"Done," he agrees. "I shall ferret out this woman and her accomplices. How shall I contact you when I have the information?"
"Please, keep yourselves safe. You can contact me with some degree of discretion here, or at the Gold Goblin. Come to the event, it's a public thing, no reason not to be there. After that, I'll likely be taking ship, following that perfumed trail."
"Excellent," Natinilinus replies, spearing another polygon of griddlecake. "As soon as I have finished my repast, I shall begin to make inquiries."
Braddon and Snake trail behind Phillip, somewhat awkwardly matching their longer strides to his pace, as he retraces his steps north toward the ship-repair yard. On the river side of the open workshop, two ships are moored at the piers, but there's no way to read their names from the road.
Considering making through the workshop, Phil defers to his better judgement and begins to bend his path around. Before he goes too far though he quickly scans the foreshore for a vendor or relatively well entrenched beggar that might yield a quick answer to the question of whether the Jewel is at the shipyard or not.
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Phillip runs across no quicker or more convenient method of determining whether the Jewel is moored there than his eyes. Going around the northern end of the workshop, where the gap between buildings and thus the viewing angle are both wider, he can see that the larger and newer of the two ships is painted with the moniker Gozreh's Wayfinder while the smaller and shabbier bears the name Fearful Jewel. A few men can be seen on the piers and decks, although whether they are crew members or some of Cas Cazynsik's workers is unclear.
Holding up a hand to draw attention and following it with a cried "Hail the Fearful Jewel... I've a need to speak with Captain Teach, could you let me know where I might find him?" Phillip keeps his demeanour friendly enough, but with a spine of business to his words.
"Excellent," Natinilinus replies, spearing another polygon of griddlecake. "As soon as I have finished my repast, I shall begin to make inquiries."
"And I, similarly, but I'll not finish, and I'll be asking after my dwarf friend. Odd spot to be in, worrying, thought a fool, and hoping to be a fool, and worried for naught. Better a worrying fool, than a bereft wizard."
Gristav cuts the venison into gulpable gobbets, then raising the plate and flicking a storm of bits past the bars before Sludge. Raising the ale in a toasting motion, Gristav includes the gnome and hound, both, before quaffing the ale in a single stately quaver.
Setting down the tankard, toppled, on his emptied plate, Gris smiles. "Dwarfs say", he says solemnly, "Carry your ale in you." Strangely sobered at the scene, the half-elf departs.
"Wish me fool's luck!", he requests, calling back at the gnome.
The dog's ears perk up as the venison flies over the fence; even before the meat touches the paving stones, Sludge has maneuvered into position to snap them up before any other nearby vagabond, whether four-footed or two-, can react to the bounty.
Gristav departs the Three Billed Duck, heading south through blocks of buildings adorned with blooming flower boxes in colorful stripes at their rows of windows. Some have shops at street level with residences on the floors above; some are purely boarding houses like the Harbor View atop the cliff in Windward, albeit less spacious and elegant.
Passing down an alley, the half-elf emerges to find the atmosphere abruptly changed: no flowers, few pedestrians, and those that do pass through do so with a nervous quickness to their pace. He recognizes in the middle of the block the blank and looming rectangle of Zincher's Tenement, its windows barred rather than adorned with gardens. On the stoop in front of the door through which he passed to make business arrangements with Braddikar Faje, a cluster of large and forbidding men shoot dice with an air that conveys that they are more interested in blocking the entrance and surveilling the general area than in the outcome of the game.
South of Zincher's Tenement, the neighborhood fails to regain the vibrance and sense of prosperity seen in central Leeward. Here the shops are smaller, their windows grimier and the paint on their placards peeling; a few upper windows display an attempt at a flower box, but the haze of the Gas Forges tints the air here and stunts the health of the blooms.
Rotgut District, where even a half-hearted nod to respectability and tidiness is abandoned, lies ahead, but Gristav's destination is nearer. Following the miasmic plumes, he turns toward the southwest and makes for their source: the belching chimneys of the Gas Forges.
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"Hail the Fearful Jewel... I've a need to speak with Captain Teach, could you let me know where I might find him?"
The halfling's hail draws the attention of the men on the piers but not an immediate response from any of them. One figure looks up at the ship, then at the men around him before coming to the conclusion that no one else is going to answer. "Ahoy, young master halfling!" he calls back cheerfully, throwing his hand up and starting in the party's direction. "Afraid I'm with the Wayfinder, not the Jewel." He is a human male, something past his youth, dressed in clothes a little too courtly for Riddleport society. A slight paunch and a tendency to jowliness beneath his well-trimmed bread attest that he is accustomed to indulgence in his meals as well his wardrobe, but he beams with evident good nature as he approaches.
Responding with geniality Phillip deprecates "I'm neither young nor a master good man... though I thank you for the answer all the same. Could you help with the question asked?"
"Younger than I am, I'll wager," he winks. "You'll allow me to consider you young if it absolves me from admitting to age. The captain of the other craft? I'm afraid I can't claim a personal acquaintance. I believe the crew are at a local tavern, however. The Immortal Goat? Does that sound familiar?"
Snake follows the path of the halfling, keeping an eye out for trouble as they walk simply out of habit.
Hands wide with solemn words "A wager I'll not risk my coin upon, and aye the Goat rings a bell." remembering his turn at singing before it. Fishing into a pocket he retrieves a copper coin and shows it to the helpful sailor clear and clean, and after a brief flourish and obfuscation flicks it onwards towards the man...
Sleight of Hand:
...and proferring a slight bow "With thanks... and if you're idle ashore tomorrow night come past the Gold Goblin. Games and tables, drinks and dancing... first round would be on my grace." and reversing direction. His steps direct the trio back towards the wharf as he explains "Immortal Goat's a dockside tavern."
Expecting he knew the path to the offices, Gristav made his entitled way toward them, half expecting, half anticipating, running in to Tromard Roldheim, but happy enough to ask of any other first-found dwarf, "A document to be writ, in proper Dwarven legal forms. Who could tell me, what those are? Who has the right and practice, of making such?"
Gristav enters the small and bare office complex which represents the only aboveground portion of the Gas Forges apart from the massive chimneys which vent its fumes. At the same plain desk and chairs from which he was directed to Cleg Zincher's tenement, Tromard Roldheim is seated, looking up in startlement at the half-elf's abrupt query.
"Here now, what's all this about? Do I know you? Wait ... you're one of our couriers; I remember you now. Didn't have any trouble getting your badge, did you?"
Fishing into a pocket he retrieves a copper coin and shows it to the helpful sailor clear and clean, and after a brief flourish and obfuscation flicks it onwards towards the man...
"Desna's stars!" The man is surprised by the toss and juggles with both hands before finally securing the coin with a chuckle of triumph. "The Gold Goblin, you say? I can't speak for my own schedule at the moment, but I'll remember the invitation." Still chortling, he returns toward the pier.
and reversing direction. His steps direct the trio back towards the wharf as he explains "Immortal Goat's a dockside tavern."
Once again, the trio heads toward the waterfront, back into the press of sailors and stevedores. Phillip leads the other two through the traffic, which seems to follow no customary pattern, people heading both east and west on both sides of the boardwalk and darting across from dock to door or from alley to ship whenever an opening is spied. Except for the painted signs hanging above the heads of the passersby, the taverns are virtually identical to one another, many of the lower windows covered over with fresh lumber where they were broken in the tidal surge and haven't yet been repaired. The Immortal Goat is advertised by a somewhat faded placard depicting a grinning billy goat with a noose around its neck and multiple arrows with colorful fletching protruding from its body.
Braddon follows Phil, keeping an eye out for trouble, and addresses the halfling once they're away from the shipyard.
"He seemed pretty nice for a merchant. I wonder if he owns the ship or was just booking passage? Cluey to know where the crew of the Jewel are. Even the captains can barely keep track of their own crew, let alone someone else's."
Responding to Braddon upon the walk, Phillip concurs "Aye, seemed that way... which will be all the better if he does come tomorrow. Deeper pockets and all that." winking to the half-elf as he speaks "I'll keep a weather eye for him tomorrow and make sure we make him welcome."
Arriving at the Immortal Goat Phillip pauses and runs a hand through his hair, before warding both Snake and Braddon "Fairly rough these places... probably still too early in the day for trouble, but best be wary eh?" before fording through the door and scanning the interior - seeking to pick out a barman or maid amongst the gloom.
The Immortal Goat is furnished with a half-dozen mismatched tables and chairs, many of which appear to have been repaired multiple times or simply cobbled together from spare lumber. Most of these are occupied by sailors who glance up curiously when the party enters but show no particular interest in them.
Behind the warped counter stands a swarthy and heavyset man with salt-and-pepper stubble sprouting indiscriminately from his chin and his balding pate. He grins as Phillip approaches, revealing a sparse collection of gold teeth. "What's your poison?"
Sidling near to the bar, but not yet up to it... as that would prejudice the angle against his small frame, Phillip holds up three fingers "Rum." waiting for the shots to be poured as he muscles unto a stool.
His shot is drained in a single burning and bitter swallow before he asks "I've heard Captain Teach of the Fearful Jewel is at port here?" raising an eyebrow for affirmation before continuing if given "I've a need to speak to him or his."
The barkeep fills three greasy-looking glasses from a bottle but looks for coins to hit the counter before passing them across. "Teach, is it? What's your business with him?"
Phillip spins out as many silver as is requested by the barkeep before answering "Not business with, business for... and an invitation besides. I take it he's here then?"
Gristav enters the small and bare office complex which represents the only aboveground portion of the Gas Forges apart from the massive chimneys which vent its fumes. At the same plain desk and chairs from which he was directed to Cleg Zincher's tenement, Tromard Roldheim is seated, looking up in startlement at the half-elf's abrupt query.
"Here now, what's all this about? Do I know you? Wait ... you're one of our couriers; I remember you now. Didn't have any trouble getting your badge, did you?"
"Thereby hangs a tale. On the one hand, I'm told, told again, then confirmed, you sent me there to be beaten." Gristav let the thought breathe a bit. "On the other hand, might be I was sent here, told that, to beat you. But I wasn't beaten, and so I won't. Needn't even ponder the scenario, overmuch. I've another scenario; a man in need of a Dwarven scribe, and proper legal form and language. To whom would he go?"
The dwarf frowns at Gristav's vaguely accusatory insinuations. "We have an office staff that handles all our legal matters. What's it to do with you?"
"Not business with, business for... and an invitation besides. I take it he's here then?"
A voice from a table behind him replies. "Aye, he's here." The speaker is a sailor with a unkempt black beard; a half-dozen other men of similar appearance are at his table and add their own assertive stares to his challenging words. "Who's issuing what kind of invitation to the skipper of the Fearful Jewel?"
Phillip takes a deep breath and runs his left hand through his hair to settle himself before spinning on his barstool with his best showman's expression on. Hopping off the stool, but not approaching too close to what seems to be Teach's table he keeps his hands wide and clear of any threatening gesture "I am Phillip, of the Gold Goblin and it is on behalf of Ol' Stumpy himself that I'm offering an invitation to you and your crew - to attend to our casino tomorrow night as guests."
Smile maintained Phillip strips his pocketed scarf from within his jacket and performs a sleight as he continues "Wine, women and song await you on the gaming floor... where one's fortune is what one makes of it." aping an allusion to a varisi harrower first, followed by drawing a coin unseen from within the scarf to suggest the potential for financial gains. Holding to see what Teach's first reaction might be to the venture before knowing whether he needs to press or can simply close...
Snake remains quiet during the conversation. As the bartender flashes out the drinks, Snake picks up the shot glass and look at it a moment through narrowed eyes. A bit reluctant to drink from the filthy glass, Snake just about does until he hears a response from behind. Stopping half way up to his lips, he looks behind him before turning back toward the bar. Sighing, Oh yeah, this is gonna go well, he thinks sarcastically to himself as he places the drink back on the bar.
Placing his hands in his pockets, he casually turns around, keeping a watch on the others while Phillip turns the conversation to the speaker.
Snake cuts his eyes from Phillip to the sailor, awaiting the sailor's response.
The wary readiness of the men around the table eases off somewhat, as several chuckle at the halfling's performance. "Oh, aye?" the speaker replies a bit suspiciously. "And why does the Jewel in particular rate a personal invitation?"
Braddon takes and downs his shot of rum with practised fluency, then turns to lean his back to the bar and watch the show. Despite his relaxed stance, his eyes dart about the entire room and he keeps an ear out for the barkeep's footsteps behind the bar.
The dwarf frowns at Gristav's vaguely accusatory insinuations. "We have an office staff that handles all our legal matters. What's it to do with you?"
"No, let's have another round of not answering each other's questions first, eh? A refreshing change from the usual Dwarrow forthrightness. So, when you sent me near dawn to the threshers at Zincher's threshold, did you know that like most men, their eyes see only themselves, only chaff, to be winnowed? That's one of the questions you don't have to answer. Just be aware, when you send a courier to fetch a badge, you send them into a brace or four of unfed, hungry hounds. Send them, after breakfast."
"And know, when they return, they've crossed that threshold. Twice."
"Now, do I have to show the badge to get an answer? I need a document in proper Dwarven form. Who in this town can do it for me? Only the scribes in your employ? Or who else?"
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Seeing his first venture of words lever open the door, but not yet fling it wide Phillip presses. Scarf is returned coiled to his neck as the halfling settles into a two footed neutral stance and puts a sparkle to his eyes and jests "The Jewel I'm afraid might not fit through our doors" winking "It is Captain Teach to whom we entreat." running a few mental scenarios as to how to pitch the next step, before realising that a half truth would be easier to spin than a full lie.
To emphasize his words Phillip sets a coin to dancing across his knuckles, first copper, then silver, then copper again - making each disappear after being transitioned from his right to his left hand. The purpose of which to reinforce his appearance as a performer to allow inference to be drawn by the viewer "On Sunday we play, on Moonday..." letting his voice trail off indistinctly "we may be wistful searching for distant shores." faux dropping a coin that doesn't seem to hit the floor. Phillip pauses to hopefully allow Teach himself to connect the dots.
Then in final self-deprecation "Would you truly turn away a call to arms from the most prestigious and exclusive casino that will be open tomorrow? I beg you not to wound me so."
"Now, do I have to show the badge to get an answer? I need a document in proper Dwarven form. Who in this town can do it for me? Only the scribes in your employ? Or who else?"
The dwarf sneers unpleasantly. "If you approached Zincher with the same offensive manner you're employing here, I'm not surprised his men didn't take kindly to you. I haven't heard any complaints from our other couriers. Of course, if a man's qualified to carry a commission or payment overland, one would think he could handle a couple of thugs. You'd also think he'd be intelligent enough not to accuse those that provide his bread and butter of conspiring against him."
"We employ an office staff capable of handling our legal affairs. I believe that's all the information you're entitled to. Good day." He pointedly turns his attention back to the surface of his desk.
Then in final self-deprecation "Would you truly turn away a call to arms from the most prestigious and exclusive casino that will be open tomorrow? I beg you not to wound me so."
Another man at the table snickers. "Aye, if it's the only casino open on Sunday, I suppose it must be the most prestigious and exclusive. By those lights, it must also be the shabbiest and most crooked casino open tomorrow: is not that also true?"
"Now, do I have to show the badge to get an answer? I need a document in proper Dwarven form. Who in this town can do it for me? Only the scribes in your employ? Or who else?"The dwarf sneers unpleasantly. "If you approached Zincher with the same offensive manner you're employing here, I'm not surprised his men didn't take kindly to you. I haven't heard any complaints from our other couriers. Of course, if a man's qualified to carry a commission or payment overland, one would think he could handle a couple of thugs. You'd also think he'd be intelligent enough not to accuse those that provide his bread and butter of conspiring against him."
"We employ an office staff capable of handling our legal affairs. I believe that's all the information you're entitled to. Good day." He pointedly turns his attention back to the surface of his desk.
"As long as we're being generous, each to the other: It wasn't Zincher I met there, but men who said I'd been sent to be beaten, who said you'd wasted my time, who gave me this badge, and blessing, and welcome back. I am, as you said, a man who brings more fear to open country, than he finds there. What did you do, to anger them, that they wanted such a man, angry with you? That's another question, you aren't required to answer, but really ought to ponder, before assuming I'm your enemy, for sharing, their complaint."
"Good day."
Roldheim does not respond, continuing to ignore Gristav.
Roldheim does not respond, continuing to ignore Gristav.
Allowing his smirk to deepen Phillip takes the jibe in his stride, working it into the narrative "The man speaks truth and a fact I cannot deny, just as Edward Teach must be the most in-bred, scurrilous, and flatulent ship's captain...." a miniscule pause to allow the words to soak and the halfling to run both hands through his hair. As he brings his hands down a copper coin appears in his left and a gold coin in his right.
Finishing his pregnant sentence with a smirk "in this room. As with all things thought of alone..." using his skill at sleights to interlace his hands and alternately make the copper and gold coin appear alone in view "they are both low and high without comparison. When standing with one's arm around a lass of softer flesh... I beg you listen to her high praise than the mirror's lies."
Disappearing his coin props back into his pockets Phil holds his hands wide and finishes with raised eyebrow "So I say again to Captain Teach, would you say no to an invitation from the worst appointed sh1t hole of a casino that shall fling wide it's door tomorrow? If naught else you must be curious as to whether I or your man has the best of the reckoning?" a twinkle of challenge in his eye.
"Aye, well," the second man replies, "we're at the tender mercies of the damned carpenters at the moment, weaving us some sob story about a mysterious wave that ran up the price of lumber a few days ago. If we're still in port...," he shrugs. "As you point out, we'll have few options."
Smiling and taking the roundabout words as confirmation Phillip bows "Excellent good, to whom should the tokens for gifted liquor be bestowed?" seeking a confirmation of name before a second bow "I thank you my good men, and pray to see you all on the morrow"
Unless restrained or given reason to pause, Phillip then leads his taller companions back out onto the docks.
Why, Captain Teach, of course," the man grins. "He's the one issued the personal invitation, isn't he?"
The men watch the halfling leave the tavern with amusement.
Out on the boardwalk, the trio find themselves a momentary rock in the current of traffic; people come and go on either side of them, but if they don't set their own course soon, they'll be swept away in one direction or another.
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Gristav departs the Gas Forges, little wiser than when he walked in. All in all, it seems unlikely that Larur would have been welcome there after his refusal to participate in the company's cover-up regarding the face masks ... unless he had a personal friend among the office staff willing to help him under the table. He directs his course back Goblinward; perhaps the dwarf's worrisome absence will have resolved itself by now and he can get answers from the man himself.
Stepping out of the tavern, Phillip stretches his neck and cracks his knuckles. Almost as though a cold shower washes over him, the showmanship sloughs from his countenance and he resumes his more reflective mien. To the others he raises an eyebrow and queries "Onwards to the arena?"
Braddon grins.
"Sure. I'm up for another show."
Braddon doesn't seem to be referring to the previous day's trip to the arena.
Gristav jostles his way along the busy waterfront and turns north with the road that parallels the Velashu's eastern bank to make his way back to the Gold Goblin. He finds the Varisian entertainers once again active in the front courtyard, presumably having finished their lunch break, although Thuvalia is not in immediate evidence.
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Braddon, Phillip, and Snake step into the flow of traffic and allow themselves to be carried along in the choppy current until they can hop out into an alley that will take them behind the waterfront, between the blank walls of warehouses, to the looming foot of the massive stone arena. The gates stand open, and the bouts within are already underway; they face no impediment as they walk into the shade of the tunnel leading beneath the tiered seats and out into the blinding sun of the bowl.
The crowd is notably larger than it was the previous afternoon, the seats filled at least halfway up the tiers. The sun is almost directly overhead which combines with the closely-packed benches and the complete absence of a breeze within the walls to make the already hot summer day even hotter. Only the canopied boxes perched around the rim of the bowl look like they might offer a shred of comfort.
Gristav jostles his way along the busy waterfront and turns north with the road that parallels the Velashu's eastern bank to make his way back to the Gold Goblin. He finds the Varisian entertainers once again active in the front courtyard, presumably having finished their lunch break, although Thuvalia is not in immediate evidence.
"Egun on, baina bihar hobea.", Gristav hopes. "Da nire itxaropena, hori da egia laguntzeko. Nire izena Gristav da."
A woman with a long dark braid chuckles at Gristav's stilted greeting, giving a fellow instrumentalist a nudge. The man steps forward to offer a hand to shake, a smirk on his lips. "Jal," he introduces himself. "Please, don't strain yourself. When in Oppara, do as the Taldans do, eh?" He speaks Taldane with only a light accent.
After forging into the arena Phillip is bouyed to see it packed. Calling to Braddon and Snake "Ranef isn't fighting until late... after the bear baiting. Betwixt now and then I'll be aiming to do some barker-ing for the Goblin. Do you men want to secure a spot in the stands while I while away at that? - or have you a turn of the lyrical within you?"
A woman with a long dark braid chuckles at Gristav's stilted greeting, giving a fellow instrumentalist a nudge. The man steps forward to offer a hand to shake, a smirk on his lips. "Jal," he introduces himself. "Please, don't strain yourself. When in Oppara, do as the Taldans do, eh?" He speaks Taldane with only a light accent.
Smiling at being laughed at, Gristav replies, "We're not putting on a Taldan show.", he observes brightly. "And you may learn, of me, it's no strain, to overspeak.", he began in Taldane, then changed to Varisi again, "Hitz nire lehen lagunak izan ziren, eta beti izan dira niretzat dantzatzen."
Smiling at what he hoped had shown far greater fluency than before, Gris didn't push his luck, and went back to Taldane. "I'm told I'm to be the lustful fool, and preyed upon by beautiful women? Ergela en Iruzir, she called it. Or is there a new plan? That wouldn't surprise me."
Jal exchanges a surprised glance with the woman before confirming to Gristav, "Aye, Ergela. You know the dance?"