"You can't fight ghosts on an empty stomach," Braddon explains as he follows Gristav out to breakfast.
"So, if Lil has Larur and Saul, why's she hiding in the Boneyard with them? Won't the ghost get her?"
Braddon, Gristav, and Tendal head out toward Leeward District, home of both Boss Croat's Compound and the Three-Billed Duck, while Phillip and Snake climb the stairs to the second story, where Bojasc's room is.
"You can't fight ghosts on an empty stomach," Braddon explains as he follows Gristav out to breakfast.
"So, if Lil has Larur and Saul, why's she hiding in the Boneyard with them? Won't the ghost get her?"
"I suppose, if he could afford it.", the magus answered uncharitably. "There's no ghost. There's a man, pretending to be a ghost, and a man believing him. That's you. Stop it. Do you mourn for the puppet the other puppet hits with the tiny bat? It's a show. Track your way backstage, we've need of your eyes and blade. Your imagination, not so much."
Phil walks with couched confidence to Bojasc's door and thumps upon it loudly... striking thrice, before waiting a span of ten and repeating the measure. Upon the sixth impact of flesh on wooden portal he punctuates the thump with a called "Bojasc! Are you up and receiving?" turning to Serpe with a raised eyebrow.
Shaking his head in annoyance, "Probably passed out. Or hungover. Or both."
"There's no ghost. There's a man, pretending to be a ghost, and a man believing him. That's you. Stop it. Do you mourn for the puppet the other puppet hits with the tiny bat? It's a show. Track your way backstage, we've need of your eyes and blade. Your imagination, not so much."
Braddon furrows his brow.
"So there's two men with puppets as well as Lil, the ghost and Larur and Saul? It sounds like half the town is there."He clutches his belly.
"Maybe it'll make more sense when I've had breakfast."
There is no answer from within Bojasc's room nor any sound of movement. With some sense of foreboding, Phillip tries the door. It is locked.
---------------------------
The other three men pass the Mystery of the Gate and through Leeward Common, already thick with wagons and kiosks as the day's market gets underway. Braddon notes Anya and Lexy's building on the right as the group approaches the Three-Billed Duck on the left side of the road. At a table in the cobblestoned courtyard outside the tavern, Natinilinus Greatreave is sitting against the railing with a large plate of griddlecakes; on the other side of the railing, his dog waits for tidbits to be dropped over the side.
Phil gives the door another thump for good measure "Bojasc! We're spiking the door to keep you closed in unless you speak with us." waiting to confirm there isn't any response before turning to Serpe "Only one way in or out... I'm not entirely sure if I'm joking about keeping him entombed...."
Natinilinus Greatreave is sitting against the railing with a large plate of griddlecakes; on the other side of the railing, his dog waits for tidbits to be dropped over the side.
"Master Greatreave", Gristav greets from beyond the bars, scritching Sludge with a hand sadly empty of food, a point the hound confirmed at once, then twice, and a third. Between scritches.
"May I present Tendal Deverin, of the Deverin trading house, of Magnimar. And, you know Braddon, I recall. Tendal, Master Natinilinus Greatreave, an eye and mind and nose for detail, demonstratedly diligent, and master to this moister one, here."
Phil gives the door another thump for good measure "Bojasc! We're spiking the door to keep you closed in unless you speak with us." waiting to confirm there isn't any response before turning to Serpe "Only one way in or out... I'm not entirely sure if I'm joking about keeping him entombed...."
"Might not be a bad idea. If he is so drunk that he won't wake, he's useless anyway." Snake adds his own two cents by banging on the door himself. When no response inevitably comes, "I think we're beating a dead horse on this one," he says with a shake of his head as he looks to the door in expectation of a possible response.
There continues to be no response from the other side of the door.
"Master Greatreave", Gristav greets from beyond the bars, scritching Sludge with a hand sadly empty of food, a point the hound confirmed at once, then twice, and a third. Between scritches.
"May I present Tendal Deverin, of the Deverin trading house, of Magnimar. And, you know Braddon, I recall. Tendal, Master Natinilinus Greatreave, an eye and mind and nose for detail, demonstratedly diligent, and master to this moister one, here."
"Gentlemen," the gnome replies, waving a syrup-dripping fork with dignity. "You will forgive me for not rising, as this is a particularly piquant stack of griddlecakes, and it must be savored at its ideal temperature. Feel free to join me; the good lady of this house, while leaving something to be desired temperamentally, is an artisan of the griddlecake."
Shaking his head, a thought just occurred to him. "Hold on a sec on spiking the door, bub. I think I might be able unlock this thing. If not, I'm all for spiking the door." Shooing Lucky out of his pack, he retrieves the tools from within and pulls out what he needs. Studying them for a long moment as if he's trying to remember something, "Alright, here goes nothing," he then proceeds almost surgeon-like with an attempt to pick the lock.
"Gentlemen," the gnome replies, waving a syrup-dripping fork with dignity. "You will forgive me for not rising, as this is a particularly piquant stack of griddlecakes, and it must be savored at its ideal temperature. Feel free to join me; the good lady of this house, while leaving something to be desired temperamentally, is an artisan of the griddlecake."
Of all the things that Tendal expected out of this meeting, a slobbering dog and a stack of griddle cakes were not it.
Perhaps they are jesting with me? Tendal thinks, glancing over at Gristav with mild incredulity.
"Good morning Master Greatreave. It is a pleasure to make your aquaintance, even at this unfortunately early hour. I am sorry that we interrupted your meal..." he trailed off, not entirely certain how to proceed in the face of such an odd introduction.
Sensing a moment of hesitation, Braddon bravely demonstrates by seating himself at the table.
"More griddlecakes!" he calls within. He smiles around, pleased with himself.
Sensing a moment of hesitation, Braddon bravely demonstrates by seating himself at the table.
"More griddlecakes!" he calls within. He smiles around, pleased with himself.
"Meat and fruit, please, as well.", Gristav said to the server, who was still looking at Braddon. And might be, for some time. "And is it too soon for cider?"
Gristav leads Tendal around through the gate then back to the table, hushing, "Ask him to describe the cakes, and see if you don't imagine he might have a nose that could help us. As well as time we lack to lend a lingering lookabout lark..."
Tendal joins Braddon and Gristav as they get arranged and seated. As usual, he takes the time to adjust his coat, smooth out wrinkles and prop his cane against the table as he takes seat with the others.
"Master Greatreave, I cannot say that I have ever had griddle cakes. To be honest, I don't even know what they are made of. But as we have not yet broken our fast, I believe that I will join you and Mr. Hurst in this culinary adventure." Tendal says, eyeing the warm stack of flat cakes steaming slightly in the cool morning air.
Phil is initially taken slightly aback at Snake's suggestion of picking the lock, before settling in to watch with a smirk on his face. He cautions "I would think that Bojasc still has uses either for us or our absent patron... so I wouldn't act to see him enraged unless we had little other choice."
Snake kneels down to work at the door with his lockpicks. After a few minutes, the mechanism clicks open.
--------------------
At the Three-Billed Duck, Quinta Crispin steams out of the tavern at the call for more griddlecakes. She seems about to free her tongue to speak her mind to the gnome when she spies the other three man at the table and modulates her step to a less aggressive pace as an ingratiating smile spreads across her face. "Gentlemen! Good morning! A fine summer day to breakfast on the cobblestones, isn't it?" Having taken the orders of the three newcomers, she flutters her apron and eyelashes as she turns back to the tavern to fetch the food, satisfying herself with a parting glare at the dog obliviously scratching itself outside the railing.
Phil is initially taken slightly aback at Snake's suggestion of picking the lock, before settling in to watch with a smirk on his face. He cautions "I would think that Bojasc still has uses either for us or our absent patron... so I wouldn't act to see him enraged unless we had little other choice."
"You'll get no argument from me, bub. The last thing I need is a brainless brute coming after me with whatever he's got handy. Especially one who probably won't feel a thing if he's toasted enough." As the lock clicks open, Snake finds himself a but stunned at his own capabilities. "Alright, I think I got it." Snake then opens the door and moves to where there's enough space for the pair to be able to see and/or walk in if decided. "Bojasc?" he calls out as he scans the room while remaining just outside the door.
Phillip remains at Snake's hip looking to see if the room is occupied.
"Gentlemen! Good morning! A fine summer day to breakfast on the cobblestones, isn't it?" Having taken the orders of the three newcomers, she flutters her apron and eyelashes as she turns back to the tavern to fetch the food, satisfying herself with a parting glare at the dog obliviously scratching itself outside the railing.
"Poor, reviled Sludge", Gristav pouts empathetically. "What news, Greatreave? We've some of our own, but I'm hoping to prove my praises of you, to my fellows, here. When you've breakfasted, of course."
"Good Morning Madame Crispin. It is quite a lovely morning, only enhanced by the promise of provender provided promptly by your wonderful kitchen," Tendal says expansively with a momentary smile of amusement.
Snake cautiously opens the door on Bojasc's room, a spartan chamber furnished only with a chest of drawers, hard wooden chair, and narrow bed. The windows in the western wall are uncovered and stare out over the dilapidated buildings of the River District. Bojasc is not present.
---------------------
Mistress Crispin leaves the party with a simpering giggle in response to Tendal's compliment.
"What news, Greatreave? We've some of our own, but I'm hoping to prove my praises of you, to my fellows, here. When you've breakfasted, of course."
"The Garundi woman," the gnome replies, gesturing emphatically with his fork. "I have made inquiries, but as far as I am aware, she is not presently in Riddleport. A healer, in service to the ship Teeth of Araska. Travels under the name of Ishana."
Snake moves in - with Luck following him - and looks around for anything that might be of interest. "Must of left during the night because I never saw him leave this morning."
"What news, Greatreave? We've some of our own, but I'm hoping to prove my praises of you, to my fellows, here. When you've breakfasted, of course.""The Garundi woman," the gnome replies, gesturing emphatically with his fork. "I have made inquiries, but as far as I am aware, she is not presently in Riddleport. A healer, in service to the ship Teeth of Araska. Travels under the name of Ishana."
Closing, and lowering his tone, Gristav agrees, "Just so. We've confirmed all that. Some from herself, shortly ago. Interest has moved to other trails. If it's a good time for scents, we've two you might have memory of, and could have mission toward? A second woman, of greater interest (and caution, suggested), and a dwarf, of greater urgency..."
"Hmph," the gnome comments, seemingly a little disgruntled that his information was unnecessary. "A woman and a dwarf? Last known location, and how long ago?"
Mistress Crispin returns, laden with breakfasts. "Fresh griddlecakes," she announces, setting down the steaming plates, "smoked mackerel. This is some of the first of the melon for the season. Fresh apricots are done, though I can bring you some potted or in jam, if you like. Tea, gentlemen?"
------------------------
Back at the Gold Goblin, Snake enters Bojasc's room and takes a look around. It's hard to tell -- the room is bare anyway, and Bojasc doesn't seem the type to have a closet of clothes -- but it appears that, unlike in Saul's room next door, the contents of this room may have been packed up and removed.
Phil looks relatively grim... a clear portion of him obviously would have preferred to find the mercenary passed out in a corner. He sighs "Aye... left or was called... either is troubling. Nothing here looks like it's set for him to come back to either." walking in behind Serpe to see for himself. "I'd propose we set to securing the building? See to a locksmith and spend a bit more time ensuring there's not a nook or cranny we've missed?"
Nodding, "Yeah I'm guessing we should get started as soon as possible on that. Looks like we're in for another long day," he says with a frustrated shake of his head.
"Aye... I can ask my lady friend if she's willing to venture out in search of a keymaker. We can take another look tip to tail while we wait?" looking to Snake to see if he agrees before adding "And lets lock this back up... just in case he returns."
"If she's willing that would definitely be of some help. That would free us up to take that one more look around this place you mentioned. And yeah, the last thing we need is that one returning and finding his door wide open; I can only imagine the fit he'd throw." Snake closes the door and then attempts to relock it.
As he seems to have managed it successfully, "I think that'll do it." Placing his tools back in his pack, "Alright, time to go to work."
Phillip and Snake relock the door to Bojasc's room, hoping that, should the man return, he won't notice anyone has intruded.
"Hmph," the gnome comments, seemingly a little disgruntled that his information was unnecessary. "A woman and a dwarf? Last known location, and how long ago?"
Mistress Crispin returns, laden with breakfasts. "Fresh griddlecakes," she announces, setting down the steaming plates, "smoked mackerel. This is some of the first of the melon for the season. Fresh apricots are done, though I can bring you some potted or in jam, if you like. Tea, gentlemen?"
"Brava. Tea, indeed. A strong tea, around mackerel smoke, beside the faint sweet-bitter of the melon. This woman paints with flavors.", Gristav says to Tendal, though with a smile and bow to their hostess. ”That stew, nights ago?”, he continues as she leaves, ”Her craft. The pie? Hers…”
Quinta beyond earshot, Gristav turns to Natinilinus, hardly breaking cadence as he answers him, ”The woman is a murderess, and never without her scent. You may even recall it, we’ll see, when sniffing is appropriate.” Gris chuckles, but sobers to add, ”The dwarf is my oldest friend in this town. My only, if I’d been asked some days ago. And she has him. As a lure, for a third man. So, perhaps still alive. We want all three, with varying degrees of benevolent or harmful intent. Sound like your game?”
Phil gives a short nod, thankful that Snake agrees "Give me a moment, I'll meet you back in the main hall." Waiting for an affirmation before moving off back to his room.
Quinta beyond earshot, Gristav turns to Natinilinus, hardly breaking cadence as he answers him, ”The woman is a murderess, and never without her scent. You may even recall it, we’ll see, when sniffing is appropriate.” Gris chuckles, but sobers to add, ”The dwarf is my oldest friend in this town. My only, if I’d been asked some days ago. And she has him. As a lure, for a third man. So, perhaps still alive. We want all three, with varying degrees of benevolent or harmful intent. Sound like your game?”
"I find, and I find out," the gnome replies. "I follow the Truth, wherever it leads. What is done with what I uncover is nothing of my concern. But I must know: where last seen, and how long ago? We must begin at the beginning, not somewhere in the middle."
Nodding, "Sounds good." Snake will then make his way back to the main room, Lucky following right behind.
"Agreed," Braddon responds between mouthfuls.
"I don't know where the lady hails from, but her lair - one of - might grant you insight. It's en route to the dwarf's home, if you would insist on that. Which I'll agree is your right, but I've brought a cheeseclothed pillowcase of his, and a fading sample of the lady's scent. I'll admit to hoping you'd eureka on one or the other, and we'd all rush off, the hound, the gnome, two halves of an elf, and the merchant prince, as if in the entre' to some bad tavern's joke." Gristav was buoyed by his own fey as he spoke, but when he'd finished, waiting for a griddlecake's grace for Greatreave's rejoinder, burden settled across his features, the weight of worry, and willful wiles, the wont of weildful vengeance. And, the flitterling alighting on one shoulder, Hope, that Harm, ahead in the race, might not yet have won.
"Gristav, now you sound like the introduction to a bad Magnamundian play." Tendal says, touching a napkin to his lips. "And while I am quite aware that this whole endeavor will likely end in some tumult and trouble, I would like to pretend to the illusion that we will find what we are looking for sitting quietly at table (much like ourselves) drinking wine and having a discussion about Riddleport's weather in the fall."
"With the scent, Sludge can find them ... if we merely happen to stumble across their trail somewhere in the roads and alleyways of Riddleport. With their last known location, we can track them. Sir," he turns to Braddon, "I must protest the way you are drowning those griddlecakes in syrup. The intricacies of their flavor will be lost, simply buried beneath mindless sweetness."
"I must protest the way you are drowning those griddlecakes in syrup. The intricacies of their flavor will be lost, simply buried beneath mindless sweetness."
"Whaf yor point?" Braddon asks through another hapless victim.
"Gristav, now you sound like the introduction to a bad Magnamundian play." Tendal says, touching a napkin to his lips. "And while I am quite aware that this whole endeavor will likely end in some tumult and trouble, I would like to pretend to the illusion that we will find what we are looking for sitting quietly at table (much like ourselves) drinking wine and having a discussion about Riddleport's weather in the fall."
"Well, I've seen your magisters. You're better at Illusion than I. I'll hope- I'll pray, that you're right." Perhaps reminded, Gristav conjured a cascade of cold at the bowl of a spoon, then shook it through the air, gathering dew into frost. Another spoon scraped the first clean, and the frost melted. A drop of syrup thickened and sweetened the warming water, and Gristav shrugged toward the butterfly, with an offering gesture.
"With the scent, Sludge can find them ... if we merely happen to stumble across their trail somewhere in the roads and alleyways of Riddleport. With their last known location, we can track them. Sir," he turns to Braddon, "I must protest the way you are drowning those griddlecakes in syrup. The intricacies of their flavor will be lost, simply buried beneath mindless sweetness."
"Whaf yor point?" Braddon asks through another hapless victim.
"Braddon is not retained for his appreciation of intricacies.", Gristav says, smiling at the half-elf he's called 'brother'. "Mindless sweetness, indeed. To each, their own. He's ours."
Braddon swallows another mouthful and looks to Natinilinus.
"Are you any good at moving beds? Lil has great taste in beds. I think only she's slept in it. It smells of her but it looks comfy. Gristav wouldn't let me try it." Braddon glares at his 'brother'.
"I'd like to move it to my place anyway."