Snake returns to the others when it's apparent that the stranger is nowhere to be found.
Braddon dumps the body unceremoniously and carefully checks the box to see if it's trapped or locked. When someone more experienced looks at it, Braddon begins searching through the rest of the closet.
After a few moments walking, Tendal leads Phillip into the wine cellar, the light streaming off the knob of his cantip-cast cane suddenly reflecting from the myriad of bottles.
"I was in the process of doing my arcane examination of the grounds of the Gold Goblin when a thought struck me. We had already discussed how it would not be hard to have some less than arcane way of causing mischief. So it struck me while I searched this room that it would not be difficult, I imagine, to tamper with the wine bottles. Possibly by inserting some tincture or concoction into the vintage to injure our guests. I however am not equipped to look for such methods of adulteration. I simply don't have the skill set, nor the quick eyes. While I don't know if you have skills that would assist you in discerning such adulteration, Mr. Hargreaves, I do know that you are sharp of eye and keen of sense. I would ask for your assistance in allaying my concern." Tendal entreats.
"Not to pry...", Gristav begins, jimmying a crate open with one of the lesser of the found daggers (unless a more proper tool is in sight), "But perhaps one of these crates would be a more dignified conveyance for the disabled combattant? Merely accidental, then, to learn what's within..."
Gristav leaves the lifting more messier to les messieurs, instead leveraging his own gifts, magical and mental...
...and meddlesome.
"Mister Kane, given your falling speed, might I make to you a present of tools to increase your climbing speed? One ought to build on the strengths at hand."
An internal roll of the eyes follows just more busywork, but Phillip is apt to keep such thoughts internal rather than expressed. Reaching within his armor a hand is placed upon the tri-pointed symbol that represents his faith in the individual and he spends a good few moments sifting through what lies upon the surface...
Phillip instructs Tendal to withdraw his light spell to the doorway, as dim light more readily reveals the telltale signs of tampering to his eye. The wine cellar looks to be little used: footprints are easily discerned in the dust on the floor, at least two sets, one presumably Tendal's in his earlier inspection. However, while at least one other person has made a circuit of this room, none of the bottles or kegs appear to have been touched or moved, much less opened; the dust is still thick and undisturbed.
-------------------------------------
The lockbox contains a flat metal case holding 5 cigars, a garnet necklace, a gold holy symbol of Besmara, and a pouch holding 25 gold and 5 platinum coins.
Many of crates still have chalk symbols scrawled on them, not unlike those on the wine and the spiders delivered to the Gold Goblin; most are empty, while a few held basic gear and supplies like rope and sailcloth which have rotted to uselessness. However, one of the crates in the back corner proves quite heavy; when opened, it contains what looks like a large pack for a mule or other beast of burden. It will probably take unpacking and examination to figure out what it's for ... and that might be better done in more secure surroundings.
Slipped between two of the crates, Gristav finds a packet of papers that looks familiar....
Calling Tendal back Phillip shrugs "Nothing to see and little to be seen. None of the stock has been tweaked as far as I can tell."
"But perhaps one of these crates would be a more dignified conveyance for the disabled combattant? Merely accidental, then, to learn what's within..."
"Great idea. And it'll draw less attention on the streets."
Braddon selects the smallest crate he can find, manacles the halfling, and squeezes him in. Braddon seems to have chosen specifically to exclude comfort as a factor for the new occupant.
"Be sure he has room to breathe", Gristav directs, holding up the packet. "This is what was missing from the Goblin, same time as the dwarf. I need that hobbit to be able to talk."
Gristav pondered the packet a long grim silent while, while Braddon packed his prey. "Thank You.", he breathed, only so loud as to be heard if the intended ear were quite close. Or Omnipresent.
"To the chemist's then? It's closer?" Shrugging at the mule's pack, Gristav bemoaned, "I expect I can carry that. For a time."
Beginning the engineering of taking on that burden, Gristav reasoned, "Likely both these bundles are going to the Goblin, though..."
"He's got Goblin stuff? Maybe we should track down the other one. He was smarter though- smart enough to not cross me and think he could walk away."
"Larur's documents. Larur is missing, and would not have been parted from them. I know you'd like to return to the chemist, but, I'd like to ask that we return to the Goblin. It'd be nice to find the other, but this one, and the only package of interest from this scene, might be enough, to find, or to trade, for Larur."
"The other was undisciplined enough to call this one's name. And yes, probably smart enough to go for help. We've our own, evident ally, who might have insight on the two we met today."
"Let's be off, in whatever direction."
Tendal watches Phillip's inspection of the bottles with interest for the first few minutes, then as his silent contemplation gets longer, he begins to lose focus and starts drawing runes in the dust at his feet with the end of his cane. He looks up as Phillip announces his findings.
"Then that is the last thing that I was concerned about. I appreciate you taking the time to look over the stock." Tendal says, both pleased and displeased that nothing was found.
"I imagine that there is nothing to do other than deal with whatever comes, as we have prepared the field to the highest standards that we are able."
Tendal walks over to the wine rack and selects a bottle off the shelf. "This one appears to be one of the more recent purchases. I haven't had much from last year's pressing yet. In the interest of researching the currently available vintages, I feel that it is imperative that I sample this bottle." Tendal says as he starts heading back up towards the casino. "If you care to join me as we wait for the evening's festivities, I will be at the bar."
Smiling outward of gritted teeth Phillip gives a generous nod as Tendal selects a bottle and moves upwards. The halfling waits until Magnimar's travelled a good half dozen steps out of the cellar before internally justifying that he deserves some kind of payment for the imposition of the inspection. Ferreting out a couple of the better bottles of port on offer he takes one in each hand and slinks his own way upwards... though his destination is his own chambers rather than the bar.
"Let's be off, in whatever direction."
"Fine. We'll head to the goblin and find out why these guys have Larur's mail. But after we've finished with him, I get to take the body to the alchemist. After all, he gave me a discount."
"Fair is fair. Perhaps we'll pay back the discount."
Gristav mutters and mumbles, and motions and magics, and the soot and soiling slide from himself and Braddon, and Kane if he'll stand for it. "Best foot forward, and all that. Eyes open for the other."
Taking a deep breath, "Let's just go."
Braddon, Gristav, and Snake depart the halflings' erstwhile lair, bearing two crates, the lighter one containing the badly-burned halfling, the heavier, the unidentified pack. Cutting through to the Wharf District to get out of Rotgut more quickly, they blend in with the stevedores moving cargo as best their unsailorly clothing and demeanor will allow.
Having traversed the length of the wharves, the trio (and their unconscious guest) turn northward along the road that leads to Saul's casino. Behind the oversized gilt goblin glinting in the sun, an asymmetrical makeshift pavilion screens part of the courtyard from view from the street; past that and up the stairs, the double doors on the verandah stand open.
Ill gotten port secured in his room, Phillip is just emerging to the main floor of the Goblin when...
"Phillip. Package here, bound for the cellars, will need your attention. You might prefer it be sooner. I apologize for making the judgment that you should see it soonest. No disrespect is intended. Hope to see you, in the cellar..."
Gristav doesn't slow whatever progress is being made in that regard, and continues on, hoping Phillip will attend, and leaving further details to come with further progress away from the more public areas of the Goblin.
From the bar, Tendal sees Braddon, Gristav, and Snake enter the casino, carrying two large and cumbersome crates. Braddon and Gristav look somewhat the worse for wear; Gristav, in particular, is sporting several large scrapes and bruises.
They head across the floor, in the direction of the kitchen and the stairs.
Braddon aids with the delivery of the crates.
"You'll never guess what we found. It's not spiders."
Where particular people have congregated...
"No, indeed not spiders. The smaller crate contains a hobbit. A live hobbit, a skilled warrior, felled, in my analysis, by Braddon's boldness, and my luck- bad, and then good. Snake was, as typical, useful, lessening our burdens, and taking the let-downs lightly."
"There's a second hobbit, at large. And we need to know everything we can, because..." A gesture produces a sealed packet from wherever it had been. "This is the packet I'm to take to Larur's brother in the event of his end. It disappeared the same time Larur did. Presumably, by the dwarf's hand and choice. We found it, with that bundle, and little else, in the place that we found the warrior."
"Oh. And his armor: magical, a light chainmail."
"I hope you'll see or find your interest in this matter. I trust your intellect." "Each of you."
Phillip takes in what Gristav has spilled without comment, eyes narrowing and darkening as the details are picked from the avalanche falling from the magi's mouth. Cautiously he raises an eyebrow and queries "And what exactly would you have me do with the halfling?"
"I was going to kill it and show it to the alchemist."
Braddon looks at the faces around him and decides an explanation is called for.
"The alchemist was a dwarf. Not the dwarf. Gristav thought he could find the dwarf. He, the alchemist, not he, Gristav."
Braddon sighs at the slow understanding of the others.
"We were looking for the dwarf. Gristav's dwarf. He figured the dwarf would know. The alchemist. I didn't like him (the alchemist, not Gristav) until he sold me this awesome stuff. It was like a tanglefoot bag, but it burst into flames when it hits its target. And he sold it to me, for a discount, if I told him how it worked. But he knew nothing about the dwarf, so we left, and this guy came out all running like "I've been robbed." and so we went into this building and I killed their monkey but they escaped onto the roof so I climbed up (Gristav helped... ooh here, I have one of them)..."
Braddon produces his own potion of climbing and offers it to Gristav while continuing with his dramatic recount of the morning's exciting events.
"... and this little guy came at me and sliced me to ribbons. I couldn't touch him and he hacked me and stabbed me like I was a pin cushion and he took me down, but as he walked a plank between the roofs I chucked the alchemist's tangle fire bag at him and he went up in flames. He made it to the roof but he rolled around burning and screaming and on fire and it was so funny I almost forgot how badly hurt I was. But he's tough and still got up again, so I shot him and he ran down the chimney where Gristav nailed him. Anyway, the smart one is long gone so we took their stuff and they had the dwarf's papers. I knew this guy wasn't just a regular thief. Someone that good must be working for one of the bosses against us. So Gristav reckoned he'd be more use alive."
"Wanna talk to him?" Braddon offers genially.
Seeing the group enter with the bundle Tendal drifts after them, back down into the recently evacuated wine cellar, a glass of deeply burgundy wine in one hand, the cane in his other. A small smile inches its way across Tendal's face as he listens to what the others were up to.
Well, they likely have disrupted whatever the threat was for this evening...
"...Someone that good must be working for one of the bosses against us. So Gristav reckoned he'd be more use alive."
"Wanna talk to him?" Braddon offers genially.
"If you gentlemen don't mind, I would like to examine whatever papers that you were able to obtain. I do not have any skill at extracting information from an individual be it through coercion or trickery."
"Gristav. If I may ask, you were given a package by Larur at some point in the past, with the instructions to give it to his brother if he vanished? The package was stolen from you and you were able to recover it from this personage?" he asked, waving his cane toward the crate.
Phillip takes in what Gristav has spilled without comment, eyes narrowing and darkening as the details are picked from the avalanche falling from the magi's mouth. Cautiously he raises an eyebrow and queries "And what exactly would you have me do with the halfling?"
"I was going to kill it and show it to the alchemist."
Braddon looks at the faces around him and decides an explanation is called for.
Gristav winces at the proposition.
"The alchemist was a dwarf. Not the dwarf. Gristav thought he could find the dwarf. He, the alchemist, not he, Gristav."
Braddon sighs at the slow understanding of the others.
"We were looking for the dwarf. Gristav's dwarf. He figured the dwarf would know. The alchemist. I didn't like him (the alchemist, not Gristav) until he sold me this awesome stuff. It was like a tanglefoot bag, but it burst into flames when it hits its target. And he sold it to me, for a discount, if I told him how it worked. But he knew nothing about the dwarf, so we left, and this guy came out all running like "I've been robbed." and so we went into this building and I killed their monkey but they escaped onto the roof so I climbed up (Gristav helped... ooh here, I have one of them)..."
Braddon produces his own potion of climbing and offers it to Gristav while continuing with his dramatic recount of the morning's exciting events.
"Thank you.", Gristav says softly, smiling at the exposition from Braddon's point of view.
"... and this little guy came at me and sliced me to ribbons. I couldn't touch him and he hacked me and stabbed me like I was a pin cushion and he took me down, but as he walked a plank between the roofs I chucked the alchemist's tangle fire bag at him and he went up in flames. He made it to the roof but he rolled around burning and screaming and on fire and it was so funny I almost forgot how badly hurt I was. But he's tough and still got up again, so I shot him and he ran down the chimney where Gristav nailed him. Anyway, the smart one is long gone so we took their stuff and they had the dwarf's papers. I knew this guy wasn't just a regular thief. Someone that good must be working for one of the bosses against us. So Gristav reckoned he'd be more use alive."
"Wanna talk to him?" Braddon offers genially.
"It was my hope, Mapache, that you'd put eyes on the fellow, then be away before he put his eyes on you, in the hope he's someday welcome to leave with them. I know your people aren't monolithic; there's no single great coffee-clatch you all attend. But there are such clatches, and the events of the day ought to be a large stone in that pond. We'd like to speak with this other, as much as we'd like to speak with the original 'victim', who might have been a provocateur. You see, the packet was not kept with their treasures, nor taken in their flight, but hidden, -poorly-, I found it, in the room. Why take time to hide it, if you're about to flee?"
Seeing the group enter with the bundle Tendal drifts after them, back down into the recently evacuated wine cellar, a glass of deeply burgundy wine in one hand, the cane in his other. A small smile inches its way across Tendal's face as he listens to what the others were up to.
Well, they likely have disrupted whatever the threat was for this evening...
"...Someone that good must be working for one of the bosses against us. So Gristav reckoned he'd be more use alive."
"Wanna talk to him?" Braddon offers genially.
"If you gentlemen don't mind, I would like to examine whatever papers that you were able to obtain. I do not have any skill at extracting information from an individual be it through coercion or trickery."
"Gristav. If I may ask, you were given a package by Larur at some point in the past, with the instructions to give it to his brother if he vanished? The package was stolen from you and you were able to recover it from this personage?" he asked, waving his cane toward the crate.
"Nearly exactly. The package, this package, sealed and for his brother, was in his desk drawer, a key shared to me, and I was charged with delivering it, should time come. It went missing from the drawer the same time we noticed Larur missing. And then it was found today. I don't think it should be unsealed. But I'm willing to be convinced otherwise." Not to belie his own words, Gristav tucks the packet away, and is reminded...
"Oh. And Mapache, these are... more you than anyone else. Braddon's may be the more ready dagger, but yours, should be the sharpest." Gristav holds forth the masterwork small daggers.
Having carried the crates downstairs to the basement and through the first available door, the conversation ensues in the wine cellar....
Phillip pinches the bridge of his nose as first Braddon and then Gristav speak. Rather than seek a depth of narrative understanding he focuses upon the question of the halfling. Incredulous of voice he raises an eyebrow as he addresses Gristav "You have a jaundiced idea of the slip community in this town. If he's skilled enough to cut apart Braddon then the housekeepers and seamstresses of Riddleport are not going to be gossiping about his disappearance. Words might pass at the whoremistresses or Zinchers..." letting his voice trail off to intimate how ludicrous it would be to go poking around those 'clatches' for answers.
Pointing to the crate "You want answers, the halfling is the link... you want me to speak to him then you'll need to give me some liberties in the manner of which that discussion takes place."
Snake shrugs at Phillip's demand. "Works for me. Just make sure he doesn't have a knife and his hands are free. Because if he does, he won't miss," he warns.
Pointing to the crate "You want answers, the halfling is the link... you want me to speak to him then you'll need to give me some liberties in the manner of which that discussion takes place."
"You've my confidence. Let's move him to the lower basement; there'll be serving staff coming, looking for wine, and not moans."
With additional discretion obtained, Gristav investigates the greater bundle.
"Gristav, it occurs to me that if the papers were removed from Larur's room, and were in the possession of these miscreants, then it would cast an ill light on your hypothesis of Mr. Vankaskerkin's involvement. The weight of evidence now points toward external forces, where previously there had been no evidence whatsoever.", he pauses, his face in its normal frown as he thinks for a moment.
"That isn't to say that Mr. Vankaskerkin was not involved peripherally. I still believe it most likely that Larur is either being used as a dagger against him, or that Larur himself has certain issues in his past, which have now awoke. If Larur did not have suspicions about substantive enemies, then why write anything in the first place? Why go through the effort to notify you about them?"
"Changing the subject, I do believe that Mr. Hargreaves should have his attempt at coercing the assailant."
With additional discretion obtained, Gristav investigates the greater bundle.
Rolled up inside the canvas pack is a heavy apparatus of coarse rope and wooden slats; in a pocket in the covering are eight pitons. It appears that, if it were to be completely unrolled, it would be something more than thirty feet in length.
It is a portable bridge, but it seems it could likewise be used as a ladder in a pinch.
Giving a short nod, Phillip turns to Braddon with a query "Care to tag along?" before taking a glance within the crate to take stock of the target. Noting the quiescence he sighs haste makes waste one supposes, likely need expend some curative to get answers now rather than later. As he regards the unconscious hunk of meat, he peers within to see what it's heartfelt desires are...
Intrigued Phillip purses his lips while mouthing "My my... interesting"
Giving a short nod, Phillip turns to Braddon with a query "Care to tag along?"
"Happy to help. Should I boil some water?"
Half smirk on his face Phillip shakes his head "Nah, can't afford to damage him too much when we haven't the ease of waking him back up. Your manacles could prove handy though..."
From there Phillip and Braddon hike the crate down to where the scribe was imprisoned, looking to manhandle the halfling into a chair before manacling his right hand to left foot underneath and through the legs of the chair.
"Gristav, it occurs to me that if the papers were removed from Larur's room, and were in the possession of these miscreants, then it would cast an ill light on your hypothesis of Mr. Vankaskerkin's involvement. The weight of evidence now points toward external forces, where previously there had been no evidence whatsoever.", he pauses, his face in its normal frown as he thinks for a moment.
"That isn't to say that Mr. Vankaskerkin was not involved peripherally. I still believe it most likely that Larur is either being used as a dagger against him, or that Larur himself has certain issues in his past, which have now awoke. If Larur did not have suspicions about substantive enemies, then why write anything in the first place? Why go through the effort to notify you about them?"
"Substantive enemies are a given. But nobody is cleared yet. It all may be academic. It doesn't matter to the table, which tine is sharpest. But if Larur had the confidence you fault me for lacking, why involve me at all? That's me teasing; it's not to say he lacked that confidence. Three parties is good practice, as a good stool has three legs."
"I hope you don't find insult in my not offering the papers to perusal; my instructions were they are for his brother, and they are sealed. I would not do Larur the disservice of doing his brother the disservice of bringing him a broken seal, to worry over. And I do hope, I do intend, to return the packet to Larur, both being intact."
"If that proves impossible, I hope to prove a sharp tine, indeed. I don't know, who to be angry at- if to be angry, yet."
"Changing the subject, I do believe that Mr. Hargreaves should have his attempt at coercing the assailant."
"I have to wonder, how much we're abrogating Saul's perogatives, in coming to that agreement. As Larur's man, I think my choice is clear. I suppose, most truly, we are each our own man."
With additional discretion obtained, Gristav investigates the greater bundle.Rolled up inside the canvas pack is a heavy apparatus of coarse rope and wooden slats; in a pocket in the covering are eight pitons. It appears that, if it were to be completely unrolled, it would be something more than thirty feet in length.
It is a portable bridge, but it seems it could likewise be used as a ladder in a pinch.
"Thirty...ish feet? Of bridge?", Gristav estimates aloud. "Snake, in your memory, from the room where we found this, where would this have reached?"
"Snake, in your memory, from the room where we found this, where would this have reached?"
Across the street, maybe, if it were possible to drive a piton into a wooden floor or windowsill. Or down to street-level, if used as a ladder.
Judging from the creases and dust on the canvas pack, the bridge doesn't look like it has been used at all. It's possible that the closet was simply where the halflings stored stolen goods; the various crates had various chalk scrawls marking their intended destinations from the harbor, like Saul's goblin and Zincher's sword.
Braddon carries the badly-burned halfling down the stairs to the subbasement while Phillip procures a lamp to light the way. They acquire a chair from the infimary as they pass and manage to prop the limp form up in it and secure the prisoner among the straw-strewn cages of the kennel where the scribe Weatherby was recently in residence.
He then reaches into his armor and retrieves one of the potions that he purchased just this morning from Samaritha, a curative, and pours it into the unwilling mouth of the captive...
"Words should work okay. I told him he beat me and stood down and he turned his back on me to cross a plank forty feet up. And people call me dumb."
Braddon looms over their manacled captive, short sword at the ready.
"Snake, in your memory, from the room where we found this, where would this have reached?"
Inspecting the apparatus, "If used as a bridge: Probably across the street as long as you've got some way to secure it. Used as a ladder: Street level. But this one here has never been used. I guess they've could've used it a time ago but I wouldn't wager on that considering how dusty the thing is. I'd wager that this thing was just another item added to their collection within that closet. And if you noticed the different markings upon the various crates - you know, kinda like Saul's goblin mark - it looks like these items had places to go." As he stops to observe the mark for a moment, "What I wanna know is who do these markings belong to and what happens when they don't receive what they're expecting. It's either gonna bring us more trouble or..."
Braddon shrugs. "Better him than me. His name's Liam."
Snake stops to observe the mark for a moment, "What I wanna know is who do these markings belong to and what happens when they don't receive what they're expecting. It's either gonna bring us more trouble or..."
"It's a good point. Who is missing it, and what purpose did they have for it? Good questions, but until we know what allies the keepers had, any inquiries need to be discrete."
"I suppose, if the marks aren't secret, finding a similar mark and asking what it means would not be tipping a hand."
"But I don't think it will point us to Larur."
The chalk mark on the crate containing the portable bridge is faint and a bit smudged, but it seems to depict some sort of winged insect flying against a cloud. It means nothing to Snake, Gristav, or Tendal, but anyone down at the wharf ought to be able to identify it. Perhaps the bartender Covey Smith as well: he recognized Zincher's symbol on the box of spiders.