Braddon looks down at his hands, sheathes his weapons, and climbs up after Snake.
Snake crosses to the window and sizes up the available footholds and handholds. They look small and closely-spaced for a man of his size, being presumably made for the use of halflings, but he nevertheless steps up onto the low windowsill and swings himself out onto the exterior of the building...
...the rotting wood and stucco of which immediately crumbles under his weight. Rather than a dangerous plummet into the debris-strewn alley, however, the witch suffers only a leisurely drift down to the street.
Satisfied with the exchange of goods and having made sure that both your gem and your new purchase is safely stowed before venturing into the public eye, you emerge onto the street to the melodic tinkle of the bell at Hassan's door. Across the way, you spy Tendal in the midst of a handful of boys at the foot of one of the more graphic broadsides in Cleg Zincher's public gallery.
----------------------------
"Who do you favor in the upcoming matches, and where do I place a wager?" Tendal asked, shifting his conversation and hoping that the boys ignored the slight hesitation.
The boys gaze up at the wizard with a mixture of awe and suspicion, unused to being addressed by men with such an elegant wardrobe and polite form of address.
"Zincher's men always beat those filthy old half-orcs!" one boy replies with jingoistic loyalty, his chest swelling with racial pride.
"Not the Notorious Punisher," another boy objects. "He almost never gets beaten."
"Aw, you're just a filthy orc-lover," the first boy jeers. "You gonna go catch you a wife in Belkzen when you grow up and have a litter of filthy half-orcs?"
"There ain't no more fights until Fireday," a third boy replies, ignoring the digression in favor of the original question. "Then you can bet in the Arena," he nods toward the barred and locked gate. "Betcha there's spiders next week. There was supposed to be spiders this week with the cattle knife-throwers, and there weren't no spiders."
As he lands neatly, he looks back up toward the others, straightening his coat as he does. "Never mind! Be waiting for you down here!" he yells up at them. He then pulls out his morningstar and keeps an eye out for any would-be ambushers.
"There ain't no more fights until Fireday," a third boy replies, ignoring the digression in favor of the original question. "Then you can bet in the Arena," he nods toward the barred and locked gate. "Betcha there's spiders next week. There was supposed to be spiders this week with the cattle knife-throwers, and there weren't no spiders."
"No spiders? Interesting, I wonder what happened to them. Any rumors about where they ended up?" Tendal asked, curiously. "That would have been a marvelous battle to behold...knives flying and spiders scuttling and so on."
Curious, this little arena is like a half-hearted Serpent's Run. I wonder if Zincher knows he is merely aping what is already banal spectacle in Magnimar.
Spying Tendal within the knot of younglings... Phillip's first thought is of whether Magnimar was about to be relieved of his purse. A bring exchange of thought passes before he counts himself intrigued enough to head in their direction. Running a hand through his hair and smoothing out his mustache the halfling draws near enough to be able to overhear the conversation... as well as keep a weather eye on what other small hands might be reaching for things that don't belong to them.
If Tendal's eyes wander in his direction, Phillip offers a raise of his chin by way of non-verbal acknowledgement before raising an eyebrow in similarly silent query of whether he was in need of assistance.
Observing the spectacle of the softened descent, Gristav nods in acknowledgement of the Art, smiling toward Kane, but nodding toward Luck.
Then, with that Name in his head, he glances to Braddon, and steps to the window. "An arm out, could you? And if I'm unopposed...", Gristav pauses. ...the whole matter's pointless. "I'll offer you an arm up. And if I fail, opposed..." A gesture conjures an ounce bottle into his opening palm. "Drink that. And get them."
Hoping for help from Braddon , a foot on the sill, a knee's step from that, a steadying hand, Gristav, smirking, strives into the ascent...
Braddon watches the wall crumble away from under Snake with horror.
"Actually, I think I'll guard this room. But happy to give you a hand."
Braddon offers his hand to Gristav and looks quizzically at the article placed in it.
"What is it?" He pockets the vial and returns his arm to grasp Gristav.
"A potion. For climbing. But it should be saved for something more important than a stranger's purse. We're chasing thieves. But if they push me off, murderers. Use it to avenge me, or to save Sam, someday..."
Snake finds himself in a narrow alleyway, surrounded by trash, broken crates, empty bottles, smashed-in barrels, and other obstacles. From the street behind the house, the pickpocketed stranger gapes at him over the intervening debris. "What the--? What are you made of, gossamer and pixie wings?" he demands.
Above Snake's head, undeterred by his ally's failure, Gristav emerges from the window. Avoiding the larger pits in the building's surface left behind by Snake's fall, the half-elf places his weight on other handholds ... and finds them equal to the task of supporting him. His progress is tested differently: As soon as he has transferred his weight fully away from the windowsill and is clinging precariously to the side of the building, a Small face appears over the rooftop, grinning down at him evilly.
At the same moment, the burgled man lets out a cry. "There he is!" Raising his crossbow, he looses a bolt at the Small target which sails harmlessly over his head.
The halfling himself tosses a dagger down at the half-elf climbing up toward him. Unable to dodge, Gristav watches helplessly as the point of the Small blade plummets toward his arm and traces a long, bleeding line in its flight. The wound is a slight one, but its sequel is more serious. Involuntarily flinching from the sudden pain, the half-elf loses his grip on the wall and tumbles with the blade into the alley, landing with a cloud of mildew spores and splintering of rotten wood next to Snake.
--------------------------------------
"No spiders? Interesting, I wonder what happened to them. Any rumors about where they ended up?" Tendal asked, curiously. "That would have been a marvelous battle to behold...knives flying and spiders scuttling and so on."
"Probably late cargo," the boy shrugs. "It happens. Hope they'll get her for next weekend."
While Tendal is musing whether Zincher is aware that he is merely a big fish in a small pond, he spies Phillip, who has just emerged from a small shop across the road. A painted wooden placard hanging above the door identifies it as the Bazaar of the Seafaring Peddlar; impossibly blue waves lap at the bottom corner of the words, and a brightly-colored ship peeks over the horizon of the oversized 'B' of Bazaar. Freshly-washed windows of multiple hand-sized panes of glass on either side of the door display eclectic wares: glass and wooden windchimes, brightly-enameled pottery, necklaces of knotted cord and hand-painted beads, hammered copper bracelets and earrings, tiny stone idols, small carved chests, and gewgaws and knick-knacks of all kinds.
Mr. Hargreaves, coming out of a very curious shop. Perhaps he was getting something for a lady, some gewgaw or whatnot? Never the matter. I need to see what he thinks about the dwarf.
"Lads, thank you for the education, but it is time for me to rejoin my colleague. I look forward to seeing the Notorious Punisher's exploits." he said, as he walked away from the boys and over to Phillip.
"Good afternoon Mr. Hargreaves. I hope that your transactions were successful.", he began with a pleasant greeting as he walked across the street to rejoin the halfling. "It is fortuitous that we intersected paths here. I had need of a colleague to discuss a thought of mine. I believe I nearly made a ghastly error, but was able to stop myself in the process. Are you heading back to the Gold Goblin, or about some other errand?" Tendal asked. "If you are, I would like to bend your ear about my thought, but it is not so pressing that if you have other matters that you must attend too, that it cannot keep."
Rolling his shoulders in a languid shrug Phillip retorts "Transaction went as well as might be expected, and my path was indeed back t'wards the Goblin... though a touch of something browned and tasty wouldn't be astray either." his stomach rumbling a reminder that lunch hadn't yet been submitted to it.
Proffering a hand in direction before starting an amble "Consider my ear bent if you wish to twist it... what's on your mind?"
"Good enough then. I will tell you my thoughts as we find some repast. I believe we will be busy enough this evening, and we should be well fortified before we return." Tendal says, motioning down the street for Phillip to take the lead.
"I however haven't determined too many reputable eating establishments as of yet. So if you can suggest one or another, that would be excellent."
Once moving Tendal leans down closer to Phillip, an awkward conspiratorial motion, half bent over, half shuffling down the street to keep his balance while walking. Realizing how ridiculous he looks, Tendal snaps back upright again. "While I would like to intimate my thoughts to you, it doesn't seem practical out here on the street. I will wait until we are at our repast."
...Gristav emerges from the window.
...places his weight on the handholds
...and finds them equal to the task of supporting him.
"Well, that's luck!", Gris grins at Braddon.
His progress is tested differently: As soon as he has transferred his weight fully away from the windowsill and is clinging precariously to the side of the building, a Small face appears over the rooftop, grinning down at him evilly.
At the same moment, the burgled man lets out a cry. "There he is!" Raising his crossbow, he looses a bolt at the Small target which sails harmlessly over his head.
The halfling himself tosses a dagger down at the half-elf climbing up toward him. Unable to dodge, Gristav watches helplessly as the point of the Small blade plummets toward his arm and traces a long, bleeding line in its flight. The wound is a slight one, but its sequel is more serious. Involuntarily flinching from the sudden pain, the half-elf loses his grip on the wall and tumbles with the blade into the alley, landing with a cloud of mildew spores and splintering of rotten wood next to Snake.
Gusting from the impact, then coughing from the dust, Gristav groans in celebration of his twin remaining hit points, chuckling and coughing at once. Half-dead, he calls to the crossbowman, half in jest, "We've found him." Gris rolls sideways to his hands and knees, less to seek to rise, more to get off his back-slung staff.
Braddon quaffs the potion and starts climbing up to the roof.
"I knew it!" he crows.
Snake finds himself in a narrow alleyway, surrounded by trash, broken crates, empty bottles, smashed-in barrels, and other obstacles. From the street behind the house, the pickpocketed stranger gapes at him over the intervening debris. "What the--? What are you made of, gossamer and pixie wings?" he demands.
Snake looks to the man curiously a moment before responding, "You got a problem with that?" he asks candidly. Next thing he knows a loud crash has him quickly dodging out of the way in order to avoid whatever it is being thrown down at him until he realizes it's Gristav. Gathering himself, he moves over to the fallen magus. "That's gotta hurt, bub," he states as a matter of fact and with the slightest of grins. He then reaches down and helps the half-elf to his feet. As he does, the familiar glow within his eyes can be seen as he lets loose the healing energies from within.
"A bit of advice: probably best you stay away from rooftops," he says in what one might take as a lighthearted tone. Looking back up toward the roof, "Pretty boy gonna take 'em down? Let's hope he doesn't take the same tumble. He looks like he's a bit higher than you were."
Braddon downs the potion and goes out the window, ignoring the foot- and handholds and climbing up the outside of the building like Cleg Zincher's spiders. The grin on the halfling's face turns into a scowl.
"A bit of advice: probably best you stay away from rooftops," he says in what one might take as a lighthearted tone. Looking back up toward the roof, "Pretty boy gonna take 'em down? Let's hope he doesn't take the same tumble. He looks like he's a bit higher than you were."
"Further than I got.", Gristav says, hoping to re-align some vertebrae with a standing twist. "Thank you. We can support him from here. I still think your lights could distract the roof's guardians."
For his part, Gristav raises his staff, and conjures another crack of crystal-clear cold...
"Perhaps you should try again?
Braddon scuttles diagonally up the wall, out of the halfling's reach, and over the ledge to stand nearby. He keeps a careful eye out for the other halfling.
Cracking a half-grin at Tendal's back-breaking endeavor Phil nods "Aye, a few places about... though could just as easily grab some fare from the street and get back to the Goblin... save us a mite in time spent walking." leaving the choice up to Tendal to decide.
If Tendal is against heading back to the Goblin - then Phil meanders his way t'wards the Duck.
The pickpocketed stranger shoves a new bolt into his crossbow and takes another shot which again fails to hit the halfling on the rooftop.
You only see the one halfling; the other has had plenty of time to put some distance between you, if he chose to do that, or he could be hiding somewhere nearby. Your Small opponent throws the dagger in his hand. It hits your chain shirt with a scrape of metal but fails to penetrate your armor. Drawing another weapon with a snarl, he backs toward the rainbarrel.
From the alley below, Gristav and Snake see a flash in the sunlight as the halfling throws his dagger at Braddon; then the Small fellow moves away from the edge and disappears from their view. They can still see the top half of Braddon where he alit on the rooftop.
--------------------------------------
Tendal's frown deepens for a second as he envisions grease dribbling down the front of his doublet from some vendor's foul meat pie as he bites into it.
I think not.
"I believe that we are close to the Stumbling Duck, are we not? That establishment has provided suitable repast in the past. It should be sufficient for our needs."
His mental map of the city in his mind, Tendal strides out towards the Duck, only remembering after his second step to shorten his march.
"My pardons." he says quietly to Phillip, as he sets a more sedate, ambling pace. "I seem to have less manners and more haste recently. A disagreeable state which I will endeavor to rectify."
With nary a shrug Phillip falls in line, attempting as much as he's able to keep at Tendal's side so as not to be trailing him around. To pass time on the walk he returns "Both mutable depending on what the interest is that needs be served. Most manners presented are pretense at any case."
It's not far from Zincher's Arena to the Three-Billed Duck. Even crossing Leeward Common isn't the adventure on a lazy Sunday it might be any other day; there are both fewer shoppers and fewer merchants, as many farmers also take advantage of a day off.
The Three-Billed Duck seems to be doing relatively brisk business, however, as the two approach. Several of the outside tables on the cobblestones are filled, despite the heat of the midday sun.
Braddon shouts down to the others as he disappears from the edge "I can only see one up here. The other is probably cowering in this barrel. I'll toss down the bodies."
He swings low and hard with both hands on his bastard sword, attempting to finish things quickly.
Gristav begins working his way through the rubbish and rubble, choosing as a destination the side of the building not already covered by the crossbowman complainant. Over his shoulder to Snake, he says, "You could try to ascend again; you're protected against failure, in ways we aren't. Or draw a bow, and help me, or him-", Gris nods at the crossbowman, "draw a circle around this building."
"Or not.", Gris adds, clearing the corner.
Tendal eyes the Three-Billed Duck's current customer load as they approach. "I think that I would like to get a seat inside, if possible. Less ears to hear." he says making a bee-line for the front door and motioning with his cane at the first server he lays eyes on.
Gristav limps his way carefully back to the front of the building, where the window the group unbarred to get into the house still stands open.
-----------------------------
Tendal enters the Three-Billed Duck, accompanied by Phillip, and motions grandly with his cane at a harried-looking waitress. Having heard his request for a table with a modicum of privacy, she offers, "There's the table in the back corner that's just left. If you'll give me just a moment to deliver this tray, I'll see it cleared and set for two."
Still looking up, "Or not sounds good. I'm just gonna sit back and watch the show." Not really wanting to follow Gristav, he does so anyway.
Giving the waitress a wink Philip implores "No flowers mind" and waits for the table to be cleared and some semblance of security given to them before becoming somewhat more serious. He smooths out his mustache before pushing "So, what's the rub?"
"Ow, you're good with those."
Braddon steps forward and swings the bastard sword again with both hands.
"Don't worry, I brought a spare."
Braddon grins as he switches his grip to wield the bastard sword one handed and draws his magical short sword with his other hand.
Snake follows Gristav to the front of the building.
"What are we going to do?" the stranger calls down the alley after them, glancing up at the unseen struggle on the rooftop. "Is your friend going to be all right up there?"
"Ow, you're good with those."
"Damn straight," the halfling replies, casually ducking Braddon's next swing. "Better than you are with that. Tell you the truth, that one over there's the match for my main hand," he goes on, pointing briefly with one dagger to the discarded one on the rooftop before stabbing you twice in each thigh once again. "This blade's not as good. It's just for throwing, in case I can't get it back." He takes in your pale face and labored breathing and smiles. "Good thing I'll have a chance to pick it up before I go. Don't be a hero, and stay alive."
-----------------------------------
Phil and Tendal wait, trying to stay out of the way of the waitstaff going about their business, until the girl carries away the plates and mugs from the table she indicated and gives it a quick swipe with a damp cloth.
Still looking up, "Or not sounds good. I'm just gonna sit back and watch the show." Not really wanting to follow Gristav, he does so anyway.
"The more faces of the cube we cover, the less likely it's all for nought...", Gristav reasons aloud, when he becomes aware he's got company. He moves to the corner of the building, evidencing that at least himself, is swayed by his reasoning.
Gristav moves to the opposite front corner of the house, across from the boarded-up front door, while backing up into the street until he can spy the top of Braddon's head above the edge of the roof.
The stranger shrugs and disappears from view back behind the building.
Shaking his head as he's tired of listening to the magus, "You do that, bub. Cover all you want but stopping bugging the hell out of me. Because you know what, I really don't care. If Braddon doesn't kill 'em and they get away, oh well. We move on and this stranger guy who we know about as well as we know those halflings, will move on as well. Or, he can chase them down himself. I don't care which. This is his problem and I'm not sure why we made it ours."
"This isn't even my fight."
"There you gentlemen go." The waitress steps aside to allow Tendal and Phillip access to the corner booth she has just cleaned off. "Can I bring you a drink? What will you have?"
"Clever fellow," the halfling responds, sliding one blade into its scabbard as he crosses the roof and picking up his other dagger, keeping his eyes cautiously on you the whole time.
"Thank you. Whatever wine you feel is passable will be quite excellent." Tendal says, flipping out his coat-tails as he takes a seat.
As the waitress leaves, Tendal leans forward. "You know of the sudden absence of Laur, correct?" Tendal asks Phillip, in a near whisper.
"I am concerned that nothing has been done to ascertain his current whereabouts. Or if something has been done, I have not been made privy too it. I was about to talk to some of the street urchins to see if I could put a word out that any information as to his current whereabouts would be rewarded handsomely...well handsomely for an urchin at least. I realized that saying something about his absence may not be at all known outside of our little circle at the Goblin, and that spreading it about might be counterproductive."
Shaking his head as he's tired of listening to the magus, "You do that, bub. Cover all you want but stopping bugging the hell out of me. Because you know what, I really don't care. If Braddon doesn't kill 'em and they get away, oh well. We move on and this stranger guy who we know about as well as we know those halflings, will move on as well. Or, he can chase them down himself. I don't care which. This is his problem and I'm not sure why we made it ours."
Gristav raises a disappointed brow. "We worked together, however poorly, that much is a success. Were it a simpler success, or better together, you might be smiling. Don't pout at bad dice, enjoy the rattling before the next toss. It will be made, in any case..."
Gristav continues watching, giving Snake a greater space as seemed requested.
To the serving girl Phil asks "Port, strong and sweet... mulled if you have any. Bread and cheese?" the postscript added hopefully.
Once alone and Tendal outlays his concern, Philip smiles wryly and there is a relief of tension from his body "Aye, I know of the dwarf making himself absent... suffice to say that his man Gristav's looking to it." running a hand through his moppish hair as he mulls further words. "Best man for that job far as I can see it given he was and still is Larur's man more than Saul's. That and I was a bit more distracted with night time activities..." both falsely murderous and potentially profitable.
"Man or dwarf wants to not be found in Riddleport we'd be hard pressed to find them... or if someone else wants him to not be found. Either he'll show up or he won't... let Gristav bear the worry... and we can focus on this evening." pausing a moment before delicately adding "I'd ward off using any of the urchins though... they're the Whoremistresses... and she doesn't appreciate other people playing with her toys. You could seek to get the word out through the slip network if you like though? - I've a man who could see that done." suggesting that the halfling network could be just as or more useful than Shorafa's younglings.
Braddon makes no move to interfere with the halfling but does reach carefully into his pack for his healing potion.
"I just need a drink."
If allowed, he withdraws it slowly, making no sudden movements, and shows it to the halfling, though his eyes do note his newly purchased alchemical toy in his pack also.
Tendal leans back in his chair and taps his chin for a moment, thinking.
If Gristav is Larur's man...then it is possible that he is helping the dwarf not be present. Or that he is held up by distraction from Vankaskerkin. In any regard it might be best to find some additional avenue of inquiry to see if there is something unfortunate going on. I know that a smart enemy would seek to remove support from Vankaskerkin before striking the killing blow. Therefore, evidence, of foul play or not, must be found.
"I am not familiar with the slip network, but it sounds like you are." Tendal pauses for a moment before continuing, "If such a network can be successfully engaged to seek out any shred of evidence, be it good or ill about Larur's whereabouts, that would be an excellent start to stabilizing affairs at the Goblin."
"You are correct though, this evening must be our primary focus. I suspect that as we are only open on a very limited time table, that our adversaries must use every available opportunity to strike at us. Thus, there must be a strike tonight, from some quarter."
"I will furnish funds to engage your network, or a reward for useful information, if you will engage this network tomorrow."
"This evening, if you would be so kind, I would like to use your eyes to look over the Goblin before the festivities begin to look for anything untoward, while I look for anything arcane. After dinner, of course."
"Less of a network of agents as it is a spiderweb of ears and voices... but I'll put the question out regardless." inclining his head slightly to acknowledge that Tendal would intend to foot any moderate expense incurred.
The topic of the Goblin and the chance of excitement lends itself to a sigh and healthy sip from his port glass. He ruminates "Aye... though it hasn't stopped some parties having a swipe earlier in the week. What with our arachnoidal delivery and Shorafa's diversion." shrugging his shoulders "I'm reminded of my time back in the City of Monuments."
"That is when dusk falls and you're in the street... shadows are everywhere. You've not to know which door hides a Sczarni knife, or which is safe harbour. A pragmatic man doesn't forge ahead nor hide... but draws the bastards towards them." words said matter-of-factly rather than with maliciousness. "If they mean us ill... best they try it at the Goblin... where we'll be waiting."
With a slight wink Phillip continues "I'd hope you'd think less of me if I hadn't already cased the Goblin once or twice... but I'll take a turn once more." thinking of suggesting to put either eyes or crossbow in the roof before witholding that thought in favor of another. "I don't trust Bojasc... what's your read on him?"
Tendal smirks as Phillip describes life on the streets of Magnimar. "I totally agree about the City, although in the salons of Magnimar, the danger is slower, more venomous, rather than the quick knife. Danger is always unseen. Not to say that I was ever particulary good at identifying threats." Tendal smiles ruefully at this before continuing, "I have made plenty of mistakes...kissing adders when I should have been stabbing them. So while I admit my ability to parse out motive is limited, I have to agree, there is something that doesn't sit right with me about Bojasc."
He picks up his wine glass and swirls it around a bit before continuing. "My best option is simple vigilance. If I know a threat, I can be well prepared for it, I am not so good with unknowns."
"Is there something that you know specifically that sets your nerves a-jangle?", he asks.
Gristav watches Braddon move toward the back of the building until the half-elf is no longer visible from the street in front of the house.
Braddon makes no move to interfere with the halfling but does reach carefully into his pack for his healing potion.
"I just need a drink."
"Fine," the halfling responds, slowly crossing the roof with both daggers at the ready, not taking his eyes off you. "Just stay where you are."
---------------------------------
In due time, Tendal and Phillip are provided with food and beverage in the busy dining room of the Three-Billed Duck.
Giving a slight shrug "Predominately Saul's deference to him" choosing to withhold the threat of sexual violence against Samaritha "When an elevated man follows the orders of his lesser it generally implies there's another man pulling the strings somewhere out of view."
Braddon sighs as the liquid suffuses him and drops the empty aside, over the edge of the building.
"And maybe another?"
Gristav watches Braddon move toward the back of the building until the half-elf is no longer visible from the street in front of the house.
"Just for future reference", Gristav asks of Snake, "When you are out of sight among hostiles, we are to pay no mind? You'll find a roof or window? I suppose eventually, you will find the bottom."
Gristav moves anticlockwise around the house, one eye on the roofline, hopeful for Braddon, watchful for foemen...
"I'd have thought someone of your skill wouldn't be wasting time robbing peasants. Have you considered bounty hunting?"
Braddon watches to see if the halfling will cross the bridge and imagines the small person bursting into flames mid way.