"Who does?" she asks in a conspiratorial undertone.
Pondering that a moment, "You know, that's a good question. Outside of Saul, I've got no idea. And sometimes I wonder if he even does with that Zincher fella around."
Saul listens with equanimity. "Proof? What, and where was it found?"
"En la provizejo de sia logxado areo, inter iuj kestoj, kvazaŭ eble haste Malplenigi, kiel ni blovegis. Plejparto de la kestoj enhavantaj nenion de intereso, la escepto estis alportita tie, packable ponto de ŝnuro kaj ligno. la ekspedisto la marko estas iom fadis, sed, nu ... "
Gristav obscures with one hand a part of the door, lifting his hand away with a burst of chalkish dust, most falling away, and out of the world, immediately, but the rest remaining in reflection of his recollection of the bundle's trademark. "Tio estas tre proksima. La pakaĵo estis de grandeco eble neverŝajne ŝtelita de poŝoŝtelisto trovaĵo de l, sed eble via propra trovaĵo de l venigos vin pli detale."
"Kiel al la pruvo, lia persona objekto. Mi ŝargita kun ricevado al nia nana familio, se li perdis al ni. Tio estas kiel mi rekonos ĝin kiel sian. Tiel, ĝi estas fonto por espero. kaj maltrankviligi. Sed espero. "
"Mi alvenis, por alporti al vi ke espero."
Waiting a moment, then giving a nod to each of the men present, Gristav leaves.
"That's very close. The bundle was of a size perhaps unlikely stolen by a halfling pickpocket, but perhaps your own halfling will bring you more detail."
"As to the proof, its a personal object. I'm charged with getting it to our dwarf's family, if he's lost to us. That's how I come to recognize it as his. Thus, it's a source for hope. And worry. But hope."
"I came to bring you that hope."
Pondering that a moment, "You know, that's a good question. Outside of Saul, I've got no idea. And sometimes I wonder if he even does with that Zincher fella around."
"The man who runs the fighting arena?" she asks. "What does he have to do with the casino?"
"En la provizejo de sia logxado areo, inter iuj kestoj, kvazaŭ eble haste Malplenigi, kiel ni blovegis. Plejparto de la kestoj enhavantaj nenion de intereso, la escepto estis alportita tie, packable ponto de ŝnuro kaj ligno. la ekspedisto la marko estas iom fadis, sed, nu ... "
Gristav obscures with one hand a part of the door, lifting his hand away with a burst of chalkish dust, most falling away, and out of the world, immediately, but the rest remaining in reflection of his recollection of the bundle's trademark. "Tio estas tre proksima. La pakaĵo estis de grandeco eble neverŝajne ŝtelita de poŝoŝtelisto trovaĵo de l, sed eble via propra trovaĵo de l venigos vin pli detale."
"Kiel al la pruvo, lia persona objekto. Mi ŝargita kun ricevado al nia nana familio, se li perdis al ni. Tio estas kiel mi rekonos ĝin kiel sian. Tiel, ĝi estas fonto por espero. kaj maltrankviligi. Sed espero. "
"Mi alvenis, por alporti al vi ke espero."
Saul frowns a moment at the mark on the door. "Halflings? What halflings? We're giving out free drinks or something to halflings tonight. You think Larur was handing out tokens?"
"The man who runs the fighting arena?" she asks. "What does he have to do with the casino?"
"Nothing that I know of. I just know if I had to bet on either one in a fight, the easy money's on Zincher."
Thuvalia shrugs an acceptance. "He is a younger man," she admits. "A larger man. And has both hands, no?" She raises her own hands and flutters them demonstratively. "Still, Vankaskerkin has his muscle, younger and stronger than Cleg Zincher, Bojasc the bodyguard. I suppose that is why one never sees the one without the other. Burmuinean erritmoak muskuluak, baina dirua erritmoak bai."
Snake somehow recognizes her last statement as a common Varisian proverb ... and one that seems very familiar to him. A cold chill runs through him, though he doesn't know why.
Easily distracted, Braddon heads for Tendal and Covey and orders a drink.
"Gimme a shot of your best."
Covey shoots a questioning glance at Tendal, seemingly asking if Braddon rates the expensive liquor. "You look like you need a stiff one, mate," he replies in a friendly manner. "What'd you do, get in a tavern brawl? Looking for a hair of the dog?"
Saul frowns a moment at the mark on the door. "Halflings? What halflings? We're giving out free drinks or something to halflings tonight. You think Larur was handing out tokens?"
Gristav looks confusedly at Saul a moment, before excusing himself, saying, "I'll... go ask Phillip."
"Ou ... comezar a pensar en como vai soster unha culler e moito menos un coitelo con só os dedos e non hai polgares." waggling his own in the air by way of emphasis.
I give him reason not to. The focus and drive is at the papers secured with what you and your partner had stolen. Give me the information so that I can find your brother and get this smoothed over... then we can see about passage to the City of Monuments.
Or... start thinking about how you'll hold a spoon let alone a knife with only fingers and no thumbs."
"You look like you need a stiff one, mate," he replies in a friendly manner. "What'd you do, get in a tavern brawl? Looking for a hair of the dog?"
"Yeah," Braddon nods slowly. "We were at Rag End and this guy with knives got the jump on me and cut me up something fierce. I got him in the end, but it was a near thing."
"'Rag End?'" Covey asks. "That's a new one to me. Where is it?"
Gristav leaves Saul's office and heads back down the stairs to the kitchen, where he spends a certain amount of time trying to get the attention of the cooks, figuring out which is the chief of them, and then explaining what he has in mind.
"Ice? What place has ice in Varisian cuisine?" the woman asks suspiciously, fixing Gristav with a disdainful eye.
"'Rag End?'" Covey asks. "That's a new one to me. Where is it?"
"Rag End, Rotgut, Rat Street. Someplace out past the wharves that begins with R. Apparently it's really dangerous and crawling with thugs and murderers, but apart from the evil cultists this is the only time I've been attacked since I got here...last week. I think I've been there twice. I lost count. Can I have that drink?"
"Yeah, I gue...," he stops in mid-sentence and pauses as it just hits him. "What?!" he ask himself under his breath. Brains beat brawn, but money beats both. Brains beat brawn, but money beats both. Where in the Nine Hells have I heard that?! Shaking his head in frustration as he's perplexed by it, he turns and stares directly at Thuvalia through narrowed eyes. Moving over near her, "I'm curious, where have you heard that Varisian phrase?"
Gristav leaves Saul's office and heads back down the stairs to the kitchen, where he spends a certain amount of time trying to get the attention of the cooks, figuring out which is the chief of them, and then explaining what he has in mind.
"Ice? What place has ice in Varisian cuisine?" the woman asks suspiciously, fixing Gristav with a disdainful eye.
Such eye brought echoes from his past, and he had to fight back the fey riposte, First, third and last. "Just so.", he nodded, instead, nearly bowing, "It's not mine to say, Sukaldeama. Only to offer. The woodcutter, offers wood, the magician, ice. Or absence. I am Gristav. If I can be of use, I welcome the opportunity. I will be nearby."
Pausing a polite moment for any response, Gristav leaves the kitchen, expecting he might find Phillip below.
Brains beat brawn, but money beats both. Brains beat brawn, but money beats both. Where in the Nine Hells have I heard that?! Shaking his head in frustration as he's perplexed by it, he turns and stares directly at Thuvalia through narrowed eyes. Moving over near her, "I'm curious, where have you heard that Varisian phrase?"
"In Varisia?" she duhs. "Where we presently reside?" She spreads her hands to encompass the city and surrounding countryside, from the Varisian Gulf to the Storval Plateau and the Mushfens to the Kodar Mountains. She shrugs. "It's a common saying among my people ... well, among certain of them." She gives the warlock a significant glance.
He chooses his steps to take the path with least likelihood of encounters with other staff...
Gristav heads down the stairs to the basement. As he negotiates the sharp corner where they fold back on themselves in their descent, he sees a light heading toward him, illuminating Phillip heading toward the surface.
-----------------------
"Rag End, Rotgut, Rat Street. Someplace out past the wharves that begins with R. Apparently it's really dangerous and crawling with thugs and murderers, but apart from the evil cultists this is the only time I've been attacked since I got here...last week. I think I've been there twice. I lost count. Can I have that drink?"
Up at the bar, Covey pours the requested libation. "Rotgut District?! That's a dangerous place to drink. Hope you took some mates with you to watch your back ... and your purse."
Gristav heads down the stairs to the basement. As he negotiates the sharp corner where they fold back on themselves in their descent, he sees a light heading toward him, illuminating Phillip heading toward the surface.
"Hail", Gristav says softly from the darkness. Closing the distance, he speaks even more softly, "I was just on my way to speak with you, about Saul, halflings, free drink tokens, or some such? You see, that's what he replied in Taldane when I gave our news in Elvish. A curious disconnectedness."
"How goes, below? Anything more connected? Anything less?"
Up at the bar, Covey pours the requested libation. "Rotgut District?! That's a dangerous place to drink. Hope you took some mates with you to watch your back ... and your purse."
Tendal swirls the wine around in his glass, admiring the way that it slightly adheres to the sides before running back into the bottom and collecting in a ruby pool.
I cannot think of anything nice to say to either of them... I wish the damnable barkeep would keep his mouth shut and not ask so many questions...why does he care what establishments Mr. Hurst has gotten himself up to? Not that he was drinking this time. he thinks, his mind racing along as he listens to the banter.
I feel like I am getting paranoid, wondering at everyone's motives, jumping at shadows... I want tonight to go smoothly. Then I can go off on this excursion with a clear conscious. And perhaps see Liry when I return.
Up at the bar, Covey pours the requested libation. "Rotgut District?! That's a dangerous place to drink. Hope you took some mates with you to watch your back ... and your purse."
"I did. We took his purse and stabbed him back. Well, exploded him a little. He won't be stealing purses and papers anymore."
Braddon drains his drink and sets it down."Do you know where Snake got to? I should have asked him earlier."
Somewhat surprised to see Gristav come towards him, Phillip gives an noncommittal shrug to the latter before answering the former... or at least commenting on the part he could understand and follow "I arranged for tokens to promote the side room with half-furniture... the dwarf wasn't involved in the affair. As to downstairs... give me an hour or more." holding station for a few moments more while giving an impression that he had a destination in mind for himself.
"Is there anything I can do to help? This is burr under my saddle. I've seen the other one; but he's seen me...?"
Braddon drains his drink and sets it down.
"Do you know where Snake got to? I should have asked him earlier."
After a bit of clarification as to which one "Snake" is (Covey not having been formally introduced), the barkeep directs Braddon out the front doors.
Raking his tongue over the roof of his mouth Phillip chooses words before answering "No. Simplest and easiest is to leave it to me... things go well then I'll have your answers in an hour or so and both slips will be departing thumbs intact... things go poorly... and I'll save you from being present for the blood." said plainly and without affect... but with intent and steel.
Braddon makes his way outside, stretches under the open sky, then looks about for Snake. When he sees Snake deep in thought, he makes his way over. He's about to tap Snake on the shoulder but thinks better of it and instead stands patiently nearby until the man is ready.
"In Varisia?" she duhs. "Where we presently reside?" She spreads her hands to encompass the city and surrounding countryside, from the Varisian Gulf to the Storval Plateau and the Mushfens to the Kodar Mountains. She shrugs. "It's a common saying among my people ... well, among certain of them." She gives the warlock a significant glance.
Rubbing the bottom of his chin in thought, "Hm. Okay. It's just... I don't know, never mind." Hearing minor noises behind him, he instinctively glances behind him, doing a double take as he realizes it's Braddon. "Need something, bub?"
Raking his tongue over the roof of his mouth Phillip chooses words before answering "No. Simplest and easiest is to leave it to me... things go well then I'll have your answers in an hour or so and both slips will be departing thumbs intact... things go poorly... and I'll save you from being present for the blood." said plainly and without affect... but with intent and steel.
"I was already present for blood; if there's to be more, I needn't be spared. Unless it would spare the blood. I would rather not recount a cost of limbs and lives to Larur, upon his rescue. And if there's to be no rescue, well... I trust your guidance, toward just vengeance. Can I similarly trust it, to pace just vengeance's limits? I believe I can."
Raising an eyebrow Phillip is a little confused as Gristav dances, so he lays it plain "He's given an account... if it's true, then he keeps his life and I'll see him free of Braddon's ire; if not, then he becomes less and less of a man until I'm satisfied with what comes out of his mouth."
Deadpan and honest with his timbre and tone showing no passion and just plain professionalism "Better if you're not part of the first outcome... though if you want to be there for the second if he proves a liar, then I can make it so?"
Hearing minor noises behind him, he instinctively glances behind him, doing a double take as he realizes it's Braddon. "Need something, bub?"
"Yeah." Braddon looks around conspiratorially and lowers his voice.
"I got messed up pretty bad and I'm still hurting. Can you do that thing?"Braddon waggles his fingers.
"Whenever you want. No rush."
With a confused look about him, "That... thing? What are you talkin' about, bu...," he stops in mid-sentence as it becomes clear what the ranger's pantomime is all about. "Yeah, sure." Laying a hand upon the ranger's shoulder, the tall man's eyes glow the all to familiar bluish-white as the healing power flows through him.
"You good now?"
Raising an eyebrow Phillip is a little confused as Gristav dances, so he lays it plain "He's given an account... if it's true, then he keeps his life and I'll see him free of Braddon's ire; if not, then he becomes less and less of a man until I'm satisfied with what comes out of his mouth."
Deadpan and honest with his timbre and tone showing no passion and just plain professionalism "Better if you're not part of the first outcome... though if you want to be there for the second if he proves a liar, then I can make it so?"
"If he proves a liar.", Gristav says grimly, "Make it so. I'll make it so. Does that suit your canon better? My friend, my capture, my vengeance? Does this matter fall under such laws? The question is an honest one. But I involved you, brought your face into it...?"
For the first time in the conversation Gristav's words bring a derisive scoff from the halfling before him. He sneers slightly and makes to move past the taller half-elf with a discarded aside "Ask not the sparrow... I have your confidence, let me dispose of it."
For the first time in the conversation Gristav's words bring a derisive scoff from the halfling before him. He sneers slightly and makes to move past the taller half-elf with a discarded aside "Ask not the sparrow... I have your confidence, let me dispose of it."
Gristav does not impede Philip's passage, turning sideways in the narrow stairway. "Fairly said.", is his short reply, and he sits, letting himself be surrounded by the darkness as the lantern light leaves.
Laying a hand upon the ranger's shoulder, the tall man's eyes glow the all to familiar bluish-white as the healing power flows through him.
"You good now?"
"Nothing a few nights sleep won't fix. Thanks. I feel worlds better. Do you want that cash I owe you? Most of it's in my room... somewhere."
Snake looks to Braddon curiously, "What cash?"
"For the exploding stuff. That was worth it. Saved my life. How much was it again?"
Tendal's wish to be left alone is half-granted when Braddon departs the bar in search of Snake. In the half-elf's absence, the peg-legged barkeep accurately reads Tendal's mood and busies himself with organizing the potables behind the counter, humming a sea chanty cheerfully if tunelessly under his breath.
After finishing his wine and reconciling himself to the probability that it will be his last moment of peace until the doors close in the wee hours, Tendal steels himself to rise and take a turn on the floor. Most of the decoration has been finished. Caravan lanterns dangle from the intersections of the wooden laths of the drop ceiling, and colorful scarves with Varisian prints are garlanded like banners across the room. The new carpeting is soft and thick underfoot, but Tendal makes a mental note to check it again after closing for wear, spills, or stains. With Samaritha gone, he supposes all the repair work will fall to him and his cantrips.
As he is still taking a turn about the area, he sees the pair of halfling skiffs operators entering by the front doors, carrying their equipment with them. It occurs to him that Liry may well be arriving soon as well, with her ghoulette set-up.
"For the exploding stuff. That was worth it. Saved my life. How much was it again?"
"Oh right, that. Just keep it. I don't really care," he says plainly, shrugging. As he turns back to what he was doing, a thought occurs to him. "You know, though," he starts as he returns his attention back to the ranger, "you could tell me where I could get proper tools to open a lock. That way, next time we walk into a building and have to fight for our lives, we don't have to spend time looking for a piece of wire that might or might not be good enough to work."
"Dayn had some before he... umm... nothing. I dunno where he got them though. That sounds like the sort of thing Phil would know. He knows everything. And everyone. I left him downstairs. That was a drink ago though. He may have left. Thanks again. You need me for anything, just ask. I owe you heaps."
Out on the verandah, Snake and Braddon notice a pair of halflings entering by the double doors, carrying some cumbersome equipment. Braddon recognizes them as the pair of operators who ran some sort of complicated-looking game popular with the halfling crowd last Sunday. Apparently, some of the dealers are beginning to arrive to set up their games for the evening.
"Sure," he answers plainly, his eyes cutting to the halflings making their way inside. "Friends of yours?" he asks the ranger, nodding toward the newcomers.
"Friends of yours?" he asks the ranger, nodding toward the newcomers.
Braddon shrugs. "They haven't tried to kill me yet."
Solitude. Silence. Solace. He tried to cheerlead himself, comfort himself. Except it wasn't either of the first two, except by a degree limited by the nearness of the kitchens, and very little of the last, drawn thin by the unknown distance to Larur. But Gristav was long used to lonely camps, and the peace of only-ness. And it worked for him, enough that, after gestures invisibled by the dark, he emerged into the kitchens cleaner, if still bloodied, and stronger, if still weak.
He also had an inkling of what to do with himself, some part, certainly, and some, if time permitted.
On the way to his room, he paused at Desna. Thank You, he thought, I hope that was luck for us all. Well, I suppose not the simian. Do You care for such? Who might I ask; some hierophant who's never given it thought, and doesn't really care? You? Have I that right? Myself? Have I that right? He grimaced, ungrounded, no sums to cipher, no stave to spin... Well, Thank You., he thought at the stone, and went to his room.
Where was that..., he puttered among the captured bits, careful of the unknowns, dangerous, and the dangers, known, until he came on one of the remaining healing potions. There you are. Pocketing it against incipient need, he thought himself wise-ish; it might be needed tonight. Or not, and needed another day, and so, carrying it seemed smarter than using it.
The map-case caught his eye, and as was his peculiar curse, immediately two courses campaigned in his head. The case to the Cloud... It will be there, if luck held. Or a rush to the Duck, and gather Greatreave... To the party, if not the cause.
Still undecided, he headed back out to the busier floors, the map case slung underarm, not too much in the way.
Braddon shrugs. "They haven't tried to kill me yet."
"That is a plus," he deadpans.
Tendel watches the skiff operators come into the casino and his thoughts turn back to Liry. It had been a few days, and he was certain that they had both been busy enough to fill that time. It was undeniable that Tendal liked the spritely woman. He enjoyed her company immensely.
I just don't have the time or energy to get involved in anything further. A rue grin crossed his face like a scudding cloud, I would like to think that I have learned my lessons the first time around. I will not make the same mistakes again.
Of course I can be counted on to make entirely new mistakes this time around. he thought.
Still, it is wiser for me to treat her as an equal...well perhaps not an equal...there aren't that many people around who are my equal. More like a companion, a pleasant person of reasonable intellect and cunning with a pleasant demeanor as an image of Liry's cheerful smile and pretty features flashed through his mind, whom with I can while away my time here.
I certainly cannot spend any time with her if we are leaving town on the morrow. And as if someone had teleported a crab apple onto Tendal's tongue, his face dropped back into its usual frown.
At the third ship, you strike paydirt. No one will admit to having a halfling aboard, but you pitch your voice to carry over the cries of the gulls and creak of the ropes as you lament over Aunt Abrogail's mislaid invitation. You haven't traveled too many steps down the wharf before a cautious voice calls you back. Turning, you see a nervous-looking halfling, half-hiding behind a barrel at the end of the gangplank. He seems disinclined to get any further from the ship.
The halfling skiffs operators enter the Gold Goblin. They comment appreciatively on the new carpet; then one begins to set up the gridded "lake" beneath the tumbling "storm" while the other begins to count out and arrange the differently-colored sets of tokens known as "fleets."