Samaritha almost chokes on a mouthful of bread when the actress breaks into fluent Varisian. "I'm sorry," she coughs. "Is she...?" She stares intently at Thuvalia's face. "Is that makeup?"
"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.
"Think that's what we're doing now, lad," Saul leans back in his chair and gives Tendal a wink before returning his attention to Thuvalia and her interlocutors.
"Herr Vankaskerkin langileen gaineko kontrola egin baino gehiago I Thugs Volo landatu heist, hemen ez daukat. Izan waylaid ez duzu me, izan liteke I zion subdue ahal izan zen zuen pincushion bat aurretik.
"But, you admit to your part in the plot," Malkith confirms. "So, who hired Volo to do the job?"
As Samaritha interjects, he turns to her and then back to Thuvalia. Likewise, he scrutinizes her appearance, attempting to see what Samaritha is seeing.
"You are!" Samaritha concludes, affronted. "And after the way you ordered me around! You're Varisian yourself!"
"Inoiz baino gehiago dituzu, apur untxi," Thuvalia mutters with an unfriendly smirk at the redhead. What those nearest her had taken for a smudge of dirt or faint bruise on her throat is, in fact, the natural tone of her skin color showing through, probably from her tangle in Malkith's scarves. He remembers the pot of heavy makeup he found in her dressing room.
"But, you admit to your part in the plot," Malkith confirms. "So, who hired Volo to do the job?"
"I don't know ... exactly," she replies, settling back in her chair and taking a sip of the wine Saul poured for her. "But I could be persuaded to tell you what I do know, provided none of it comes back to rest on my head. I hurt no one; I stole nothing," she reminds them. "I didn't threaten a single hair on your guests' heads. I tell you what I know about the job, and I walk out of here, free and clear." She waits for a response to her offer.
"What's the matter, lad?" he wheezes with a frown. "Nothing here to your liking?"
With a half smile Phil replies "I tend not to eat while I work" though his eyes remain upon the continuing verbal fracas underway.
"The way I see it, you can tell us what you do know before we can let the Gendarmes have you, or...bi lads horiek," he gestures to Braddon and Daynadrian, "beren overzealous metodoak erabili ahal izango hitz egiten dizuten. Either way, you're not just going to get to walk away from this."
"...these two lads can revert to the aforementioned 'overzealous' methods."
"Oh, I don't believe that," she pouts. Leaning forward over the table, she smiles into Daynadrian's eyes. "He says you're going to murder me, a defenseless woman, in cold blood, just on his say-so. Now you wouldn't do such a thing, would you?"
"You don't get how this works, Vili," she turns businesslike again, as her attention reverts to Malkith. "You're not offering me anything. If you're going to kill me or have me imprisoned whether I talk or not, what inducement do I have to cooperate?"
"I didn't threaten a single hair on your guests' heads. I tell you what I know about the job, and I walk out of here, free and clear." She waits for a response to her offer.
"I'm okay with her offer. If it turns out she's lying I can hunt her down and kill her in the next 2 days. 3 if she flees the city."
Braddon grabs a chunk of meat and chews it thoughtfully. "Actually, I'd hunt her down for just a few gold. Maybe even silver if I liked the customer. It's not like any of the bosses are protecting her, right?" Braddon licks some grease off his fingers.
With a half smile Phil replies "I tend not to eat while I work" though his eyes remain upon the continuing verbal fracas underway.
"'Work?'" Larur mumbles to himself with a puzzled frown at the halfling, who seems to be doing nothing more than relaxing and enjoying a glass of wine, then shakes his head in dismissal. "None of the bosses, no," the dwarf goes on uneasily, turning to Braddon, "but if she's Sczarni.... As a rule, they don't operate in Riddleport, don't want trouble with the Overlord, but there have been cases that they've taken that risk to avenge a slight." His eyes drift to Saul at the far end of the table.
Phillip keeps his eyes and ears towards the other end of the table as he replies to Larur "Aye... work."
Saul feels the dwarf's gaze alight on him and frowns slightly. "That was a lifetime ago, Larur," he waves his hand dismissively. "Orik's, in particular. May not seem like a long time to a dwarf, but the Sczarni wouldn't hold a grudge that long, not without doing something about it. It's not like I've been in hiding." He turns his attention to Tendal. "What do you say, lad? What are your instincts on the matter? Make a deal, or throw the book at her?"
"With her motivation in doubt, I don't think that she can be trusted. If it were for avarice or passion I don't believe that she would be here. Riddleport is too far away from the salons and theaters of Magnimar to stage a comeback."
"So I think someone must be holding her leash. Without knowing who, and what hold they have over her, it is impossible to say that she can be trusted."
"Throw her to the wolves. There are others who are hungry enough to take the casino's center stage in her absence. Perhaps we will launch a new career here rather than serving as the cemetery for hers."
Saul nods slowly, then offers Thuvalia a smile. "Sorry, my dear. Another time, another place perhaps. My colleagues don't seem to think any information you could give us is worth your freedom. Bojasc, take her downstairs for, er, safe-keeping until we can dispose of her."
Bojasc impassively gets out of his chair and moves around behind Saul to the woman on the opposite side of the table.
"What?!" Thuvalia seems startled that negotiations have closed. "You're all fools! Shoreleave will never hold me. What are you going to accuse me of? You have no proof that I even knew Volo!" Bojasc's large hand closes around her upper arm, and she angrily throws the contents of her wine glass across the table into Malkith's face. "Traidorearen bai eta ergela, Vili zaude. Izan dira nire heroia izan me erreskatatu Volo en enbrageetam. Nuke oso eskertzen da."
Braddon turns to the damp Malkith. "What I like most about her is her ability to make friends. See how it's paying off already."
He turns back to Thuvalia as Bojasc helps her up. "Hey, lady. The last anyone saw of you, those thugs had a blade to your neck. If we cut your throat, who will even bother to ask what happened?"
Braddon lifts a nearby pitcher and grins broadly. "More wine anyone?"
Knowledge (Local):
Phillip watches Thuvalia impassively as she is condemned, still nursing the same glass of wine that he started with.
"I'm not looking to be anybody's hero." Malkith replies, wiping the excess wine from his face.
As Bojasc leads Thuvalia towards the door, he adds, "He's right," tipping his head toward Braddon, "As far as anyone outside this room is concerned, you're still a hostage to Volo's thugs and from the sounds of it, no one here cares enough whether or not you even make it as far as Shoreleave...unless you wanted to give us a reason to make sure you do."
Samaritha gasps in shock as Malkith is doused, then speaks a word and makes a sharp gesture with her hand that dries the Harrower's clothing and removes any stain before it has time to set. "Bere irain baino hobeto bere 'eskerronez,'" she says in a low tone with an angry frown at Thuvalia.
"I will take my chances with the Gendarmes," Thuvalia replies with as much dignity as she can muster as she is being forcibly removed from the room. "That bunch of lecherous old pirates will not all be as 'disinterested' as you. There will be more than one willing to believe I am a vulnerable young woman who fell in with the wrong kind of man -- and am thus prone to do so again. You have not seen the last of Thuvalia Barabbio!"
As Thuvalia is ejected Braddon stares at Samaritha in amazement.
"That was awesome!" He extends the pitcher towards her. "If you can turn this into ale I'll do anything you want."
Braddon thinks for a moment and winces in pain.
"Actually, if you have any healing magic, I'd also be really grateful. I've had daggers do less damage than that cursed window."
She blushes. "It's nothing," she says self-deprecatingly. "Just a way to save a few coins on laundry, really. And heat tea. I suppose it could...." She frowns in concentration a moment, then flicks her finger toward the pitcher. Braddon gazes in expectantly, but the contents look unchanged. "Try it," she shrugs at him apologetically. "If you drink it fast enough, it ought to taste like Varisian ale. It isn't actually transmuted, though; the flavor will go away in about an hour. As for healing, I'm afraid my magic isn't that useful. You'd have to see a priest or a hedge witch."
As Thuvalia is led Phillip raises his glass companionably to her and addresses her departing form "Parol de vendre la peau davant qu'avec." pausing a moment before adding "eta zorte ona" swirling the goblet and draining the last of the wine from it afterwards.
"and Good Luck."
"Pity," Saul remarks as Bojasc exits with Thuvalia. "A redhead and a brunette would have been a terrific one-two punch for our Varisian caravan night. Well, lads, you've seen what we're up against," he goes on, turning his attention back to the table. "I need security, and I need ears on the street. I want to know who sent that gang of low-level Sczarni here, and I want to know if they or anyone else is going to try something again. Larur and I have a week to get this place in shape for our next event and to hire help that won't try to rob the guests. I can't trust anyone already beholden to a boss; that's why I need you. I'll pay you ten gold a week."
"Ten gold!?" Larur splutters, nearly choking on a mouthful of wine. "Each?"
"Ten gold," Saul repeats calmly, "and if we turn a profit, you'll share in it. Think, Larur," he turns his attention to his partner at the far end of the table. "You want these men focused on protecting and promoting our business or wondering how much they could make elsewhere? And don't think Cleg Zincher won't try to hire them away or pay them under the table to work as double agents when he gets wind of them joining up with us. I won't lie to you boys," he lets his gaze travel around the table. "You'll make yourselves a target for some if it becomes known you're working for me, but Saul Vankaskerkin rewards loyalty. A rising tide lifts all boats at the Gold Goblin. You lads do your jobs and keep trouble away from our doors, and I'll see you harvest your share of the haul. And, uh, as always, any pockets you empty in the course of dissuading our enemies, that's yours to keep, no questions asked."
Malkith unconsciously checks himself over, looking to see if Samaritha's cantrip missed any spots. Finding no traces of the wine on his person he smiles appreciatively, touching her hand for emphasis, "Thank you, maitea."
Seeing Braddon wince, Malkith studies his wounds. "Perhaps I can save you the quest for a healer?" He passes his gaze over the half-elf once again and places his hand over the worst of his injuries. In a revered tone he utters, "Bạn vẫn chưa đi hành trình cuối cùng của bạn." His hand radiates warmth that only he and Braddon can detect. The multitude of cuts and gashes rapidly vanish as the half-elf's flesh fuses itself whole once more.
"Ooh. Aawww." Braddon relaxes as his wounds vanish completely. "Thanks. I feel great."
Braddon takes a swig of his drink. He starts, then his eyes light up. "You guys are amazing. I'm gonna hafta marry both of you."
He takes another swig and turns to Saul. "And I've got a job too. I accept. That's in addition to tonight's work, right? When do I get paid for that?"
"You already know my answer Mr. Vankaskerkin." Tendal says, raising a glass of wine in a small salute to his patron. "I plan to do my best to make the Golden Goblin a profitable venture, as well as bringing other opportunities forward as they fulminate."
Leaning back in his chair, Tendal waits to see where the remainder of the chips fell out.
"Excellent, lad, excellent," Saul gives Tendal a broad smile before turning it to beam on Braddon. "You too, sir. Fine swordwork tonight. What about the rest of you? Can we agree to terms?"
"That's in addition to tonight's work, right? When do I get paid for that?"
"Pay you tonight for what you did tonight," Larur grumbles. "Pay you next week for your first week of work."
"Don't be ridiculous, Larur," Saul contradicts. "You get paid tonight for what you did tonight and for the work you're going to do over the course of the following week. Every week after close of business, you get paid for what needs to be done before our next opening. Look at it from their point of view, Larur," he speaks over the dwarf's stammer of protest. "Would you work all week on the promise of payment from an establishment that could be out of business come payday? We display our goodwill to our employees, and we hope they'll extend the same sort of loyalty to us. In the grand scheme of things, sixty gold over the course of a week's not going to break us; we both have a lot more at stake than that."
Mulling as some of the others sign on immediately, Phillip puts his now empty goblet back upon the table. Shuffling forward slightly in his o'erlarge chair he queries "And exactly what claim upon my time would need be surrendered for your purpose? I am not averse, I just prefer for clarity before the plunge."
"Also to achieve the intent that you have laid out before us, there might need be concessions made or agreements committed that reach beyond the confines of the table before us... Would solitude of execution be given freely? Or must discretion and trust be earned further through results?"
Oh. I like the halfling. Quick of tongue and shifty of thought. I think he is a lawyer. Tendal thinks, watching Phillip.
"I'd expect your presence during business hours," Saul answers, "barring some specific mission elsewhere, of course. The rest of the week, assuming everything that needs to be done is done, your time is your own to allocate. I care about results, not how many hours it might take to achieve them. As for your second question, I presume you're asking how much authority you have to make decisions and commit resources on behalf of the Gold Goblin or if you have to come running back here for approval?"
Smiling gamely as he smooths his mustache "Both and neither of course... but your answer suffices for the now. In time if the cogs mesh I would speak with you alone on it, but for the overarching premise you have my agreement."
"Excellent," Saul repeats with a grin at Phillip. "Anyone else? What about you, my dear?" he singles out Samaritha. "My offer still stands. The pay's better than washing dishes or serving cake. And you'd have a room of your own at your disposal downstairs rent-free; petty cash to cover meals and tolls for the ferry; as we've just established," he nods toward the halfling, "plenty of free time to pursue your own interests, whatever they might be."
Samaritha's eyes had indeed widened when the proposed wage was mentioned. Finding herself the focus of Saul's pitch, she blushes a little and hesitates, looking to the men sitting with her around the table for a cue.
Braddon rolls his eyes at Samaritha's hesitation.
"As if any of these guys are gonna tell you 'No'. The work's obviously gonna be dangerous and no doubt there'll be more fighting. But as a caster you'll be very useful and we'll all be looking out for you. Great risk, great reward, so no one's gonna hassle you if you do say 'no'. I'd rather see you happy than often, so make up your own mind."
Braddon finishes his speech with another swig from the pitcher. "Actually, I'd rather see you every hour," he grins hoisting the enchanted beverage.
Adopting a mock seriousness Phil addresses Samaritha with a severe voice "Azken gaizto egingo duk, txoria, gazterik egiten ez baduk habia" before smirking and winking as he reaches out to refill his cup with wine and settle back within his chair.
The half-elf is startled into a laugh. "Me gogorarazi nire izeba Zo," she tells the halfling with a twinkle in her eye. "Baina hobe da ez da txoria izango habia gabe bat zuhaitz okerreko habia eraikitzeko baino?"
Shrugging his shoulders Phillip replies "To, zure bihotza fidatu behar duzu ...eta kito, haize kausituko ama izatea kuku bat arrautza." sipping once more from his freshly restored glass.
Tendal can't help but roll his eyes at the maudlin interplay between Phillip and Samaritha.
"Bi erdi-zilarrezko antzerki aktore txarra bezalako soinua hasten dira. Samarantha, Vankaskerkin zure leialtasuna undying ez eskatuz, hau da lan bat da. Hartu nahi izanez gero, lan-beste nonbait eta dena ondo izango da aurretik ezagutzen laguntzen digu." he says looking at Samaritha.
Braddon looks back and forth between the speakers, unamused. He puts down his drink and folds his arms.
"Kial ĉiuj ĉesis paroli la komunan lingvon? Ĉu estas iuj neceso sekreteco aŭ ni simple estante gits kaj montrante ekstere? Kion ili diras?"
Samaritha colors and folds her hands in her lap. "I'm sorry; that was rude," she apologizes to Braddon. "I'm just surprised how many people around this table speak Varisian." She takes a breath and faces Saul at the head of the table. "Mr. Vankaskerkin, your offer is ... generous, to say the least, and it feels a little ungrateful to quibble. But I have to ask: If I were to accept your offer, would I be under any obligation to remain in your employ? I won't deceive you: I came to Riddleport to join the Cypherlodge, and if working for you would preclude me from accepting any position that might open up there ... well, I'd have to decline."
Saul sits back and gazes at her through narrowed eyes for a moment. "Well, my dear," he says slowly, "part of what I'm paying these men for is loyalty. And it sounds like that's a quality that's not on the table for you, correct? I mean, if I paid you tonight and Elias Tammerhawk were to offer you a place in the Cypherlodge tomorrow, you'd walk away from us without looking back, no Varisian caravan night?"
"Er... yes, that's correct, sir," Samaritha answers, a little pale but determined. "If I had an opportunity to get taken on at the Cypherlodge, I'd have to take it."
Saul looks back at her gravely for a moment, then grins beatifically. "Well, I have to admire that kind of integrity, don't I? Tell you what I'll do: These lads will get paid in advance because they're willing to commit to the Gold Goblin. I'll offer you the same pay but at the end of the week. If Sunday night rolls around and you haven't left us for the Cypherlodge, you'll get your ten gold; if you decide to leave us in the middle of the week, I'll pay you one gold for each day since your last payday. Assuming Mr. Deverin tells me you've been pulling your weight around here, of course," he nods at Tendal. "What do you say to that?"
Smirking at the response raised from both Tendal and Braddon, Phil briefly considers insulting them both in Shoanti... but restrains the impulse... for now. Tongue successfully bitten he keeps quiet, and returns to listening.
Dayn stares at the newly revealed Varisian woman before him as she tries to, in turns, charm and belittle her accusers. While his instinct is not to trust her, he can't but help notice that she is, indeed, also a young and quite attractive human woman, and that it is entirely possible that she tells the truth, and had simply gotten herself in over her head somehow.
Yet as the others discuss and decide her fate, he finds himself remaining silent, his tongue not yet willing to speak words in her defense.
As a decision is made made and she is led away he turns to watch, his eyes and hers meeting in a wordless communication just before the door shuts once again and she is gone.
Turning back towards the table and the lively conversation being held around it, the small town Elf continues to remain silent, his gaze now resting on the table as his mind spins and dances, confused feelings running through his heart.
As Saul makes his offer of employment Dayn looks up to hear the responses of the others. Finally, when all have given their answer save him, he clears his throat and speaks "Aye, there's little question your offer is a generous one Mr. Vankaskerkin, yet before I give my answer, there is one or two things I'd like to know."
Turning directly to Saul, Dayn looks squarely in the eyes of his potential new employer. His look is neither antagonistic nor friendly, but it is clear that he is paying very close attention to Saul's reactions and expressions "I've barely been in this town a day, and already I know that trouble seems to follow you like a lodestone. I know about the fight between Orik and Falk over Lil Scarlet. I know about how Cleg betrayed you, about your wife and the fire, and how you lost your hand. Or at least I've heard one version of the story."
Taking a few seconds to let all he has said so far sink in, he finally continues "I know I may just seem like some simple backwoods hick to some" with a quick glare at Tendal "but I've been alive longer than anyone here, save perhaps Laur" and this time with a companionable nod at the Dwarf "and I have no intention of getting involved in anything without knowing as much as I can about what, and who, I'm getting involved with. Now, as all here seem to agree, your offer of ten gold a week certainly seems a generous one. But such an amount makes me wonder. So, what I would like to know is, getting on board with you, Mr. Vankaskerkin, what else is there that we might be getting involved with that we don't yet know, or that you haven't yet told us."
Sense Motive: