"Idea... I'm aware of potential. And its loss. That's all. Could they be got into the tenement? Surely. They were got in here, after all, with five men on watch and one more having counted the cases. And I'd put any of us against two of the thugs standing stoop for Zincher. At least for wit. It could be done. Buy a pie, save the crust, count them as blackbirds. Or a great loaf of bread. Or a stew crock? Or a petty-keg, the sort too small to tap, you just pull the top off... Smoke will stun the critter, that it might be packed. But honestly...", Gristav gestures toward Phillip, "There is your vicar of vengeance, let it be his, call and calling at once, no? I am still wounded, weak.", Gristav shows Saul his weeping envenomed injury. "I well wield words, but I worry on wit and wiles, the while. Still, I expect this is sound enough: They're trapped; you've time to reason. And reason, to take the time."
"Aye, any of you lot against two," Saul answers. "But we've ... what? Ten? Eleven? And Cleg has dozens. It's the repercussions I'm worried about. We haven't the strength for open war. Still, a spider or two ... and as you say, we have time.... Those cages in the subbasement ... and we could feed them...," he muses.
"Aye, any of you lot against two," Saul answers. "But we've ... what? Ten? Eleven? And Cleg has dozens. It's the repercussions I'm worried about. We haven't the strength for open war. Still, a spider or two ... and as you say, we have time.... Those cages in the subbasement ... and we could feed them...," he muses.
"Against future need. Perhaps with the case stored in the same room. And we raise a muffled alarm. We stage the 'deaths' of those already dead, in places inconvenient for Cleg to later acknowledge 'ownership'..." Gristav back-steps unsteadily. "You're clever; I'm tired."
Larur steadies Gristav with his broad shoulder. "You need a drink, lad. At the Publican. Have Rolf take a look at you. If there's a bill to pay, we'll manage to scrape it up. You wouldn't still be in Riddleport to be bit by spiders if it weren't for me."
Saul turns back to Phil and his kindling. "We'll keep the one in the box as our ace in the hole. Never know what you can't do with a poisonous spider someday. If we can take the one in the chimney alive without anyone getting hurt, we'll cage it too, but I won't risk anyone else being bitten to capture it. If it dies, no one's shedding a tear."
"What tale to tell, if we go about town? Phillip is also bit; how is it less upon him?"
"Warm smoke, like for bees?"
Phillip stands immediately from the near to sparking fire and gives both Saul and Gristav a pointed look "Your choice, but if you want to catch it then Gristav's apparently the expert there..." standing, brushing down his clothes and releasing the strain on his crossbow. "Have fun... but I'll be no part of that foolishness. Hope it bites the idiot in the tongue and at least gives us some respite from his opinions."
Phillip then starts to walk out of the Goblin, muttering "Business to attend to."
Braddon mutters quietly to Snake. "Shorafa is the tiefling that runs the temple of Calistria. She's one of the bosses that said Saul should have his hand cut off. Nice enough but uppity. Has a thing for not humans."
Braddon looks back inside the chimney. "I can't reach it but it can't get out either. Can you do anything or should we head back?"
"I got nothing. I say we head back." Looking down at the kids again, Snake angles his head curiously, as an odd thought has just struck him. "Sleep." he says, looking back to Braddon. "I could put 'em to sleep, I'm fairly certain. Those kids, I mean. It wouldn't last long but I'd find it... 'fun'," he states plainly, raising his eyebrows and shrugging.
Braddon shakes his head quickly. "No, no, no no! The kids are apparently under Shorafa's protection. Dayn made that mistake already when he asked one to run an errand. Miss Uppity went all moral on us for using the kids like she does. Ignore the brats and let's head back."
He stumbles back across the roof to his rope and looks to Snake.
"That float down thing looked pretty clever. Don't suppose we can float up too?"
Braddons takes the end of his rope and attempts to climb back up into the window.
"Alright, if you say so. And as far as floating 'up'... I'm thinkin' not." As he watches Braddon climb up easily, Snake makes a weak attempt at floating up but nothing happens. That's what I thought. "Yeah I'm just gonna go around. I'm not the best climber. See you at the bar." And with that, Snake mentally prepares himself again - even though there's a bit of trepidation, his confidence in this new ability is stronger - and jumps... finding himself floating again straight down to the ground. Brushing himself off and straightening his coat, he looks to the rotten kids and tips his hat before heading straight back toward the entrance of the casino.
By the time the big man has floated to the ground, the watching boys begin to scatter; he finds himself tipping his hat to their heels as they run away down the road. Shrugging, he starts back around the building, realizing partway there that the place had been locked up after Zincher and his men left and he doesn't have a key.
Inside, Braddon successfully regains the window and squeezes in over the sill, wincing a bit as he stumbles on his twisted ankle. Making his way down the stairs, he walks out into the casino proper and asks, "So, what's the plan?"
With no restraining hands forthcoming, Phillips egress was not checked. After a short trip to his room to divest himself of crossbow, he makes for the back entrance and lets himself out.
As the traveler makes his way around back, he crosses paths with Phillip on his way out. "Going somewhere, bub?" he asks curiously, wondering if there's been some sort of change of plans.
"So, what's the plan?"
"There's a spider in the box," Saul grins, "and another trapped in the chimney. We were about to try to smoke it out. If it survives, we'll have a matched set. Don't suppose they'd make a breeding pair?" he turns to Covey hopefully.
"Can't say as I took that close a look," Covey replies dryly.
Phillip nods curtly "Aye, I am. Rest are inside."
"Can't say as I took that close a look," Covey replies dryly.
"Breeding? Not without some expert at hand. If the... young? Are narrower than your cage bars, you'll have them in every crevice. Or more to the point, you'll not have them, at all."
"My current plan is to get a smoke-fire going, edging open the flue-baffle by degrees to let the smoke up, but not let the spider down. If after the start, it seems he's not trying to come down, then we'll guess he'll hold on until he's overcome, and we'll open the baffle full. When he falls, we put him into a crate, and the crate into one of your cages, and see if he recovers."
"If he doesn't cooperate, we change the plan. The only change I currently see likely, is to kill him."
Phillip nods curtly "Aye, I am. Rest are inside."
"Hm. Alright. Just keep an eye out for some punk kids out there that belong to someone named 'Shorafa'. I think they took off, but, apparently this lot," he motions with a nod of his head back toward the bar, "has had issues with her previously so odds are she's using 'em for her eyes and ears. Watch yourself," he warns, nodding, as he continues his way toward the others.
Phillip half chuckles and half grunts by way of farewell, before smoothing his mustache and putting his mind to feet and eyes to surroundings. Time... time to think... was foremost on his mind, so his first direction was towards the baths.
"Smoke it out? Right. So, where'd they come from? Are there any more?"
Malkith offers Braddon a hand ascending the few feet through the window. As Daynadrian unfastens the rope, the Varisian follows Braddon downstairs. As they rejoin the others, he catches the conversation taking place. "With the events of this week, I'm guessing this wasn't just a case of a mistaken delivery?"
"Not as we read the events, no. Zincher came in and saw the box, with his trademark, and then left. We don't think it was accidental, in any wise. There's some concern Zincher may try to make claim for them. If the creatures, or illusions of them, were to appear in places embarrassing to him, he might elect not to make such a claim."
"It was no mistaken delivery. I think Philip's perhaps gone in search of proof of that. I'm reading that his involvement with the shipment has him personally embarrassed at the day's events. He did seem to be out for... well, ichor. He started to lay a fire. Our plan is to make it a smokey fire, and subdue the spider we have trapped in the chimney..."
"Bradden, the four spiders came from that crate, there. One is still inside."
Braddon frowns at Gristav. "I know. I put it there."
He shakes his head. "Look, the delivery guys gave the box to us. Someone gave the box to them. Someone gave the box to them and so on. Why don't we just follow it?"
He turns back to Malkith. "Can you start their fire for them with your..." Braddon raises an eyebrow and waggles his fingers.
"I don't think there'll be any trouble starting the fire, mate," Covey observes. "A little oil from one of the lamps around ought to serve. The tricky bit is what happens when the spider comes out."
Without speaking, Bojasc wields his axe in hand more firmly, mutely volunteering to take the lead and glancing around a bit contemptuously to see who else in the room stands ready to face the vermin.
-----------------------
Phillip walks northward several blocks before turning east on the road that passes in front of the open plaza of the House of Seven Veils. Despite the early hour and the overcast skies, there are several girls strolling the plaza along with the watchful black-clad guards, whips coiled at their belts alongside daggers. His approach draws nothing more than a few welcoming smiles as he crosses the cobblestones to the curtained entrance. Following the corridor to the sumptuous lounge at the heart of the temple, he finds the room manned by a young human woman with chestnut hair. "Welcome," she greets him warmly, dimpling as she smiles. "What pleasures can we provide to you this morning?"
Phillip returns a wan smile, more businesslike than pleasure seeking and responds "A hot bath, and a warm towel should suffice." choosing to make way to the public bath, and endure the open area rather than pay for privacy.
Once situated he strips, and almost on a whim leaves his Calistrian symbol lying in plain view atop his clothes. Phil then slides into the waters - using the towel provided to wipe away the dried blood around the wound generated by spider's bite and then sinking into reflective stupor.
"The spider doesn't come out. It's trapped. It gets smoked. It falls. We hear it. We pull it out and dump it in a box before it wakes up."
Braddon pours some lamp oil over the pre arranged kindling and lights it. While it takes, he empties a crate, peeking inside it before opening it, then places the open part of the crate against the fireplace. He keeps the lid as a sort of unwieldy scoop.
"Did someone say these things were Zincher's? He can't of seen the box. If he did and he whines about it later we can say he's making it up because he said nothing at the time. He told Gristav he could take what he wanted. If he saw it and said nothing, he didn't want it. And we can say there's no proof or, well, we saw our box of wine in his arena too, so there. He'll just sound like a whiner. Nah, I say we just keep it under our hats. A box of spiders with his name on it could get him in a bunch of trouble if it turns up in the wrong place. As if a box of spiders in Shorafa's temple or Mescher's barracks could possibly come from us? Where would we get such a thing from? It'd obviously be Zincher's fault. He's the only one with those sorts of connections, right? Unless he tells everyone he lost a shipment first. That'll make him look real good. He starts losing shipments. Nah, I don't think he's very bright. And even if we decide to keep it all quiet, we can still go after those delivery guys. Did the ha... Phillip. Did he know them? Where is he?"
Snake makes his way back toward the others, managing to catch the last half of what Braddon is saying. "The Raccoon left out the back. Didn't say where he was going. So what are we doing with a box of spiders? Have we managed to kill 'em all finally?" he asks, obviously out of the loop on the plan of keeping them alive.
"We've killed two, one here, one upstairs, but Phillip brought it down. Another in the box, there, and one up the chimney, where we plan to smoke it until it succumbs, and then box it and marginally prefer that it recover. Toward what purpose, remains to be discussed. Still, it seems short-sighted to end them, with their threat contained."
Gristav sits tiredly, but with a view of the fireplace. "If one of you will start Phillip's fire, push it to one side, and feed it to smoke, we can work the flue-damper by degrees to let the smoke up toward our guest a while, and then after a bit, opened fully, so when the creature falls, it falls through." Gristav draws a deep breath. "I'll have ready a spell such as felled and froze the other one. (After bladework and bruising, truth be told...)"
Snake just looks at them curiously. "Keepin' 'em alive, huh? Gotta say, never heard of keeping oversized bugs as pets. Especially ones with a nasty bite to 'em." Shrugging, "Everyone needs a hobby, I guess."
"Phillip also had misgivings. ...of some sort. He never expressed them, and left when my arguments to contain our bloodlust, and the spiders, were accepted by Saul. I wouldn't call them pets, no... I'd put them in the same class as the arrows in my quiver. Contained against need. Once they're contained, of course."
As Gristav and Snake converse, Braddon sets about lighting the fire Phillip has already laid. The kindling from the back stoop is slightly damp from last night's rain; beneath the coating of oil, it turns black and hisses. The flames are neither high nor hot, but the smoke is copious.
As they sit back to wait, Tendal and Daynadrian join the others in the bar. The elf looks disgruntled. "Sorry for the delay," he offers. "Thuvalia didn't want to be left upstairs by herself in case there were more spiders, and she was afraid to come back down here with me, in case there were more spiders. So what do we know? Is this Lil's doing?"
----------------------
Phillip returns a wan smile, more businesslike than pleasure seeking and responds "A hot bath, and a warm towel should suffice." choosing to make way to the public bath, and endure the open area rather than pay for privacy.
The woman's directions are unnecessary, as Phil already knows his way down to the subterranean hot spring. The attendant below proves to be the bluish tiefling by whom Ethel had been intimidated upstairs in the lobby on her first visit to the temple. He looks bored and pays little attention to the halfling's arrival.
As they sit back to wait, Tendal and Daynadrian join the others in the bar. The elf looks disgruntled. "Sorry for the delay," he offers. "Thuvalia didn't want to be left upstairs by herself in case there were more spiders, and she was afraid to come back down here with me, in case there were more spiders. So what do we know? Is this Lil's doing?"
"Gris said Zincher's mark was on a box. Was it? Why didn't we see it?" Braddon looks suspiciously at Covey.
"I reckon we just go track down those guys that Phillip knew. They must know something. Can he take us to them? He knew where they came from and everything. Should we just head to the docks and start busting heads? What were their names?"
"With the events of this week, I'm guessing this wasn't just a case of a mistaken delivery?"
"Gris said Zincher's mark was on a box. Was it? Why didn't we see it?" Braddon looks suspiciously at Covey.
"There it is," the bartender volunteers, pointing to a small chalk scrawl of a sword on the spider's box. "It's supposed to look like this," he moves his finger to one of the crates stacked on top of the lid, where a similarly-sized scribble of a toothy goblin face is chalked. "They use symbols for local deliveries; not all the stevedores can read Common. When this box left the ship, it was marked correctly and bound for Zincher's Arena."
"Aye," Saul puts in, "and if Cleg hadn't shown up to draw all our eyeballs, we might have paid closer attention to the boxes. Bribing the handcart men is a thing that's done," he studiously avoids Larur's eye and saying whether it's something that he's done, "but usually you're bribing them to leave you someone else's merchandise, not to deliver yours somewhere else. It was cleverly done."
"I reckon we just go track down those guys that Phillip knew. They must know something. Can he take us to them? He knew where they came from and everything. Should we just head to the docks and start busting heads? What were their names?"
"Billy Dagger and Bellamy," Saul replies. "They're well known around the wharves, and if they've Cleg's silver jingling in their pockets, they're likely looking to spend it on drink or women. Billy Dagger's not quite right in the head since a bar fight a few years back. He's unlikely to be the ringleader, but he'd be the weak link to press for information."
"It's possible our stevedores are also victims, here... That they were asked to weigh keeping ten fingers against delivering eight boxes. We ought not allow ourselves anger at them ahead of determining actual guilt. I can say that, I think, as our most injured party. I'd judge us well done by, to know from them exactly what happened. It's likely Phillip's gone on that errand, though whether learning or avenging was his intent, is unknown. Still, he's likely to do some of both."
"Let's go find 'em. Which ship did these come from? We'll start there."
"I don't know. When you're asking Saul that, ask him if he thinks we ought to make any fuss at all. We can plausibly ignore the whole event, we just have me complain on Larur's behalf, "And HALF of it wasn't even for the bar! Saul had it set aside, 'private reserve' or some such. I tell you, my dwarf friend, he's got a blind spot for that Saul, the man is a sharper..." Gristav smiles faintly. "That might get them hoping Saul opens his 'reserve' when he's alone."
"The ship was the Poison Pearl," Saul answers, "but as Covey says, everything seems to have been in order when they left the ship. If Cleg had been cleverer, he'd have rubbed off the sword and drawn on a goblin before the delivery; we'd have been at sea then about what happened. But he can't resist letting us know who it was outsmarted us." He smiles almost fondly before turning to Gristav. "Cleg knows, and Cleg knows we know, but we've both got the fiction of the 'accidental misdelivery' to prevent open hostilities. Frankly, even if he didn't have more men, we couldn't afford to declare ourselves against him, not with our next opening Sunday: Too many folks wouldn't want to put themselves on his bad side by patronizing the Goblin. So however we handle this, let's do it ... delicately."
Shortly after the fire was lit, Braddon had heard a faint scrabbling from high up in the chimney, but there had been no further indication of the trapped spider's movements since then. As Saul speaks, however, Braddon hears a thump from the fireplace, followed by a sizzle and the scent of burning hair....
----------------------
The baths are far from busy this time of morning, and Phil is able to enjoy a private bath without paying the premium for it. Apart from the oblivious tiefling, who keeps his distance, there is no one to spy Phillip's holy symbol until he has emerged from the bath, toweled off, and begun dressing himself again. As he is dropping the holy symbol over his neck in preparation for buttoning it up beneath his shirt, however, a human woman comes down the stairs. She is Mwangi, undoubtedly the same woman who attended his bath on his first visit to the House of the Silken Veil. Her eye falls on the three-daggered symbol and shows a spark of surprise before she raises her gaze to take another look at his face, but although she briefly meets his eye with a questioning glance, she doesn't make a move to approach and violate his privacy.
Noting the Mwangi's eyes and flicker of recognition, Phillip pauses a few moments before buttoning up his shirt. Taking a bit of time to ready himself against the burgeoning day outside, he then moves closer to the attendant. Waiting first for her eyes to pass from the demure to direct line of sight and asks "If one of the faithful was in need of guidance spiritual... does this house offer such?"
Internally he mused on the issue as he awaited response. The others have talked of entwining threads cast out from this house. While I am here I may as well see for myself of what state it lies within.
Hearing the sound of a thud within the fireplace, "Hey, bub, I think your bug made it down."
Braddon shuffles the crate back from the fireplace and tries to use the lid of the crate to scoop the stunned and smokey spider into the receptacle without touching it..
"Anybody got a stick or should I use my sword?"
Gristav will trust Braddon with his staff.
As is his usual tactic, Malkith listens patiently to the conversation going on around him. As the details of the morning excitement unfolds, he considers the options. Finally, he breaks his silence, "The best course of action at this point would be to kill the last two spiders and be done with it. Cleg knows we received his opari and that there isn't anything we can reasonably do about it in return, so why expend the effort?"
"Getting ahead in Riddleport is about having the strength to take what you want; staying ahead is about having the wisdom to know how to keep it. This was a test of those attributes," Malkith glances at Saul and Laurur, "Business as usual, if I'm not mistaken. We passed Cleg's test, so let us be rid of those izurriteak" he gestures to the fireplace, "and get on with our day."
With the aid of Gristav's staff, Braddon maneuvers the limp arachnid into the crate. Apart from a large blackened spot where it fell into the sooty fire and singed away the fine bristles on its legs, it doesn't look to have been seriously injured by its suffocation and fall: The body is intact, at any rate, and not leaking ichor.
"The best course of action at this point would be to kill the last two spiders and be done with it. Cleg knows we received his opari and that there isn't anything we can reasonably do about it in return, so why expend the effort?"
"Getting ahead in Riddleport is about having the strength to take what you want; staying ahead is about having the wisdom to know how to keep it. This was a test of those attributes," Malkith glances at Saul and Laurur, "Business as usual, if I'm not mistaken. We passed Cleg's test, so let us be rid of those izurriteak" he gestures to the fireplace, "and get on with our day."
Saul and Larur exchange uneasy glances at Malkith's recommendation. "If someone throws daggers at a man," Saul cajoles, "there's nothing saying he can't pick them up, either to use himself or to sell for profit, and salvage something out of the situation."
"Spiders aren't daggers," the dwarf replies. "Now, lad, I know," he heads off Gristav's interjection, "you think it'd be a fine thing to pay Zincher back in the same coin, and I don't blame you. Of all of us, you bore the brunt of this. But it's like I told the halfling: Vengeance escalates. They draw a knife, we draw a sword; they send one of us to the healer, we send one of them to the Boneyard: That's the Riddleport way, and it ends with both sides weakened and those smart enough to stay out of it picking over the pieces. I'm with the card-shuffler," he nods to Malkith. "We've got a business to run."
"I'm afraid I must agree, sir," Tendal puts in. "I see nothing to be gained from perpetuating these childish pranks. Mr. Zincher undoubtedly has greater resources than do we, in the exotic beast realm in particular, and we have more important goals than petty sniping -- or amateur entomology."
Daynadrian frowns at the wizard. "I don't like letting a man insult us and endanger our people, while we do nothing to make him regret it. We don't answer this attack in some way, it'll only make him think we're an easy target. Where I come from, we don't have the luxury of refusing any possible advantage that might fall into our hands."
"The vicar of the Vengeuse seemed to want them dead. I would think his insight might have guided that. Perhaps he'll return to weigh in?"
"As for myself, Zincher's column in my ledger has not grown appreciably this day; it was already long. And I do not fault the creatures, nor the stevedores, doing what they did, by habit, to survive." Gristav sighs past a bitter grimace. "I'm even aware that... that might apply to Zincher. Philosophically."