Jal exchanges a surprised glance with the woman before confirming to Gristav, "Aye, Ergela. You know the dance?"
"Well, I play the fool, often enough, and lustful, in such company, I think I can manage.", Gristav plays. "As for true dance, I have worked hard, these past days, to remember, all I saw, while travelling, in vardos. I think I will now embarrass myself less. If braided miss-" the half-elf nods in Tienish respect, "might put herself in my arms, I'll put myself in your hands. Judge me, worthy or not, of the act."
Snake shakes his head, "Not me, bub. I'll be finding the seats. Hopefully where there's some shade," he says as the sweat drops from the end of his nose, although, he doesn't pay it any mind. "You can look for me there." He then attempts to obtain seats within the shaded area.
Nodding and winking Phil helpfully suggests with a jest "Just scowl a bit... someone might recognize you and make way" turning to Braddon with a raised eyebrow for his response.
He stops a moment, slightly turning his head to the side as he actually ponders that. "Hm," he mutters, sounding as if that might not be a bad idea and continues on.
"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?"
Braddon looks slightly alarmed.
"Words and me... not so good. I can convince them they'll win- humans love being told what they want to hear. And I can scare off trouble makers. But I'm not... nice with words."Braddon nods.
"I'll stick with Snake unless you think there might be some trouble."
Smirking "You'd be surprised Braddon... there's many that'd believe your fumbled words over my silken ones at first blushing. But no problems, I'll seek you out after a short passing... should I bring snacks?" waiting for an answer before making a beeline for either the betting lines or food lines... whichever is nearer.
"Of course." Braddon's grin returns once more.
Jal exchanges a surprised glance with the woman before confirming to Gristav, "Aye, Ergela. You know the dance?""Well, I play the fool, often enough, and lustful, in such company, I think I can manage.", Gristav plays. "As for true dance, I have worked hard, these past days, to remember, all I saw, while travelling, in vardos. I think I will now embarrass myself less. If braided miss-" the half-elf nods in Tienish respect, "might put herself in my arms, I'll put myself in your hands. Judge me, worthy or not, of the act."
"I mean... Of the performance."
Any possible double entendre in Gristav's wording goes unnoticed thanks to the language barrier.
"I am a musician, not a dancer," the woman protests, with a slightly thicker accent than the man's.
He shrugs. "Dantza bat ikusi duzue," he points out. "Still," he goes on, turning back to Gristav, "it is not our place to approve dancers. You will have to speak with the gnome ... or the lehen zaldi, no?" He smiles slyly.
Lehen zaldi literally means the lead horse in a team pulling a wagon but can be used figuratively as the equivalent of diva or prima donna; clearly he is referring to Thuvalia.
------------------------------
Braddon and Snake make their way up the steps toward the rim of the arena. The sun is still too high in the heavens for the nearest canopied box to cast a very long shadow, but they can sit in the row just in front of it and get some relief. The box itself is empty and unused, its curtains drawn on all sides. From this height the oval of sand below appears tiny, the difference between the human and the half-orc fighting only barely discernible.
------------------------------
Phillip remembers that the betting windows and the concession stand alike are located in the bowels of the arena, beneath the tiers of seats. Retracing his steps into the shade of the tunnel, he takes a side turning and soon finds his way into the large open room, betting windows on the sand side and concessions on the street side, with light and a hint of hot breeze making their way in through windows high above. People are queued up on both sides, eager to give away their money in return for either food and drink or for a chance at winning more.
Before getting into the thick of things, Phil takes a moment to one side feigning a need to stretch his neck. His attentive eyes scan over the ins, outs and interested parties within the area - checking what guards or security there is and whether they are gendarmes or another group. He didn't plan to do anything that would engender a need for them to accost him... but it always paid to be cautious.
Any possible double entendre in Gristav's wording goes unnoticed thanks to the language barrier.
"I am a musician, not a dancer," the woman protests, with a slightly thicker accent than the man's.
He shrugs. "Dantza bat ikusi duzue," he points out. "Still," he goes on, turning back to Gristav, "it is not our place to approve dancers. You will have to speak with the gnome ... or the lehen zaldi, no?" He smiles slyly.
In consideration of the barrier, Gristav steps across the linguistic divide, and speaks in the common language of the gathered three, rather than the common Taldane tongue.
"Txori Txiki, you might hear. Bele Txiki, perhaps. Which of course means, The little pretty one", Gristav said smiling, a smile that said he knew very well, Bele meant 'Crow'. "She, of course, is a very good dancer. Don't worry, she won't let you forget it."
"Well, Jal, miss...", Gristav nods to each, more deeply to the unintroduced musician, "I must now seek a dwarf. And perhaps a gnome, or a crow..."
Gristav climbs the stairs to the verandah and enters by the open double doors. Within he finds Thuvalia with three Varisians; the tables and chairs have pushed to one side to clear a space on the new carpet for the dancers to go through their paces. Thuvalia is keeping up a steady commentary on her fellows' performance in the absence of music, as they step through the forms.
"Bai, era honetan .... Mantendu zure begiak nitaz, mesedez, ez eskuak lapur txikia poltsikoetan on .... Talde modu daudelarik! Azkarrago egon behar duzu .... Ondo! Ez gustatzen behi baldarra...."
Behind the island of pushed-aside tables, Tendal is seated at the bar, a glass of wine in his head and a mild frown on his face as he supervises the practice. Seeing Gristav enter, he nods a greeting.
In the busy concourse, Phillip finds a secluded nook where he is unlikely to be stepped on and casts an expert eye over the scene. He sees no one in uniform; indeed he has spied no Gendarmes in evidence at the arena either yesterday or today.
Near the betting windows, however, he lays eyes on some large and capable-looking men whose watchfulness and lack of movement mark them as security as certainly as coordinated attire would. There seem to be two for every three windows.
There are only two visible ways into the room, unless one is possessed of wings to fly through the high windows or a ladder to reach the small door on the catwalk from which the odds are updated: a tunnel on either side like the one he just entered through. There is no apparent access to the cashiers' offices, other than the barred windows likely too small for even he to slip through. Undoubtedly, there is an employees' entrance elsewhere in the bowels of the stadium. There is likewise no evident door to the kitchen area, although it would be far simpler to leap over the wide counter there.
Gristav climbs the stairs to the verandah and enters by the open double doors. Within he finds Thuvalia with three Varisians; the tables and chairs have pushed to one side to clear a space on the new carpet for the dancers to go through their paces. Thuvalia is keeping up a steady commentary on her fellows' performance in the absence of music, as they step through the forms.
"Bai, era honetan .... Mantendu zure begiak nitaz, mesedez, ez eskuak lapur txikia poltsikoetan on .... Talde modu daudelarik! Azkarrago egon behar duzu .... Ondo! Ez gustatzen behi baldarra...."
Good that I didn't press the braid, only to turn out to be wasting her time...
Behind the island of pushed-aside tables, Tendal is seated at the bar, a glass of wine in his head and a mild frown on his face as he supervises the practice. Seeing Gristav enter, he nods a greeting.
Gristav returns the nod, not slowing overmuch en route to Larur's office, but hoping with a questioning look, a height-held hand, and a point at the door, to ask if Tendal knew if Larur was in.
The wizard frowns and shrugs, apparently having no information to impart.
Gristav skirts the edge of the room, giving the dancers plenty of leeway, and makes his way to the small queueing area off of which Larur's office opens. To his disappointment, he opens the door to find it still empty and visibly unchanged since his last inspection.
Braddon and Snake make their way up the steps toward the rim of the arena. The sun is still too high in the heavens for the nearest canopied box to cast a very long shadow, but they can sit in the row just in front of it and get some relief. The box itself is empty and unused, its curtains drawn on all sides. From this height the oval of sand below appears tiny, the difference between the human and the half-orc fighting only barely discernible.
"How are you supposed to see anything from up here? You may as well be betting on the guy on the left," Braddon complains as the combatants circle each other.
"Maybe, that's how they make their money. You turn up at the window and they just tell you that your guy lost and how are you to know any different."Braddon leans forward to see the fight better, but keeps talking to Snake.
"So what's with you and Roderick's Cove? Or did I ask you that yesterday already?"
"How are you supposed to see anything from up here? You may as well be betting on the guy on the left," Braddon complains as the combatants circle each other.
"Maybe, that's how they make their money. You turn up at the window and they just tell you that your guy lost and how are you to know any different."Braddon leans forward to see the fight better, but keeps talking to Snake.
"So what's with you and Roderick's Cove? Or did I ask you that yesterday already?"
Snake slowly turns his attention to the incessantly whiny ranger, his scowl deepening until he finally stops and changes the subject. Looking back upon the arena - and completely uncaring on who's fighting or winning, "I don't know, bub. I wished I did. But if what Beltias said was true, then apparently I work for Marzo. I was hoping that blade you finished him off with wouldn't have finished him off. I had a lot of questions for him." Shaking his head in defeat, "A lot of unanswered questions that I may never find the answers to. Of course, if I do find those answers, I may not like what I find."
Contented Phillip ingratiates himself into the lines of people, queuing first for the bettors before eventually turning to do the same at the concessions. As he does so he loudly and somewhat tunelessly converses with anyone that he's able to make eye contact with... prattling an aimless wandering that invariably ends with a mention of the Gold Goblin, usually as a query as to whether the other member of the conversation had heard of it - as Phillip had been told it was worth a look, someone he knew had made a killing at the tables... the usual sort of prattle.
For bets, Phillip near replicates his order of the day prior - a gold on the longest odds, and a second on Ranef.
Phillip doesn't manage to stir up any great wave of interest in the Goblin -- most queueing bettors do their best to ignore the chatty halfling, more interested in their immediate chances than tomorrow's plans, and one replies quizzically, "The Gold Goblin? Pretty sure that shut down after it got robbed" -- but he comforts himself that at least he's getting the name out there.
Today, placing his bet on the longest odds means he's backing a half-orc. The cashier remains professionally bland as he fills out the ticket, but the man in line behind Phil sniggers.
The wizard frowns and shrugs, apparently having no information to impart.
Gristav skirts the edge of the room, giving the dancers plenty of leeway, and makes his way to the small queueing area off of which Larur's office opens. To his disappointment, he opens the door to find it still empty and visibly unchanged since his last inspection.
Clouds gathered in his mind, winds that blew away teasing crows, gloom that greyed the shine from a length of lovely braid. Leaving the room, locking the door, Gristav let the winds carry him downstairs, not really knowing, nor really caring, whether the storm, if it came, would bring rain, or thunder. The cleverest part of his mind seemed to have left.
It would have observed, that of course, such a storm would bring both.
Gristav crosses back across the western edge of the casino floor and into the kitchen, where he picks up and lights a lamp before taking the stairs down to the basement. Beneath the surface of the earth, the temperature is slightly lower, though the air is stale. Returning to Larur's bedroom, the half-elf finds it, like the office, unchanged. It does not appear anyone has been there since he checked it this morning.
"A lot of unanswered questions that I may never find the answers to. Of course, if I do find those answers, I may not like what I find."
Braddon nods understandingly.
"That's a lot to live with. Don't worry, you'll find a way. Human's are resilient like that."
Contented that at least an effort is something the halfling turns to the food stands and seeks snacks for the longshanks above... paying particular attention to what might carry spice and interest.
Gristav crosses back across the western edge of the casino floor and into the kitchen, where he picks up and lights a lamp before taking the stairs down to the basement. Beneath the surface of the earth, the temperature is slightly lower, though the air is stale. Returning to Larur's bedroom, the half-elf finds it, like the office, unchanged. It does not appear anyone has been there since he checked it this morning.
Grumbling in accidental emulation of thunder, Gristav walks the entirety of the Goblin's delves, from the kennels to the pit to the second bar, eventually surfacing into the main room.
He makes for Tendal, at the bar.
The aroma coming from the kitchens is surprisingly appetizing, a mixture of fresh bread, butter, seasoned meat, spices, and ale. Sadly, the height of the counter is such that his view of the comestibles on offer is best from farther back in the queue, but he is able to pick out doughy knots of bread, jars of glazed, spiced nuts, sizzling meat on skewers, and tapped kegs of ale, along with a few other offerings less recognizable from a distance. He also notes that the prices are at least twice what a person might pay a street vendor or kiosk for similar fare; whoever wins on the sand, Zincher must turn a tidy profit from his captive audience.
------------------------------
Gristav's lamplit search of the basement turns up nothing sinister or out of place; indeed, most of the subterranean portion of the Goblin, save the dwarf's room and the corridor down which Weatherby was imprisoned, appears to have witnessed no recent traffic whatsoever.
Climbing back up the stairs to the kitchen, Gristav exits onto the casino floor, where the dancing practice is still going on, and continues his circuit of the room's edges on his way to the bar and Tendal.
The mark-up from captivity of interest was expected, though Phillip happily ignores it as he secures a smattering of bread, meat, nuts and drink... though he'd also likely need to makeshift some kind of tray to carry it through... or at least co-opt the services of someone taller and more manly to assist him in seeing it delivered to where the hungry and thirsty companions await him.
Having foreseen the need, the kitchen is happy to provide Phillip with a wicker basket to carry his purchases back to his seats ... for an additional fee, of course. "No need to bring it back down here," the woman behind the counter assures him. "Just leave it in the stands when you leave; it'll be collected." The initials ZA are stamped in large and unmistakable letters on all sides of the basket in bold dye, to discourage theft.
With a nod and a lightened purse Phillip takes the basket of assorted artery hardening weapons and begins the arduous task of lugging it into the stands.
Phillip drags his basket back the way he came. Stepping out into the sun, he stands blinking a moment, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the light after his time in the concourse. When the blinding white begins to fade into discernible objects again, he turns to look up toward the canopied box Snake had pointed out as his destination and spies the pair sitting in what thin sliver of shade they can find. The sun will be sinking to the west, however, so the area of the penumbra should only continue to grow as the shadow trickles down the tiers of benches.
------------------------------
While Braddon is squinting at the miniature figures on the tiny field of battle, Snake notices Phillip many rows below them, standing blinking in the sunlight and toting a large basket he is having a hard time keeping off the ground at his height.
Narrowing his eyes to make sure it's Phillip, he notices the load he's carrying. "I'll be back," he tells Braddon as he heads down to help out the halfling with the load if need be. As he makes his way to him, "A little help?" he offers.
Smiling and heaving the laden basket upwards Phillip adds "I'll not refuse" before following Snake back up to where Braddon lies in wait. By way of explanation "Food and beverage." is all he adds before squinting at the distant figures upon the sand.
As they make their way back, Snake sets the lunch down and takes some for himself as he returns to his seat. "So... who's winning?" he asks Braddon as he takes a bite.
The basket is emblazoned on all sides with a large and seemingly indelible 'ZA' and contains warm knots of bread, meat skewers, paper cones full of glazed, spiced nuts, and three lidded tankards of ale which have slopped over the edges only a little.
Gristav's lamplit search of the basement turns up nothing sinister or out of place; indeed, most of the subterranean portion of the Goblin, save the dwarf's room and the corridor down which Weatherby was imprisoned, appears to have witnessed no recent traffic whatsoever.
Climbing back up the stairs to the kitchen, Gristav exits onto the casino floor, where the dancing practice is still going on, and continues his circuit of the room's edges on his way to the bar and Tendal.
Leaning against the bar, not toward, but close enough to, Tendal, Gristav asks him softly, "When was the last time you saw Larur?"
"Thanks."
Braddon helps himself to a meat skewer, places a roll in his mouth and grabs the ale with his other hand before answering Snake's question.
"Ffe gef mm ffe rfft ef wrmmrng."
A curl of the lip at Braddon's muffled words Phillip crunches on a nut and ventures "Anyone interested in a few side bets to make the watching a bit more interesting?"
"Thanks."
Braddon helps himself to a meat skewer, places a roll in his mouth and grabs the ale with his other hand before answering Snake's question.
"Ffe gef mm ffe rfft ef wrmmrng."
Snake stretches his neck forward, trying to get a better view of the fight, "No, I don't think so, bub. It looks like the other guy's got the upper hand," he responds, acting as if he understood all that.
A curl of the lip at Braddon's muffled words Phillip crunches on a nut and ventures "Anyone interested in a few side bets to make the watching a bit more interesting?"
Turning his attention to the halfling, he looks to be pondering it a moment before, "What kind of wager are we talking about?"
Taking the thread and spinning it further "Well we could be crass and just make it for money... but I would think that higher stakes would be more fitting." looking up with dangerously twinkling eyes as he pops another nut into his mouth "Favors, dares and duties..."
"When was the last time you saw Larur?"
Tendal frowns. "He wasn't at breakfast. At dinner last night, I suppose.... No, wait, he didn't turn up then, either. Sometime before then, apparently. All of us who were in the building had lunch together; I know he was here then. He was concerned about someone sabotaging the dance floor." He gives a subconscious glance toward the open doors leading out to the courtyard.
Taking the thread and spinning it further "Well we could be crass and just make it for money... but I would think that higher stakes would be more fitting." looking up with dangerously twinkling eyes as he pops another nut into his mouth "Favors, dares and duties..."
Braddon raises an eyebrow, but merely takes a swig of ale to wash down the roll.
The breadknots are surprisingly salty. It's almost as if the arena is purposely serving highly-seasoned snacks in order to sell more drinks.
Taking the thread and spinning it further "Well we could be crass and just make it for money... but I would think that higher stakes would be more fitting." looking up with dangerously twinkling eyes as he pops another nut into his mouth "Favors, dares and duties..."
Raising an eyebrow of his own, a slight grin forms. "Hm. Yeah, I don't think so, bub. I like to know what it is I'm betting on. No way I'm leaving myself open to your whims, Raccoon, if I'm to lose. I've no desire to be dancing in the streets wearing a maiden's outfit while singing a lullaby to the neighbor's plant. Now, if you've got specifics already in mind then I'm listening. Otherwise..." he looks over at Braddon who's feeding his face, "How about you, bub? You interested? This strikes me as right up your alley."
Sharing the slight sense of whimsy "Pity... you've such a fine singing voice." shrugging as he expounds "Was thinking more along the lines of who was to handle Thuvalia and bring our companion to speed on our plans... surely the joy of accompanying Gristav in his search for the Cloud would be an honour worthy of fighting for?..." quizzically raised eyebrow rampant.
Pondering the idea a moment, he internally cringes at the thought of losing but if he were to win... "You're on. So what are we bettin' on? A winner-take-all one fight only? Several fights? How's this gonna work?"
Arms wide "I made the wager, it's only fair if you decide the terms" before popping another nut in his mouth.
Braddon sneers at Thuvalia's name.
"I'm out. I don't want to risk losing this job just because I killed her before Saul ordered me too."
Glancing over at Braddon, he scratches his chin a moment in thought. "Alright, well, how many fights do they have? And how is a winner determined? I'm guessing 'death' isn't the way to lose. That'd just be bad business. Is there a list of who fights who beforehand or is it all just a big surprise?"
Phillip fills Snake in on what he knows of the bills...
..."Generally to a fall and not to death... though death I'd imagine could come for them at times. The pantomine is keeping the games rolling week on week... so it wouldn't pay to run through too many bodies."