She seems a little startled by the question. "You mean... if some rich uncle I never heard of passed away and left me a fortune? I-- I don't know. Growing up, I always knew my options were to work or to get married, and I didn't want to get married. If I didn't have to work in Betta's shop....," she muses a moment. "Maybe have my own shop," she shrugs, "where I'd sell pretty things, not practical things like Betta's. And everything would be hanging where I could reach it, not up high, so it would be the tall folk inconvenienced by having to lean down instead of me having to climb up," she smiles a little wickedly at the thought.
Wry smile creasing the corner of his mouth Phil's intensity slackens off again as he japes "Perhaps take Betta on as your assistant and force her to run off after underpinnings?" allowing a chuckle as he idly spins the bracelet on Ethel's wrist with one hand. Without eye contact he muses "Rich uncle... or other interested party..." a few heartbeats allowed to let Ethel make of the statement what she will.
Phil eases back into the relative banality of small talk as the food arrives and the pair of halflings set about filling their bellies. Phil in particular speaks of his like for strong coffee... and wonders if Ethel knows of a decent merchant who sells both that and other spices.
"The girls? Domestic help up in Windward, I believe. They like to hit the Publican House once they're off work, and then last night they were headed to Old Stumpy's new casino. Hear it was an exciting time."
"A smell?" He grins wryly. "Working on the river, I can't say as I can stand to be picky about smells. Most of the wives and mistresses about town wear perfume and pretty hefty doses of it to counteract the summer funk off the harbor, as do Shorafa's girls. Yesterday afternoon?" He thinks and then shakes his head. "No one that sticks out. Desy ... that is, Mistress Krump, the tanner's wife. She always wears enough perfume that I can smell it over the river, as it's her husband's business responsible for half the reek in the Reek District," he chuckles.
"Excellent. Thank you. Some coppers for your ferry, and a silver for your aid."
Braddon follows Ananda northwards through the streets of Riddleport towards their destination, his eyes peeled for any trouble. "See. Plenty of information for your father to follow up on. He'll find out who's responsible in no time."
"Any new venture that could rock the boat, you're going to have to step very carefully or end up in the drink."
"It's pretty much the same everywhere else Liry. Cities, villages, families...they all have their power groups. The hardest thing is to figure out where all the pieces fit on the board. Then, as long as you don't stray into the semi-legal areas, like gambling, you should be able to chart a path. Its when you start fiddling around in the shadows that the hidden interests come into play. To be honest, I have never seen the reason to work that way, there is to much money to be earned honestly, to worry about illegalities."
He pauses when the waitress arrives with the wine and oysters, then when she leaves he continues.
"I always look for ways to tie up interests as well. When different groups get their own piece of the action, they become invested."
"Mmm. These are quite good!" he says as he slurps down an oyster.
Over a bowl of oyster stew, Ethel informs Phillip that there is a venerable dry goods store on Leeward Common called Flask & Stubb's, which sells coffee and various spices that arrive on ships from Garund and other exotic locales.
With the practiced eye of a Riddleport citizen, she glances up at the position of the shadow of the Cyphergate to judge the passage of time. "Oh, Phil," she says with what sounds like genuine regret, "I'm going to have to go if I'm to get back to the shop on time."
Meanwhile, inside the Three Billed Duck, Liry takes a little more time over her meal. "So, spending a thousand gold on a legal business venture: you weren't specific the first time." Her eyes twinkle across the table at him jokingly for a moment; then she grows a little more sober. "I've been on both sides of the legal line," she confesses, toying with an empty shell on the plate, "and I've done a lot better since I went legit so I guess you're right about that. With a thousand gold, you could hire your own stable of gladiators to compete at Zincher's arena; course, they'd have to win for you to make money. Or you could invest in a cargo run in one of the merchant ships; put in your money and sell at a profit when the goods arrive. If you knew where to mine a bunch of adamantine or some rare metal like that, you could sell it to the Gas Forges."
In the meantime, Braddon escorts Ananda up the road northward until they reach the westward jut of the eastern ridge that almost reaches the Velashu. Coming around the edge, he can see a large citadel on an island in the river; on the right, set back in a cul-de-sac against the escarpment, is a military-style complex, complete with barracks and stable. A guardhouse by the road overlooks the approach; the man within is wearing the uniform of the Gendarmes who came to take away the bandits from the Gold Goblin the night before. He frowns at Braddon and Ananda forbiddingly. "What is your business here?"
"Anton Mescher, please," Ananda replies politely and without the slightest sign that she might be intimidated.
Phillip nods and sighs slightly before settling up with the waiter and offering his elbow to Ethel once more "As I said Miss Braum, time is painfully short. Let us return then" walking his lady back towards the sewing shop that is her employ. Phil stops a block short and kisses Ethel upon the back of the hand before pointing at her collar, suggesting that she need return to her prim self "Shall you be at the Watercress tonight?"
Ethel starts, having forgotten about her undone buttons, and fastens them again with a sheepish smirk. She takes a last admiring glance at the beaded bracelet on her arm before undoing her cuff and sliding the bauble out of sight beneath her sleeve.
"Shall you be at the Watercress tonight?"
"Mm-hm," she smiles languidly as she refastens the button at her wrist. "Shall you?"
Malkith and Samaritha make their way toward the eastern edge of Lubbertown, the rocky ridge to the south blocking their view of Riddleport and the sea. Ahead and to their left a lone hill rises, its sides peppered with small stone markers and a few hut-like mausoleums on top; this is the final mortal destination for those Riddleport residents who aren't buried at sea or rich enough to arrange for a more dignified resting place. In front of the hill, a long, utilitarian building serves as a combination mortuary and columbarium.
Just before the scattered structures of Lubbertown peter out along the caravan road east, Samaritha catches Malkith's sleeve and quietly points out a rudimentary edifice several feet off the main trail. It is little more than a broken-down wagon with sailcloth canopies spread over the front and back for protection from the elements. Some wooden stools are set under the canopy out front, and the wagon door hangs open invitingly. On the outer wall of the wagon itself, lovingly retouched and looking like the only part of the entire property that hasn't simply been allowed to weather and decompose, is a near-lifesize painting of a snub-nosed young woman wearing nothing but tousled red curls and aesthetic smudges of dirt; she smiles coquettishly out toward the road, grand feathered wings spreading from behind her shoulders. This must be the Dirty Angel.
"Ah, there are the brains that I was looking for!"
Tendal leans back in his chair, swirling the wine around in his glass.
"Still too close to the business though. The cargo is a good idea, if we can find one, we don't end up doing the work, just put the cargo together. The gladiators...well I don't know a thing about gladiators, so we would have to be backers for someone who does. Preferrably a fighter or former gladiator who is looking to retire."
With a smirk on his face and a twinkle in his eye Phillip replies "I will now... Till then Miss Braum" proferring an elaborate courtly bow with arms wide before spinning on his heel and moving away. He does not walk overquick, but also does not look backwards or linger in place.
Phillip proceeds from there to Flask and Stubb's humming idly as he does so... though still remaining wary to the streets of Riddleport as he does so.
"Well," Liry shrugs, "Jasker Gant handles the half-orc fighters, and you'll never pry him away from Boss Croat. He's in line to take over the whole operation when Croat finally kicks the bucket. Cleg Zincher's gladiators are trained by Akron Erix, and that's interesting. There's some say Cleg passed over Akron when he took on Old Korvosa as his capp. A lot of men might hold a grudge over that, but I haven't heard anyone say Akron's spoiling for a fight. Still, it's possible he'd be open to overtures -- although it would make Zincher mad as all nine hells. Apart from that, you could look to steal away one of the gladiators worth promoting to trainer; but I wouldn't know who might be qualified or interested, and you'd probably still make an enemy of whoever's stable you lured them away from. Gord likes you," she points out with a smirk, "and he isn't exactly archmage material. You might get some inside information about Croat's fighters out of him, if he didn't realize what you were up to."
Phil denies himself the pleasure of glancing back to see if Ethel might be watching him go, instead heading back to Leeward Common. He had located Flask & Stubb's a moment ago when passing through with his lunch companion, and now his step is sure and confident as he strolls up to the shop. It looks to be one of the older buildings on the square but no less well-maintained for its age. A brass plaque engraved with the name of the establishment is affixed to the wall next to the front door, which is propped open in this warm weather. A pungent but not unpleasant aroma wafts from the interior of the building, the smell of many different spices, both exotic and domestic, mingled together. Open bins and kegs with scoops in them are visible within, and a man stands behind a counter with a glass display.
Breathing deep of the exotic aroma Phillip moves towards the man at the counter... waiting a few seconds to see if he might be noticed before clearing his throat if needed "Good day sir, I have a need for coffee that I was hoping you would be able to satisfy."
The man seems unused to looking down over his counter for customers, but once he spies Phillip, he is all courtesy. "But of course, sir! We have all the finest beans direct from Garund. Does the gentleman prefer a full body with a bold and robust taste or a smoother, richer flavor? We also carry some light and mellow roasts for a more delicate palate."
Dayn takes the other pouches with nothing other than a small smirk and tucks them away in his pack as requested. Before opening the door though he asks "You know you'll never likely be back here, so is there anything else of value to you here? And, more importantly, is there anything here you can think of that might help us determine where, and who, Volo's mystery lady is? And Oh,"[/b\] he adds, remembering at the last moment, [b]"Are there any more of these around?" as he pulls out both the envelope with the powder and the strange globe
Waiting for her answers, and allowing whatever extra time she may need, when Thuvalia declares she is completely ready to leave Dayn holds up a finger while he explains "Now, and I won't take any argument on this Thuvalia, you let me do all the talking. If I let you two get into it you'll be likely to start a war. So regardless of what she says, or how she might insult you, just ignore her and leave the matter to me. It really shouldn't be too hard, after all, if you think about it, how much do you really care what that harpy thinks of you anyway?"
Not leaving until he gets, and believes, her agreement, the Elf finally opens the door and steps out. Holding up his hand to forestall the inevitable screeching he says in a loud but calm and clear voice "MADAM! That will be quite enough of that. Now, listen to me carefully as I will not be repeating myself. You have every right to collect your rental fees for those that lived on your property. However, you simply cannot expect this one young lady to be responsible for the past due monies of a bunch of adult men. I assure you, Miss Barabbio here shall be having nothing further whatsoever to be doing with Volo his his crew, as she is under my protection now. And before you ask, no, I cannot tell you exactly where that bastard Volo is, for I do not know, and nor do I care."
Stopping to take a breath and step even closer to the woman, using his height and size to his advantage he says firmly "So, this is what shall happen. Miss Barabbio will pay you her share of the rent, and not a copper more. Out of the kindness of my heart and to insure I will sleep contentedly tonight, I will give you another five silvers out of my own pocket. That will be all. As well, if Volo and his men don't return, I say you should feel free to sell off any of their belongings that they've left behind. So, we are in understanding and agreement here then, yes?" he finishes, his tone clearly indicating that he is not expecting anything other than full agreement.
Bluff:
Intimidate:
"Why but a strength that would waken the devil himself and curl the nose hairs of the most obstinate dwarf... I sleep heavy and prefer to waken with as little trouble as possible."
"Anton Mescher, please," Ananda replies politely and without the slightest sign that she might be intimidated.
"And here, my dear, I shall leave you. These guards will escort you safely to your father and you can tell him all about Oliver Bott's little games. I'll see if I can find out any more information for you. If I do, I'll have it delivered to you courtesy of here. I'll also keep an eye out to see if he left your birthday present lying about the brothel. What did it look like again?"
Braddon keeps an eye out for anyone who might wish to stop him, his feet at the ready to run.
"And if you'd like to reward me, or even just contact me again, just leave a message for me at the Publican house. Address it to Braddon... Heart."
And with a slight bow, he departs in a dignified manner, not running until he is out of sight around a corner... or chase is given.
"Looks like we found the place," Malkith observes as they draw closer. He leads Samaritha through the door. They pause over the threshold for a moment, allowing their eyes to take in the scene before them. Malkith glances at his companion to check her reaction before scanning the room for anyone that might be Filsha. After a cursory visual sweep, he heads to the bar.
"Zer da ona hemen?" he inquires to whomever steps up to serve him.
"Why but a strength that would waken the devil himself and curl the nose hairs of the most obstinate dwarf... I sleep heavy and prefer to waken with as little trouble as possible."
"Perhaps the gentleman would be interested in Sargavan Red," the man replies, somewhat obsequiously, as he scoops out some beans for Phil to sniff. "It's noted for its antisoporific effects."
"You know you'll never likely be back here, so is there anything else of value to you here? And, more importantly, is there anything here you can think of that might help us determine where, and who, Volo's mystery lady is?"
"This satchel is all my belongings," she shrugs the shoulder over which she slung the pack, "and the one I gave to you is Volo's. If he has any token from her and he didn't carry it with him to the Gold Goblin, it would be in there."
"Are there any more of these around?" as he pulls out both the envelope with the powder and the strange globe.
"Volo purchased those from an alchemist for the job," she replies. "We took all of the equipment with us last night; there is none left here. The pellets release smoke when they are broken and the liquids mix together; you saw that last night. The powder will explode with a flash if it is burned or thrown down hard enough to ignite it and blind anyone watching for a few seconds." She smiles. "We could use it against the old crone if needed," she suggests.
"Now, and I won't take any argument on this Thuvalia, you let me do all the talking. If I let you two get into it you'll be likely to start a war. So regardless of what she says, or how she might insult you, just ignore her and leave the matter to me. It really shouldn't be too hard, after all, if you think about it, how much do you really care what that harpy thinks of you anyway?"
Thuvalia narrows her eyes dangerously. "I will not speak to her," she accedes. "But I will defend myself if she begins to use that stick of hers!"
The Elf finally opens the door and steps out. Holding up his hand to forestall the inevitable screeching he says in a loud but calm and clear voice "MADAM! That will be quite enough of that. Now, listen to me carefully as I will not be repeating myself. You have every right to collect your rental fees for those that lived on your property. However, you simply cannot expect this one young lady to be responsible for the past due monies of a bunch of adult men. I assure you, Miss Barabbio here shall be having nothing further whatsoever to be doing with Volo his his crew, as she is under my protection now. And before you ask, no, I cannot tell you exactly where that bastard Volo is, for I do not know, and nor do I care."
Stopping to take a breath and step even closer to the woman, using his height and size to his advantage he says firmly "So, this is what shall happen. Miss Barabbio will pay you her share of the rent, and not a copper more. Out of the kindness of my heart and to insure I will sleep contentedly tonight, I will give you another five silvers out of my own pocket. That will be all. As well, if Volo and his men don't return, I say you should feel free to sell off any of their belongings that they've left behind. So, we are in understanding and agreement here then, yes?" he finishes, his tone clearly indicating that he is not expecting anything other than full agreement.
Thuvalia remains behind Dayn as he delivers his ultimatum, well out of range of the woman's cudgel. The Varisian landlady squints at the elf suspiciously. "Price for 5 weeks in wagon is thirty-five gold," she insists in somewhat broken Common when he pauses for her to respond. "But," she glances up uncomfortably at Dayn's height and the weapons ready at his belt, "I let her take her things and go for seven gold."
"Seven gold!" Thuvalia squawks from the doorway of the wagon, despite her promise. "Why do you not divide the rent equally among the mice and the vermin? Ought they not pay their fair share for the truly luxurious living conditions you provide? You include all our roommates, and I would be overpaying my share to give you seven copper!"
"Thirty-five divided five ways is seven gold!" the woman shouts back over Dayn's shoulder before addressing herself once more to the elf. "You say she will pay her fair share; then let her pay!"
Upon Daynadrian's insistence, Thuvalia grudgingly removes a coin pouch from her satchel and counts out seven gold coins into the woman's grasping palm. "Maiatzaren jarri zure begiak zaudenean lurperatuta, zaharra sorgin," she snaps as she pays. "Come, Daynadrian, are we done here?"
"Not so fast," the woman raises her walking stick like a bar to block their way. "The five silver so you sleep well tonight?" She holds her palm out to Daynadrian expectantly.
"I don't suppose you know anything about ships and engineering," Liry suggests to Tendal in their little corner of the Three Billed Duck. "The captains are always willing to pay for improvements to make their ships go faster, either to outrun the pirates or to be outrunnable, if they are pirates."
Meanwhile, elsewhere in Lubbertown, Malkith and Samaritha enter the Dirty Angel. It certainly lives up to the first half of its name: Muddy bootprints cover a floor that looks like it might never have been swept; grime is thick where the floor meets the walls; and in the summer heat, large greenish flies buzz around the counter.
It's a little early in the day for the place to be too busy, but a cramped table in the corner seats a trio of rough-looking drivers and an old man seated at the bar with a dented stein in front of him looks up in interest as the pair step in. A well-muscled man behind the bar steps up to respond to Malkith's inquiry.
"Sua ura," he replies, revealing missing teeth beneath a nose that looks to have been repeatedly broken. "Mendi ihintza. Usteldura erraiak. Ezer ez da egokia emakume bat." He looks at Samaritha with a grin that looks more predatory than charming.
Tendal smiles and chuckles. "If I knew anything about ships beyond the business of cargo and shipment, I wouldn't be here today. My father would have nailed me to a board and propped me up in the shipyard. No, sorry Liry, if it isn't math, business or the arcane, I don't have very much knowledge. I really should study up on engineering when I get a chance though."
"While I was sitting here, I had a thought about oysters. Do you know the owner of this establisment...or more importantly, the cook? I want to see if there is a decent supply here in town. They were really good oysters...it might be possible to sell them in Magnimar as a luxury item."
Armed with a description of Ananda's missing necklace, a deep blue spinel in a gold setting, Braddon maintains a dignified pace until he is out of sight of both her and the gatehouse; then he runs like mad around the ridge hoping to lose himself in the bustling streets before anyone comes looking for him. Having made a point of pinpointing the location of Shorafa Pamodae's House of the Silken Veil during his meandering carriage ride through the district that morning, he takes the first left on the far side of the ridge and heads toward the three-story building with a glimpse of a garden on top, towering over the rest of the neighborhood but dwarfed itself by the cliff rising up across the street behind it. As he approaches the nearest of the three entrances, its diaphanous yellow veil fluttering in the merest hint of breeze, he notices a nearby storefront doing a brisk business selling meat and fish pasties and suddenly realizes that it is past midday.
"While I was sitting here, I had a thought about oysters. Do you know the owner of this establishment...or more importantly, the cook? I want to see if there is a decent supply here in town. They were really good oysters...it might be possible to sell them in Magnimar as a luxury item."
"The Crispins own the place," Liry shrugs. "That's Alex at the bar and his wife Quinta going in and out the trays and dishes. She'd be more likely to be able to direct you to their supplier; she's in charge of the kitchen." She smiles conspiratorially across the table. "Besides, she likes to flirt with the male customers. Pay her a few compliments, and she'll tell you anything you want to know. Go ahead." She nods toward the proper and somewhat heavyset woman as she emerges from the kitchen door once more. "I'll wait for you outside; she won't want to talk to you if you're with a woman."
"Sua ura," Malkith responds, sliding a gold coin across the counter, "Eta Filsha Peschki." He looks about the room, sizing up the drivers before eying the old man at the bar.
The bartender examines the coin closely, testing its mettle between his remaining teeth, then fills two rather grimy mugs from a keg behind the counter. "Filsha," he addresses the old man, sliding one of the mugs to him as he sets the other before Malkith, "igarlea erosten."
"Perhaps the gentleman would be interested in Sargavan Red," the man replies, somewhat obsequiously, as he scoops out some beans for Phil to sniff. "It's noted for its antisoporific effects."
Phil takes a bean to his nose and sniffs, ensuring that it appears as strong as promised "Aye, this should suffice... a half pound to begin, with myself returning for more should it prove satisfactory."
Taking the offered mug, Malkith moves down the bar to the old man. "Maiatzaren zerua argi eta errepidea lehorra," Malkith greets him. He raises a vessel in a friendly salute before choking down a mouthful of the burning liquid. After attempting to repress the urge to sputter and cough, Malkith quickly puts the mug down and address Filsha more directly, "Patuak esan zidan ezagutzen duzu gizon bat, Volo; scum sort duten gizon bat, hala nola kontratatu litzateke zenekien dezake."
"The Fates have told me that you know a of man, Volo; that you might know the sort of scum that would hire such a man."
As he approaches the nearest of the three entrances, its diaphanous yellow veil fluttering in the merest hint of breeze, he notices a nearby storefront doing a brisk business selling meat and fish pasties and suddenly realizes that it is past midday.
The smell of food calls to Braddon and with his lack of impulse control he is inside the store before he's even read the sign. "Meat pie?" he salivates. "Beef perhaps? Strong flavour."
He looks around and remembers his mission. "Shorafa's girls like pies, hey? Do you know where I could find Anya and Lexy?"
Tendal winks at Liry before he places his utensils neatly across his trencher and pushes his chair back. Before Liry can escape, he makes his way around the table and pulls her chair back as well, then as she stands, he leans forward to whisper in her ear, "I will meet you outside in a moment."
Tendal then moves quickly over to stand near the kitchen door, brushes an imaginary piece of lint off of his doublet, and steps through the door.
"Magnificent!" he says, with gusto, and fully meaning it. "Quinta, you are an marvel of culinary skill! I was told last night at the Goblin that I should take the time to come to your taven and sample your food, and I am most certainly happy that I did! I am sorry that I stepped into your kitchen, but I wanted to make sure that I was able to congratulate you on such a wonderful meal, and I didn't want your hands to be full when I did!" Tendal says effusively.
"The oysters by far were my favorite! Better than I have ever had in Magnimar, for certain. Your preparation for them was magnificent. Don't worry, I won't ask your secret. I don't want to spoil the mystery! But tell me one thing, are you using local oysters? They seemed quite perfectly fresh."
Phil takes a bean to his nose and sniffs, ensuring that it appears as strong as promised "Aye, this should suffice... a half pound to begin, with myself returning for more should it prove satisfactory."
"Certainly, sir," the man replies. "Would you like us to grind the beans for you, or do you want them whole?"
The smell of food calls to Braddon and with his lack of impulse control he is inside the store before he's even read the sign. "Meat pie?" he salivates. "Beef perhaps? Strong flavour."
He looks around and remembers his mission. "Shorafa's girls like pies, hey? Do you know where I could find Anya and Lexy?"
The names don't draw an immediate reaction from the people around him, but by the time Braddon has worked his way up to the counter to retrieve his lunch, the man who hands him his pie asks, "You looking for Lexy? One of Shorafa's girls, reddish hair, tattoo? Nice girl. You can usually find her out in front of the temple, southern entrance, if she's available."
"Magnificent!" he says, with gusto, and fully meaning it. "Quinta, you are an marvel of culinary skill! I was told last night at the Goblin that I should take the time to come to your taven and sample your food, and I am most certainly happy that I did! I am sorry that I stepped into your kitchen, but I wanted to make sure that I was able to congratulate you on such a wonderful meal, and I didn't want your hands to be full when I did!" Tendal says effusively.
"The oysters by far were my favorite! Better than I have ever had in Magnimar, for certain. Your preparation for them was magnificent. Don't worry, I won't ask your secret. I don't want to spoil the mystery! But tell me one thing, are you using local oysters? They seemed quite perfectly fresh."
The proprietress, a plump woman nearing middle age with dark hair smoothed back neatly under her cap, looks up with surprise as Tendal enters the kitchen, then blushes with pleasure at his praise. "Why, of course our oysters are fresh; we take delivery every morning. Man named Skender, operates out of the River District. I'm afraid you have the advantage on me, sir; you know I'm Quinta Crispin -- Mistress Quinta Crispin; that's my husband Alex out at the bar -- but I haven't had the honor of an introduction." She offers her hand coyly.
Taking the offered mug, Malkith moves down the bar to the old man. "Maiatzaren zerua argi eta errepidea lehorra," Malkith greets him. He raises a vessel in a friendly salute before choking down a mouthful of the burning liquid. After attempting to repress the urge to sputter and cough, Malkith quickly puts the mug down and address Filsha more directly, "Patuak esan zidan ezagutzen duzu gizon bat, Volo; scum sort duten gizon bat, hala nola kontratatu litzateke zenekien dezake."
"Patuak esan duzu? Ez da beti Patuak bidea? Esango dute non gizon bat gizona gizon bilatzen ari zaren lan bildu aurkitu. Dena da beti hain zaila Patuak batera." He drains off the last of his stein in one quick gulp, then pulls the new mug in front of him possessively. "Volo," he says the name appraisingly. "Elkarbanatutako dut Volo alditan edariak. Zergatik behar duzu esan dut, zer ez du esan zizun berak? Lagun bat nolako gizon beste negozio kontatzen du, batez ere, patuak egingo dira hizkuntzak?"
Speaking with a relatively clipped but professional tone "Ground, please... I will wait." and takes a slow turn around the shop as the proprietor sees to his order. Once completed Phillip pays and thanks the man and heads back out into Riddleport proper - making a bee line back to the Gold Goblin.
The names don't draw an immediate reaction from the people around him, but by the time Braddon has worked his way up to the counter to retrieve his lunch, the man who hands him his pie asks, "You looking for Lexy? One of Shorafa's girls, reddish hair, tattoo? Nice girl. You can usually find her out in front of the temple, southern entrance, if she's available."
"Many thanks, sir. This must be a good area to work." Braddon smiles and winks at the man, takes his pie, and heads towards the southern entrance.
"Southern entrance!" Braddon smirks to himself. "Oh do grow up!"
The man goes behind the counter and weighs one-half pound of coffee beans, then grinds them into an oversized square of parchment, the strong aroma permeating the shop. When he is done, he folds the package into a rough envelope and seals it with a dollop of deep blue wax, pressing the insignia "F&S" into it. "There you go, sir; I trust your purchase will be satisfactory."
Taking his packet of coffee, Phil returns to the Gold Goblin.
Returning to his room, Phillip carefully moves within ensuring that nothing had been disturbed - before tossing the packet of coffee upon his bed and returning to the casino proper. He makes his way towards the office of Saul - but has his eyes open for either Fiora of Bojasc along the way.
The half-elf makes his way around the west side of the temple, munching on his beef pie. There is an open space in front of the building, between two temples and facing the street; it is dotted with benches and lampposts, making for as comfortable an outdoor plaza as one is likely to find in Riddleport. Several young women dressed in light summer dresses to bare their shoulders and arms stroll the area, talking to one another or to passersby; a few men in black leather armor with whips coiled at their belts seem to be keeping a watchful eye on the scene.
Braddon quickly spies Lexy's auburn head. She smiles at him warmly as he approaches, then seems suddenly to recognize him with a start and looks around nervously for the nearest armored man.
Back at the Gold Goblin, Phil finds his room undisturbed. Making his way up to Saul's office, he spies no one but the cleaning staff; on the main floor, the furniture has all been pushed against the wall, and the stained carpet is half pulled up in preparation for laying a new.
It is not until he has gone upstairs and knocked at Saul's office that Phil finds Bojasc; the Varisian opens the door and looks down at the halfling sourly.
"Who's that?" Saul's voice asks from inside the room. "Ah, Phillip! Come in, come in. I'm expecting a few visitors this afternoon, but they haven't arrived yet. What were you wanting to speak to me about, sir?" Saul is seated behind his desk in his oversized chair; he shuffles some papers out of the way as Phil enters.
Tendal takes the offered hand and bows over it in a courtly manner. "Charmed, madame. Tendal Deverin at your service."
"Well, I will be off for now. I don't want to interrupt you while you are at your art. But I look forward to dining her with you again with great anticipation." and with a flashing smile and a wave, Tendal ducks back out of the kitchen and makes his way out to the street to meet Liry.
"Well that was a good plan, Liry. Went quite well, in fact. The name of the individual is "Skender"...who apparently poffers his wares in the River District."
"A visit is in order for Mr. Skender, just not today. So, what is next on the social calendar, Liry?"
Sense Motive:
If Dayn feels sure that the old woman is telling the truth about the amount she charges for weekly rent he does indeed encourage Thuvalia to pay it.
When the shrewd harridan then insists on her five silvers before 'allowing' them to leave, he smirks and counts out the coins and winking to Thuvalia as he says "Why most certainly my dear, after all, it's not as if the left hand knows what the right is doing anyway."
Allowing the landlord to ponder over his private joke, he takes Thuvalia by the arm and leads her quickly away before the hag can think of some other way to squeeze coins out of them. Once out of earshot he says "See now? That wasn't so bad, was it. All taken care of and now you don't have to look over your shoulder for the rest of your life wondering if some harpy with a cudgel is stalking you for her rent money."
Laughing, feeling fine, he asks "So where too next? I suppose we should look carefully though Volo's belongings here, but, hmmm, are you hungry? For I know of a fine place for lunch, the Three Billed Duck. Do you know it? I think the proprietress, Mistress Crispin, is a bit sweet on me." he chuckles, winking once again.
"Hmph," Thuvalia scowls. "Not so bad for you. Your purse is lighter by five silver; mine, by seven gold. Grasping cow. Still," she relents, "we got away with the pouches of Volo and the rest of them. Let her sell their flea-ridden clothing for a few coppers. Hungry? Of course I am; I couldn't eat from that picked-over table of scraps this morning." She slips her hand through the crook of Dayn's elbow for the stroll back into town.
"Well that was a good plan, Liry. Went quite well, in fact. The name of the individual is "Skender"...who apparently proffers his wares in the River District."
"A visit is in order for Mr. Skender, just not today. So, what is next on the social calendar, Liry?"
Liry is half-sitting, half-leaning on the railing around the patio when Tendal exits the tavern. She pushes herself back to her feet as he approaches. "Skender," she muses. "I think I know where his place is. Grimas would know for sure. Where next? Well, I think we've seen all the sights of Leeward. We could take the ferry and go up to Windward. It's nice up there; there's a breeze and a view and all the fancy houses. You could do the tourist thing and walk to the foot of the Cyphergate; maybe pick up my ghoulette equipment on the way back."