Phil glances around, but realises that Saul likely trusts those present enough to talk freely "Aye, rather than tempt fate Larur's tucked away the jewelry safe and secure. He's setting up your supper now... you willing to talk and eat or would you like me to come up in a short while?"
"We'll all have a bite here in a moment, lad," Saul responds, "and discuss our future plans. I'm missing a couple of elves though. Would like to have everyone together for this, lay all our cards on the table at once and see what they add up to. See if you can find out where they've gone, will you? Full-blooded elf with a bow and arrow and a half-elf dressed as a barefooted Hellknight. You can't miss them."
Meanwhile, over at the bar, Malkith lays out the spread of cards and begins to flip them over, one by one. In the column related to Samaritha's past, he finds the Eclipse, signaling unheralded abilities: no doubt her acumen for the arcane. Wizards are rare among their people; sorcerers are more prized for their natural talent which doesn't require heavy books and tutors, unsuited to the traveling lifestyle. The Courtesan reveals some plotting and intrigue, perhaps her family's plans for her to remain with them and put her talents to use for the good of the caravan rather than allowing her to leave and seek to advance her studies. The Keep speaks of temptation proving stronger than resolve: could be the lure of the city with its mage's guild.
Turning to her present, Malkith first turns over the Unicorn, a bit of a surprise after Samaritha's choosing: It indicates that she will achieve the goal she is seeking. The Wanderer suggests that value can be found in cast-off things, although whether Samaritha is the lucky finder or the one who will regret what she has let go is unclear. The final card leaves Malkith shaken: The Midwife in a misaligned position, meaning that new arrivals are a danger. Who could the new arrivals be but he and his fellows, newly arrived in Riddleport and in Samaritha's life? Could her association with them prove dangerous to her? He recalls uneasily that they were the ones who encouraged her to apply for work at the Gold Goblin; in seeking to help her, had they introduced her to someone who would harm her?
In the final column which seeks to foretell her future, Malkith turns up the Juggler, a true match and thus of utmost importance in the Harrowing. It promises that fate will be on the half-elf's side, a comforting word given the other two cards in her future, the Rakshasa and the Peacock. They speak of falling under a malign influence and a sudden reversal in fortunes.
The Carnival is coy, refusing to make a repeat appearance, so the question of which of her dreams may prove false or untrustworthy and when is left unanswered in this reading.
Phillip takes a quick look around the broken and fractured gaming room, and spying no-one fitting the description he shrugs "Doesn't look like they're here... I'll take a better look, but I'm not walking the streets to chase them down."
"Fair enough," Saul answers in a distracted manner. "I think the elf went into the kitchen. Give me a moment while I settle up with the cashiers and the guards and put away the night's take, and then we'll head upstairs." He strolls across the floor toward the cashier's cage, ever-present bodyguard in tow.
A wry and sour grin spreads across Dayn's face, his arrow tip not wavering a dot from it's bead on his target "A lady are we? And walking? Perhaps you'd like to try again. Let's not waste each other's time. While I do not know all the details as yet, we know you were somehow involved with the Scarzani. And clearly you know we know, which is why you ran. Or do you mean to try and convince me that you suddenly had a pressing need to leave the Goblin with all haste, leaving all of your belongings behind, including your coat, it would seem. No, no, my lady, if you wish to live to see tomorrow you will come quietly, and quickly, with me now, back to the Goblin, where your fate shall be decide it. Choose any other option and you shall have chosen your fate, your final fate, right here and now."
And grim of gaze and stance, the Elf waits for his prisoner's reply.
Phillip makes a half-hearted circuit of the ground floor with eyes open for the rogue operatives of sylvan extraction. If he can't see them in person, then he makes an inquiry of Bojasc as to whether he knows where the elves disappeared to.
Phillip checks the bar but sees only the Harrower and the red-headed half-elf, bent in concentration over a spread of cards. Ducking into the kitchen, it seems similarly devoid of the elves Saul is looking for. Just as he is about to return to the main floor, footsteps and a tentative knocking can be heard at the back door. "Ho, the Gold Goblin," a voice calls out politely.
"As I said, I don't know the details. If it proves that you were innocent or simply caught up in something beyond yourself, I'm sure they'll go easy on you. Perhaps. Ok, that's right, keep moving, back the way you came to the Goblin's kitchen door. And keep your hands where I can see them! For believe me, at this range, an arrow in the back will not be a pleasant experience. Might even ruin that fine singing voice of yours." he chuckles quietly to himself.
As she approaches him Dayn backs away and to the side, and then around her, keeping his arrow pointed directly at her until he is behind her, facing her back.
"Now keep moving, and keep your hands in the air"
Once behind her, he relaxes his gaze somewhat, enough that he can still be aware of all that's going on around them as well.
Thuvalia slinks past Daynadrian docilely enough, holding her hands open in the air at her shoulders. As the elf pivots around to cover her from behind, he sees Braddon running up to meet them from the south.
Dayn nods as he sees Braddon and as he half-elf gets close enough, speaks out "Excellent, I was hoping you'd find us. Help me bring her back? I'll keep an eye on this one if you can help make sure we're not bothered by anyone else along our way."
Braddon stows his dagger and draws his bastard sword.
He gives Thuvalia a little bow, not taking his eyes from her. "Good evening, my lady."
He marches back with them to the Gold Goblin, chatting with Daynadrian. "Of course I found you. I'm a bounty hunter. I've run down tougher prey than this one. I was going to let her go and track her to her hideout, but Old Stumpy wanted to chat with her now. Thanks for catching her. And nice shooting with that bow. Middle of the back, both times. That's good marksmanship. If the arrow doesn't get through to the heart, it's usually because it hits the spine which is almost as good. You certainly know your stuff. Where'd you learn to shoot? And what are you doing in this tiny corner of the world?"
Just as he is about to return to the main floor, footsteps and a tentative knocking can be heard at the back door. "Ho, the Gold Goblin," a voice calls out politely.
"Ho the voice beyond the door... what business do you bring at this hour" approaching the portal, but not yet opening it.
"Come to reclaim our equipment," the voice answers. As Phillip peers around the corner, he can see that the back door is slightly ajar; someone outside gives it a cautious tug, and it swings outward. Without are the two halfling skiffs operators; a bleary-eyed third to their company is Marce Washburn, looking as if he has just been dragged out of bed and was none too happy about it. When he recognizes Phillip inside, his eyes open wider, betraying his surprise.
Phil ignores Marce for the present, instead replying "Aye, fair enough... I'll show you in" and leading the skiffs operators inwards, with Marce in tow.
Phillip ushers the halflings through the kitchen and out onto the casino floor. Saul isn't immediately evident, but the skiff operators waste no time examining their lake and storm to make sure it wasn't dealt any damage during the mass evacuation. As they start to disassemble the equipment for moving, Marce edges up to Phil. "They rousted me out of bed to come here with them, in case there was trouble reclaiming their equipment," he explains. "Said there was some kind of disturbance while they were on their break and they couldn't get back in for everyone rushing out. Ethel and the girls weren't...?" His eyes travel to the fresh bloodstain on the carpet where the Varisian bandit nearly bled out.
"Bounty Hunter eh?" Dayn replies as he gives the briefest of glances to the half-elf "Seems we have more in common than our ancestry then. I too have been trained to hunt prey, although unlike most of my kin, I've always preferred the city environment to all those endless trees and plants, even if this is my first time inside a real city. And my shooting?" he laughs "I'm an Elf, most of us could shoot before we could walk. Or well, at least where I hail from. And believe me, if you think this is a tiny corner of the world, you wouldn't even be able to fit your toe into the place I'm from. No, for me, Riddleport is a chance to finally see and experience the real world. I've been wanting to come here my whole life. And how 'bout you. From where do you hail?"
Despite his casual conversation, the Elven Ranger does not take his eyes or attention of Thulavia for a second, his bow still drawn taught and his arrowhead still aimed dead center at her back.
Phillip keeps his eyes neutral and on the halflings packing up their equipment as he talks with Marce "The girls are fine, I saw them off with Olin and Ewart myself before the fracas..." pausing a moment to choose his words "and if they've roused yourself to ware off trouble... can I assume your talents extend beyond the storm?"
Malkith takes in the cards, doing his best to suppress any emotional response to what he sees. Satisfied that he understands what has been dealt, he lends his voice to the cards. He divines Samaritha's past with practices ease and casts her a glance before moving to the present. He allows his expression to fall slightly, betraying a sense of disappointment in himself, as he explains the midwife, "Riddleport can be an unfriendly place, but I fear that our paths crossing like this is bestowing unnecessary danger upon you. I don't know if it is too late to avoid this; already the Scrazni have threaten you. Indeed," he continues, pointing to the last column, "The raksasha and peacock speak of reversing fortunes and succumbing to maligned influences. There is a promise of hope though, as I see that the Fates will be on your side though these difficult times."
Malkith is silent for a moment as he re-evaluates the cards, then looks to Samaritha, "I'm afraid there is nothing about the potential of which I spoke of. The Fates are holding back, it seems." He takes a drink of wine and watches for her reaction.
The hopeful excitement is gone from Samaritha's face, but she manages a grateful smile. "Mother Zia's reading before I left the caravan was full of warnings as well," she admits quietly. "Although I suspected someone might have ... persuaded her to read the cards in such a way as to make staying seem the better choice. I hoped a harrowing from a stranger might..." She shakes her head. "If the cards foretell danger, then it's a risk I chose to take. You just get to a point where you'd rather follow your dreams and take a chance than keep doing what everyone expects of you and be safe and secure, you know? I mean, you chose to leave."
Phillip keeps his eyes neutral and on the halflings packing up their equipment as he talks with Marce "The girls are fine, I saw them off with Olin and Ewart myself before the fracas..." pausing a moment to choose his words "and if they've roused yourself to ware off trouble... can I assume your talents extend beyond the storm?"
Marce's concern seems placated by Phillip's assurance that the other halflings left before the disturbance, and he turns his attention from the bloodstain to the skiffs operators and his interlocutor. He shrugs and gives a wry smile. "In Riddleport, a man's known by who knows him: who he's working for, and who'll miss him if he disappears. It's how the bosses get to the top and stay there; the better they can protect their people, the more who want to work for them, and the more who work for them, the bigger their sphere of influence. It's why the half-orcs who wander into town wind up as Croat's boys before the sun's set on them twice. It's the difference between predator and prey. Now our folk don't have a natural home with any of the bosses; no one's looking to put together a gang of halflings and look after them. That's where I step in. I make sure I meet every halfling in town and then I make sure everyone else knows there's an eye on them and their concerns." He grins. "Ethel calls me the Lord Mayor, but I'm really just a witness. One of our kind runs into trouble or goes missing, at least everyone knows there's going to be someone asking questions about it."
Following Saul's instructions, Tendal finds the cold meat and loaves of bread in the larder, along with some jars of pickled vegetables. In addition, there seems to be enough of the finger food served to the customers at the gala left over to complement the meal: ham spread on toast, boiled eggs, and several partially-sliced reddish-brown cakes.
As he is gathering the components of their prospective repast, Tendal hears the voices of Braddon and Daynadrian pitched in casual conversation as they approach the back door of the casino.
Phillip runs a hand through his hair and smooths his mustache as he thinks. Mindful of how he read Marce earlier in the evening, the Calistrian adjusts the pieces he has in play. Perhaps he is prideful of his self-cast role of lord protector, and less of his ability at skiffs. An easy mistake to make... though this may yet play in my favour with what mind I have to the long play...
Nodding at Marce's speech Phil replies "Very noble of you Marce, and I've no doubt much needed in these parts... and I hope you don't look down upon my asking... but I would hope the Lord Mayor's governance tends towards the laissez faire when it comes to operators of a more individual nature?" said without any degree of sarcasm or mockery, Phil glances sideways at Marce to read his face and how he took the query...
Sense Motive:
...before continuing "If thats the case then I've recently come into an opporunity that might allow for mutual beneficence... though words to that might be better spent on the morrow and with a clearer head."
The halfling gives a snort of derision. "I'm no boss. These men," he nods to the skiffs operators who have their equipment just about packed up and ready to travel, "work in the Free-Coin District so they're part of Cromarcky's flock officially. But you think the Overlord is going to get out of bed in the wee hours on a Moonday morning to make sure their livelihood's protected?" He shakes his head. "Do what you like, Phil. If you should find yourself in a position to help out some of the community, I'd surely think well of you for it." He pauses and then goes on, "With you here after all the customers have gone home ... you thinking of signing on with Old Stumpy?"
Tendal moves through the kitchen like a windstorm, picking through jars, upending baskets, riffling through the pantry in a quest for anything edible. After a few minutes, he has a decent repast heaped haphazardly on a large tray which he eyes uncertainly.
Hearing voices approaching the kitchen, he pauses. Well it wouldn't do to go dumping food all over the place...
"Gentlemen," he says loudly as the two halflings enter, interrupting their conversation. Of course...two halflings...why couldn't it have been a half-orc? "As you can see I have a bit of a problem. I have a fair amount of food for our evening repast, but it is a bit much for me to carry without risking it becoming floor-food."
"I spotted two trays in the pantry," he says indicating the door, "Could you please grab them and assist me in delivering our dinner to the dining room?"
Phil smiles widely and with a slight predatory bent at Marce's words "The pen has not met paper... yet... but I'd imagine that steps will be taken before my head meets a pillow for slumber." mustache smoothed out again with one hand before he continues "As to the other I'll be in touch." offering a hand for a handshake, before leaving the halflings to their work.
"This little backwater isn't the real world. You should see Absalom. I grew up there. My father a marine and my mother a socialite. I doubt we have any common ancestry."
As Braddon enters the back door of the casino, he hears Tendal's request and addresses Thuvalia. "My lady. Would you be so kind as to grab a tray and help this nice man." He prods her with his sword and a smile.
Phil smiles widely and with a slight predatory bent at Marce's words "The pen has not met paper... yet... but I'd imagine that steps will be taken before my head meets a pillow for slumber." mustache smoothed out again with one hand before he continues "As to the other I'll be in touch." offering a hand for a handshake, before leaving the halflings to their work.
Marce returns the handshake. "I've heard a lot of things about Saul Vankaskerkin," he muses, "but never that he let a man's height make a difference to the way he treated him. Good luck to you, Phillip."
The skiffs operators, each carrying a piece of their apparatus, don't have hands free for shaking but offer Phillip a friendly nod as they head back through the swinging doors to the kitchen, followed by Marce.
Tendal moves through the kitchen like a windstorm, picking through jars, upending baskets, riffling through the pantry in a quest for anything edible. After a few minutes, he has a decent repast heaped haphazardly on a large tray which he eyes uncertainly.
Hearing voices approaching the kitchen, he pauses. Well it wouldn't do to go dumping food all over the place...
"Gentlemen," he says loudly as the two halflings enter, interrupting their conversation. Of course...two halflings...why couldn't it have been a half-orc? "As you can see I have a bit of a problem. I have a fair amount of food for our evening repast, but it is a bit much for me to carry without risking it becoming floor-food."
"I spotted two trays in the pantry," he says indicating the door, "Could you please grab them and assist me in delivering our dinner to the dining room?"
The two halflings coming through the kitchen door give Tendal a quizzical glare. "We look like your staff, mate?" one of them asks.
Fortunately, Braddon and Daynadrian enter from the corridor at about the same moment, prodding Thuvalia in front of them, and Braddon volunteers their reluctant guest for the job. The actress looks for a moment like she is going to protest at being pressed into menial service, but Braddon's sword and Daynadrian's bow still in evidence override her sense of dignity. Rolling her eyes, she shoves past Tendal and flounces toward the pantry as the three halflings exit out the back door.
Although his gaze remains focused on Thulavia, Dayn's get a slightly faraway look as the Half-Elf mentions Absalom. With a slight wistfullness he replies "I...I have heard of that place. I must admit, it only seems halfway real to me. It would indeed be a great dream of mine to visit one day. Fortunately I have the time." realizing his slight gaff towards one of the short-lived he coughs and continues "But why ever would you leave such a place Braddon? Surely it is magnificent, yes? So much to see, so much to do!"
As their conversation takes them up to and inside the Goblin, Dayn's lowers his bow, but still keeps his arrow nocked for the moment. He frowns at Tendal's request, choosing to ignore it, but then smiles slightly at Braddon's clever solution.
Once all seems well in order he turns and locks the kitchen door behind him.
Halflings dealt with, Phillip looks to the upcoming meeting with Saul and prepares to move above.
Shortly after the halflings have carried away their equipment and Braddon and Daynadrian have returned to the casino, Saul emerges from the vault area with the Beyar brothers and the two grim matrons that served as cashiers, as well as the ever-present Bojasc. "Thank you kindly, ladies and gents," he smiles as he locks the door behind them. "You boys will see these charming women safely to their front doors before heading home, I trust? Excellent. A good night's work, everyone."
The twin warriors and stone-faced crones exit through the kitchen, heading for the back door, and Saul grins at Phil. "Well, lad, I'm famished. What say we head upstairs for that bite I promised you and then some business? Did you ever find those elves?" He catches sight of Malkith and Samaritha still seated at the bar and waves them over. "Upstairs for food and conversation! You're going to find yourselves all alone down here in a moment ... or is that what you were hoping for?" he winks at Malkith, a leer on his face. "Plenty of time for that after. Business before pleasure!"
He pushes through the kitchen doors. "Ah, there you are," he cries upon seeing Braddon and Daynadrian. "Wondered where you'd gotten yourselves off to. Good work, my boy," he addresses Tendal, eyeing the repast. "Bojasc, grab one of those trays and give the lad a hand. Madame Barabbio, how good of you to join us. Come along upstairs; I think there's chairs enough for all of us."
Saul leads the way up the stairway to the second floor. The door with the 'Owner' plaque is open, lamplight spilling from within. From the waiting area, a door on the left is standing ajar, revealing a comfortable dining room, its walls hung with tapestries. A long table with ten chairs runs down the center of the room, and Larur Felden has spread a linen cloth and laid out plates and utensils. He is standing by the chair at the foot of the table; Saul takes the nearest seat at the head, and Bojasc claims the place to his left, setting down the tray of food he carried up the stairs.
Phillip inclines his head and moves upstairs after Saul. He takes in the others that follow him upstairs, noting a certain familiarity to them, but doesn't aim to exchange words. Arriving at the table, Phil pauses for a moment... before settling in at the tables corner near the foot, to the right of where Larur stands.
Malkith does his best to repress a smile, impressed by Samaritha's resolve. "Yes, I chose to leave, although it was not to follow a dream. There is something here, in Riddleport, that I'm meant to do. I'm not quite sure what that is, but when it's done, I will return to my caravan."
The sound of Saul's voice draws his attention. "Upstairs for food and conversation! You're going to find yourselves all alone down here in a moment ... or is that what you were hoping for?" he winks at Malkith, a leer on his face. "Plenty of time for that after. Business before pleasure!" The Varisian does not give his employer the satisfaction of a reaction, but the corner of his mouth can't help but curl upward as he looks to Samaritha.
He nods in the direction of the other, "I suppose we could both stand some food by now. We can continue this conversation later." Malkith gestures for Samaritha to lead the way after Saul.
As they rejoin the others, his face sours at the sight of the Thulavia. "Well done," he says approvingly to Braddon, "I hope she didn't give you too much trouble."
Braddon continues to chat happily with Daynadrian. "Absalom's great. Epic spires. Beautiful houses. Millions of people. I'll show you round one year. I left because... um..."
Braddon turns at Malkith's timely interruption.
"No trouble at all," Braddon smiles, "though it was our friend here who actually did all the work." He points a thumb across at Daynadrian.
"All I did was make sure every other street was empty."
Braddon is delighted by the prospect of food and follows his captive upstairs. He gets her comfy in a seat, then tries to grab a seat next to the ever popular Samaritha. He grins broadly at her, then flops back in his seat with a sigh.
Arriving at the table, Phil pauses for a moment... before settling in at the tables corner near the foot, to the right of where Larur stands.
The dwarf offers him a friendly nod. "There's bolsters to fit the chairs," he offers in a barely-perceptible wheeze, nodding to some thick cushions against the wall. "Put you at eye-level when we're seated."
He nods in the direction of the other, "I suppose we could both stand some food by now. We can continue this conversation later." Malkith gestures for Samaritha to lead the way after Saul.
"Am I invited?" she wonders, as she climbs down off the bar stool. "I turned him down when he offered me a steady job." Still, not liking the alternative of walking home alone through the Riddleport night, she allows Malkith to usher her through the kitchen and upstairs to the dining room.
She returns Braddon's smile with a twinkle in her eye. "You growing fond of that costume?" she asks him, casting a glance down at the expanse of chest exposed by the black leather Hellknight armor.
Looking bored, Thuvalia sets her tray down on the table with a clatter, then slips into the chair at Saul's right hand with an ingratiating smile at the casino owner. "Signore Vankaskerkin, while I am most gratified by your charming invitation to dinner, all you had to do was to ask. There was no need to send your oafs to retrieve me." She gives Braddon and Daynadrian an unfriendly glare.
Giving Larur a smile and nod, Phil retrieves himself a bolster such that he will not be dwarfed by the others.
"Signore Vankaskerkin, while I am most gratified by your charming invitation to dinner, all you had to do was to ask. There was no need to send your oafs to retrieve me." She gives Braddon and Daynadrian an unfriendly glare.
"Well, I apologize if the lads were a little overzealous," Saul replies, wreathed in smiles, "but all's well that ends with a lovely lady by my side, I always say. Some wine, my dear?" He pours her a glass from one of the bottles on the table. "Dig in, everyone," he invites, and Bojasc silently begins to fill his plate.
Phillip does not take any food, instead seeing his glass filled with red wine and settling into his chair to nurse it as he observes the table.
She returns Braddon's smile with a twinkle in her eye. "You growing fond of that costume?" she asks him, casting a glance down at the expanse of chest exposed by the black leather Hellknight armor.
Braddon leans back and puts his arms behind his head, flexing powerful arms and displaying tight abs. "Actually, I can't stand it... but I haven't had a chance to take it off yet." He smiles mischievously at Samaritha. "It offers no protection. That glass window cut me to ribbons. See." Ignoring the worst lacerations, Braddon traces a minor cut that glides over his well toned shoulder and around his bulging pectoral muscle.
Suddenly he starts forward at Thuvalia's words.
"OAF?! That's no way to talk about this fine elf," he gestures to Daynadrian, "that put an arrow into each or your best thugs. You're just upset that Saul hired better help than you did. Saul makes a fortune and you... well, I hope you didn't pay them in advance."
Dayn eagerly takes in Braddon's words about Absalom, and his eyebrow quirks in curiosity an the half-elf's stumble over his reasons for leaving the magnificent sounding place. 'Millions of people?? Whatever might that look like?' the small town Elf can't help but wonder.
Nodding only slightly in acknowledgement at the compliment, Dayn makes sure Thulavia is headed up the stairs and his the last one in line and into the dining room. Taking the time to close and if possible lock the door behind him, he suffers an inward pang as he sees the places beside Samaritha are taken.
He stands in indecision for a moment whether to sit across from the object of his desire, or to sit close to his prisoner to make sure she doesn't try to escape again. Finally though, shrugging his shoulders and figuring there was little chance of his escape at this point, he sits across from the pretty half-elf. In turns amused, annoyed and envious by Braddon's blatant flirting and clear ease with women, Dayn does turn a very interested eye and attentive ear towards Thulavia when Braddon makes his accusation towards her.
"Am I invited?" Samaritha wonders.
"Forgive me if I seem over protective," Malkith tries not to blush as he responds, "But I doubt it's a good idea for someone as eder as you to be walking the streets alone at this hour. Besides, Saul's a businessman. Just because you refused him once doesn't mean he'd turn you out if he thought you might change your mind. At the very least, we should be able to use that to your advantage and get you a room here for the night."
Malkith nods at Daynadrian in appreciation as Braddon defers the praise for Thuvalia's capture to the elf.
As everyone picks out their place in Saul's office, the Varisian takes a position next to Samaritha opposite Braddon. As his employer invites everyone to feast, Malkith fills a plate and passes it to Samaritha before filling a second for himself. He picks at the food ashe glares at the Chelaxian woman playing the offended gentry.
"It's hard to offer an invitation when you've already bolted out the backdoor like a korrika lapurra," Malkith interjects, "but who can blame you? The heist failed and your boyfriend was slain - your fault by the way - what else is a berekoia sorgin like you going to do?"
Enjoying the mixture of overt flirting, aggrieved accusation and diffident dismissal flying thick and fast across the table Phillip sees no reason to add his own words. Idly swilling his glass of wine near his face he sips shallow but often to hide half smiles and chuckles.
Tendal sneers slightly at the interplay between Thuvalia and the hirelings. It was apparent, even to Tendal, that Thubalia was much less than what she presented herself as, and was attempting to settle in at the Gold Goblin as a way to escape from her past.
Now there is an interesting thought...I wonder if Thuvalia was attempting to wreck the evening for some reason...I am not aware that we have identified who is behind the attack.
"Mr. Vankaskerkin, I might have missed it when you were questioning the brigands, but was anyone able to determine who was behind the attack? Tendal asks, then pops a pickled olive into his mouth.
The dwarf piles his plate high with meat and some thick slices of bread, ignoring the vegetables and the fancy Chelish fare that was served at the gala. He seems more interested in his meal than in the table conversation but can't help but notice Phillip's empty plate. "What's the matter, lad?" he wheezes with a frown. "Nothing here to your liking?"
Braddon leans back and puts his arms behind his head, flexing powerful arms and displaying tight abs. "Actually, I can't stand it... but I haven't had a chance to take it off yet." He smiles mischievously at Samaritha. "It offers no protection. That glass window cut me to ribbons. See." Ignoring the worst lacerations, Braddon traces a minor cut that glides over his well toned shoulder and around his bulging pectoral muscle.
"Yes, well...," Samaritha flushes a little as her eyes follow his finger. "I suppose you should consider yourself lucky you encountered no greater danger than an angry window tonight," she recovers with a smile as she turns to thank Malkith for the plate of food.
"It's hard to offer an invitation when you've already bolted out the backdoor like a korrika lapurra," Malkith interjects, "but who can blame you? The heist failed and your boyfriend was slain - your fault by the way - what else is a berekoia sorgin like you going to do?"
"My fault?!" she snaps, rounding on Malkith furiously. "I am not the one who turned things violent. No one's life was in danger but mine until zure erbia hasi geziak!" She composes herself with an effort and goes on in a more refined voice. "It was a harmless job, just relieving some spoiled women of their jewelry, until all of you got involved. It was your men who drew first blood."