"Vorshin's men speak the language of gold. They would likely do anything if they thought there was profit to be made. It might only be necessary to let them know the potential fortune that one such as Gol might carry."
"Now you are thinking Boggle! They have long knives when they think there is a profit to be made. Maybe we drug one group and float the idea that the other side did it for pay from a competing guild!"
"Ooooo.... Drive them against one another. That is pretty devious. You are starting to think like a fey Helgrim," Teasel says excitedly at the prospect at perspective chaos.
"Freyja, I bet you are a fair hand at makeup and costuming. Do you think you could infiltrate and get close enough to dope up the man and nab the documents?"
I'm a fair hand at stage makeup, but have no kit. And I can act well enough but am not practiced at slight of hand. I would be happy to apply said makeup to another though.
"Let's go find Vorshin and make up. Or talk near her about all of Gol's gold."
Bora slides a filigreed purse along her side. Opening the flap, she begins to rummage around inside - and it becomes abundantly clear that the interior is far larger than the exterior would suggest (or even allow).
"It may be no master's kit, but I have some makeups that could help your effort," Bora offers.
Excellent. Who shall I make up. Is anyone practiced with Slight of Hand?
Kit prepares a rousing speech about the gold just dripping from Gol's wagons, and how he hates half-orcs besides.
Wulf trys to make sure he is ready to assist.
Boggel whips up something incapacitating.
Teasel just provides support knowing that she sticks out with a sore thumb no matter what she does.
Boggel quickly mixes a blend of dandelions, brown moss, and a few termite larvae for good measure. It produces a paste that he promises will dissolve in liquid, leaving behind only traces that might be mistaken for bits of tea leaves. In a dark wine or lager, it will go unnoticed.
With help from Bora applying the make up, Freya crafts a disguise that will protect her from being identified by Gol. After all, this Consortium director has never met the entertainer before, so it is more so a matter of ensuring he does not know whom to look for after the fact.
Kit recognizes some of Vorshin's crew idling at the Silver Bulette. He wisely opts to spread his "rumors" when their mistress is out of sight and earshot, so she cannot recognize the Keleshite or dispute the misinformation he provides. Nevertheless, he lurks nearby as the porters and sellswords eagerly, almost rabidly pass the hearsay along to their boss.
After taking a moment to think it over, Vorshin barks a command. Her boys begin packing up their gear and collecting their fellows. They set out, apparently keen on finding and ambushing this mark.
Bora accepts the concoction produced by Boggel, briefly eyeing it before concealing it within a hidden pocket in her dress.
"I can slip this to him," she quietly declares. "I should be able to convince him to take afternoon tea or share one last glass of wine for the road before he leaves town. As a token of my thanks, please accept this in trade."
Bora offers a pair of tiny silver flasks, each only large enough to contain a single gulp.
"The resident alchemist at Adamas has become quite skilled at concentrating potions," she explains, likely referring to Tobblemouth, the purple-haired gnome you met the prior night. "It will be one of the foulest tastes to ever cross your tongue, but it conveys its magic effect with far less liquid. I usually keep some of these near at hand if I need to make a quick, unseen exit."
"As for the matter of the documents, were you planning on stealing them now, while Gol's in town, or when he's set upon by Vorshin's men?"
”Hummm, good point. I suppose now would be better?”
"Now is good--but only if they can be stolen without him knowing they are gone. Replacing them at least a notebook or scroll of similar size. However, if we fail in our attempt, he'll be wary when Vorshin comes to announce herself and her merry men," says Qitaba with an arched brow.
He crosses his arms. "Bora, will you be having wine with him in a public house or...privately? Freyja will need to be at the ready, as a serving-maid or attendant of some sort."
"Gol's eager to get on the road," Bora replies, a hint of worry in her voice. "He won't just stop at the Silver Bulette or any old public house. It would have to be an elite venue, or there would have to be a special guest asking to share a table with him. We'll only get one chance to steer him where we want. If I goad him too much, he'll grow suspicious."
Bora waits for input from you, her conspirators. Should she try to convince Gol to stop at a more upscale establishment, should she claim that a VIP wants to meet with him, or should she just try to get him to share a private toast upon their coach?
"Bora, if you give him wine in the coach, perhaps you can depart the coach once he is unwell--perhaps you can say you'll head back to town to get him medicine. Of course, this leaves the question of the documents."
Kit pauses to think.
"Of course, then he'll suspect you're somehow connected with Vorshin, as you leave conveniently before she and her bandits arrive. It has to be a special event--you'll have to beg him to tarry."
Kit looks about at his companions and sighs.
"I fear this may call for the talents of Freyja, and forgive me, Freyja, in advance, for suggesting such a dastardly and lascivious scheme. Ahem. If you explain she's a famous bard from afar, and that if he plays his Harrow deck right he might dally with both of you upon his return, that might make him feel the delay is worth his while," says the Qadiran. He gives a wry smile. "I may not know the ways of women well, but as a man, I know how we menfolk can be easily tempted and fooled by such coquettishness."
"Speak for yer self Kit, I have one woman for me and after all this is over I'll make her my wife" he says standing there leaning on his staff his cloak ragged covering the fine metal beneath.
"You are right on the mark," Bora replies to Kit. "I have considered those approaches, as well as their risks. I would like to keep my cover intact for future work, at least with this alias, but I will step up if need be."
She turns to Freyja, waiting to hear her response before committing to a course of action.
Aye.[/b[ Freyja replies with a knowing nod. [b]I was thinkin the same. And since I am a famous bard, and new to these parts, I think I can pull it off. But what shall my story be? I'll perform for the man, but only with my close on. My skill and inclination only go so far. How about I agree to perform for a small audience somewhere pleasant and we get this fellow an invite?
"That could work," Bora muses, rubbing her cheek thoughtfully. "I may have to spin a tale, though. There is a singer of growing fame who lives in Almas' North End. She is only known by the stage name 'Lady Silverglove,' which is just one of her eccentricities. Gol has spent considerable effort trying to coax her into a private performance for him, but she always rebuffs him.
"If I tell Gol that Silverglove is in Olfden, putting on a small performance, I am sure that he would take the bait. What's more, because of how secretive this diva keeps herself, there are not many public details that we'd need to worry about in relation to disguise."
"Or tell him you've arranged for a private performance, and then no one else will be able to stand up and shout that our dear Freyja isn't this 'Lady Silverglove'. We'll be nearby to monitor the situation, of course," says Qitaba.
”Okay. Should we make it known we are back in town or have the rest of us lay low? I am sure the corporate ninnies down south have already heard of Wulf and I.”
Freyja's journey brought her across the Inner Sea by ship, setting sail from Cassomir - after traveling overland from Oppara - and landing in Almas. While in the Andoren capital, she naturally gravitated to the Theater District in the city's North End. Within this dingy, rundown neighborhood home to many artists and performers, Freyja heard much about this Lady Silverglove.
You are also familiar with key aspects of her singing voice, such as how she easily slips from her mezzo-soprano register into contralto - a rather rare talent.
Kit gives Freyja a quick touch up on singing with an Andoren accent. "It's about having broad, somewhat flat vowels," he says.
I know this singer well enough to know she is not well loved by the guilds or business consortiums as she is an outspoken critic. What is the plan if out mark tries to have this Lady Silverglove put down?
"We burst in and rescue her, of course," says Kit. "Then we sedate Gol and put him in his carriage."
Kit's advice will surely come in handy as you unfurl this scheme.
"Time is running short. There is a cafe beside Maestro's Music that often hosts small, intimate performances from singers and other entertainers. Go to the owner and tell him that 'Old Man Apta's Girl' is calling in a favor. Explain that our diva there will be putting on a show for a special guest, and he will help you set the stage, so to speak. Go now."
Bora slips away to convince Gol to make one last detour before departing for Falcon's Hollow. Thus, she leaves you to follow her directions, leading you to the indicated cafe. The building is very open and looks like it was originally built to serve a tinker or cobbler. Only a few patrons sit among its narrow, round tables; they represent the town's middle class, artisans and merchants among them.
A well-dressed man, presumably the owner, sees you stop to observe the cafe and approaches you, asking if you would like to have a table.
Leaning in close to the well dressed man Freyja explanis in a quiet voice No, we do not need a table. You see, Old Man Apta's Girl is calling in a favor. We are in need of a place to perform a special show for a special gust and so will need s special stage.
Wulf will linger on the periphery as he observes trying not to draw too much attention to himself.
As will Kit.
The owner nods knowingly after hearing Freyja's introduction. He calls over the serving woman and they begin making the necessary preparations straight away. They move quickly, the invoked name spurring them on.
Within a half hour, the cafe is ready, and just in time for the arrival of Bora, Gol, and a handful of his hangers-on - less than half of the entourage you saw accompanying him earlier. The consortium director and his party are seated, and Gol scans the cafe eagerly, likely looking for any sign of Lady Silverglove.
Teasel following the others leads quietly makes get way out to pet her donkey. " Im not much for discretion and I stick out badly. I'll be with outside if you he's need me. Good kick everyone ," she says politely.
The cafe owner alights atop the shallow wooden stage, tucked into the corner of his shop. You see that he is visibly nervous, not nearly as used to deception as Miss Bora, but you hope that it goes unnoticed by Gol. He and his small entourage make up the lion's share of the audience, making the small cafe seem positively crowded.
"With more and more explorers bringing tales of lost cities and dwarven relics, it seems that sleepy old Olfden gets less sleepy by the day," he jokes, hazarding a cautious smile. "I never would've imagined we'd be a hotbed of excitement, much less culture. And yet, here we are. A famed diva from Almas has graced us with not just her presence, but the promise of a performance. It is my esteemed privilege to introduce Lady Silverglove!"
He punctuates this announcement with a sweeping wave of his arm in Freyja's direction, inviting her upon the stage to accept "her" accolades and begin the show.
A hooded dwarf with his beard loose and projecting out of the cowl comes into the bar.
His cloak has dust from the road on it and he carries a well worn pack with him. With a wordless nod to those who look his way, he looks for a spot to sit and watch the show.
With the proper fanfare delivered Freyja readies herself and steps onto the stage. She focuses on the the mannerisms of the person she pretends to be as she surveys the audience and manages not to pause her gaze on Gol. Once in position she addresses the crowd before she begins to sing. [b]Thank you for that kind introduction. As you might guess, rooms like this are not my normal stage. They can have their own tone and tembre. Let me sing a short popular tune to get the feel of the place and then I will get more serious.
The dwarf sits back and attempts to read the crowd, but his attention is especially intent on the Gol and his followers.
He says to the townsman next to him.
”She’s good yes!? I was told she is quite popular down south.”
Kit, not wanting to come in, knowing his Qadiran complexion will draw a look, hangs out beside the cafe. He pulls out pen and paper and begins to write notes, ostensibly about logging.
Wulf waits in the alley leaning against some barrels working on his staff. Seeking to make this dark wood staff.
Helgrim reads upon Gol's face that the first performance from "Lady Silverglove" is somewhat of a disappointment. While Freyja is an undeniable talented singer, her first attempt does not live up to the impossible expectations built within the Consortium director's mind. By contrast, although his entourage initially appeared skeptical of this detour for a singer, they are far more taken by Freyja's performance.
Bora sits beside Gol, shoulders pressed intimately together. With her own inaudible whispers, she attempts to keep him focused upon the singer he so long desired to experience. This remains a struggle - until Freyja, in her guise, launches into a "more serious" piece.
It is here that her voice enraptures even Director Gol, who leans forward and keeps his head propped up in his hands, elbows planted like pitons in the table. He and his entourage are so captivated that they never notice Bora slip Boggel's concoction into Gol's drink.
Thinking it best to end on a strong note. Freyja bows, and exits the stage and retakes her seat.
As the singer departs the stage, Bora exhorts Gol and his cronies to raise their cups and toast to the performance. At her behest, they soon down their drinks in honor of "Lady Silverglove" and how she graced them with her presence. Director Gol quaffs the doctored drink, never suspecting the ploy.