boneyard once, and saw nor sensed anything. Its a soggy lumber filled mess, that is all. I think that Gristav's hypothesis of mage working illusion to scare off people is much more appropriate to something that doesn't have any sailors going to meet their gods. If it were some deadly reef or lonely shipwreck besmirched shore, then perhaps a haunting would be in order. But that...I think not." Tendal scoffs.
Turning back to the group he continues, "It is fortuitous that I was able to change our gains to gold last evening then. We have the financial means to secure the Goblin as you have suggested. If everyone is in agreement with the plan, then I suggest we be about it. The sooner that we can go, the less chance there is of the trail going completely cold."
Tendal heads to his room, to where he slept on the gold from his business dealings, and fetches the bag back to the dining room.
Braddon nods enthusiastically.
"Yup. I agree with the plan."
He waits for Tendal to leave.
"What's the plan again?"
Rolling his eyes, "Gristav is gonna go meet with the gnome and his dog. Raccoon is gonna see about hiring Croat's men to guard the Goblin while we take a trip to the Boneyard... in the daytime," he says, shaking his head at the scatterbrained ranger. He then runs that last sentence back through his mind. Giving a muted chuckle, "That didn't sound right at all, did it: 'A trip to the Boneyard'. Probably best we all hope I'm not some sort of prophet."
"The future's earned Gristav... but only if we take care of the present." offering Tendal's words and offer a short nod. "The vault's compromised obviously... for what's shared would you think it worth a stout chest for securing the remains? I'll hesitate on changing the outside locks... but I'll see to securing a few internal rooms on our own lock and key alone... with steel shared amongst for entry of course."
"Serpe... would you mind helping me out with a delicate and potentially risky activity? ... I'm going to see if Bojasc is present and / or awake..."
Nodding, "Sure. Anything sounds better than meeting up with a gnome and his dog and pancakes... again."
"Pancakes or the boneyard?" Braddon ponders all too briefly.
"Maybe the pancakes need some muscle to bully them into line."
Phil gives Snake a smirk, before offering a nod to the rest of the table and starting towards Bojasc's lair...
"Pancakes or the boneyard?" Braddon ponders all too briefly.
"Maybe the pancakes need some muscle to bully them into line."
"Do it well enough to impress a Fey noble, and you might be created, Sir Up.", Gristav says sweetly.
"We'll be back as quickly as is reasonable. Though I warn you, if hound or gnome claims a match to Lil's scent, or that of Larur's pillowcase, I'll be taking, it may be only Braddon or the Gnome that comes with the news."
"And we're to fetch a brace of horses? A hand? Half the dozen?"