Passing through Leeward Common, Phil is able to find a bakery he noted earlier, now selling the remains of their day's baking at a steep discount before closing. Walking along the road, he munches on a crusty loaf and notes that the crowd gets thicker the closer he gets to the river. As Leeward District shuts down, those looking for action are heading for Free-Coin. Several people are already milling about on the dock on the eastern bank of the Velashu, waiting for the ferry to return.
When it does, Phil crowds on with the rest, and the operator punts the flat boat upstream. Phillip catches his first glimpse of Maskyr's Island between the legs of the taller passengers as the ferry comes to rest at the dock at the southern end of Free-Coin. The sun has fallen behind the western ridge of the city, and the streetlamps and lights on the buildings glitter enticingly to the north.
"Well, I..." Braddon thinks for a second. A long second. "Not just anyone... I guess... so no. But if two people like each other then... even just a bit... but I guess you wouldn't need coin. But all jobs have stuff you don't like. Though I was never good at doing that stuff. So I guess, no. Not unless I could choose my clients. Do you think that'd be likely?" Braddon's brow remains furrowed.
Samaritha laughs with a shrug. "I don't know. I think Lil Scarlet works that way, choosing her clients rather than being chosen. I'm sure Shorafa does. But everyone else? Someone has to deal with all the unattractive people, right?"
Braddon and Samaritha return to the Gold Goblin and find, like those who returned before them, the carpet ripped up and bare stone awaiting the delivery of the new floor covering. "I suppose everyone's upstairs," Samaritha suggests, heading for the staircase. She finds Saul, Larur, Tendal, and Bojasc in the upstairs dining room. "Mr. Vankaskerkin," she offers cheerfully, "I've paid off your kitchen help and gotten your horns and tails back for you."
Whiling away the time in transit, Phil gets in some practice. Eyes roving the milling human cargo he tries to pick out obvious signs of wealth... as well as seeing if there were any other sneakthieves with the same idea...
Perception:
Sense Motive:
Though he's not stupid enough to try anything while pressed in on the vessel. After his survey he weaves and dodge his way to the port and forward on the boat - preferring to put one side to the water rather than be lost in the midst of the press.
"And where does gold come from if not a mine, Saul Vankaskerkin?" the dwarf rasps back. "I know, I know; people like to think it comes from a velvet case in a fancy shop, not dug out of the ground by a filthy dwarf with a pick-ax."
"Mr. Felden, I think the point that Mr. Vankaskerkin is making is that when you have people part ways with their coin, they should feel that they received something for it. The trick is that a casino doesn't produce any goods in the traditional sense. So what is produced here is experience." Tendal says, punctuating his remarks with his wine glass.
"You want them to walk out, empty pocketed, but full of an evening's entertainment...like a bardic performance, or a theater troupe. But instead of asking for money at the end of the evening, they give it to us up front. So getting them into the store to be relieved of their wages requires them to have a reason to come, night after night." Tendal says leaning back in his chair.
"Mr. Vankaskerkin," she offers cheerfully, "I've paid off your kitchen help and gotten your horns and tails back for you."
"Me too." Braddon hold aloft the apparel victoriously, then takes a deep breath and continues.
"I don't know what Dayn told you, but Oliver Bott kidnapped Ananda Mescher and dumped her in a guest room overnight but it's okay 'cause I returned her to her father 'cause her place had been looted, but I made sure she didn't know she was at the Goblin 'cause she was drugged until this morning so I blindfolded her so she didn't know she was here and put a mask on her so no one saw her leave and Shorafa's girls said we could just make a complaint to her about him." Braddon shuffles his feet a little nervously, hoping he remembered everything correctly.
Those with whom Phillip is sharing the ferry appear comfortable but not particularly prosperous; he would be surprised if any of them were carrying more in their pockets than he himself is at the moment. The well-heeled crowd either arrives fashionably late or uses a mode of transit other than the public ferry.
As for the mood of his fellow passengers, Phil is unable to discern any motive other than general revelry and anticipation. Like the wealthy, their natural prey, perhaps the criminal element prefers a later arrival: larger crowds, more cover of darkness, and time for everyone involved to have imbibed a little. Or perhaps, it occurs to the halfling as the ferry bumps up against the pier and the crowd disembarks, the security within the Overlord's domain is good enough that the smart pickpocket plies his trade elsewhere....
"Mr. Felden, I think the point that Mr. Vankaskerkin is making is that when you have people part ways with their coin, they should feel that they received something for it. The trick is that a casino doesn't produce any goods in the traditional sense. So what is produced here is experience." Tendal says, punctuating his remarks with his wine glass.
"You want them to walk out, empty pocketed, but full of an evening's entertainment...like a bardic performance, or a theater troupe. But instead of asking for money at the end of the evening, they give it to us up front. So getting them into the store to be relieved of their wages requires them to have a reason to come, night after night." Tendal says leaning back in his chair.
"Precisely," Saul puts in, nodding his approval at Tendal. "We're not selling a product; we're selling a dream, and you want to buy a dream in a place that looks like one. We could employ middle-aged matrons and retired sailors to serve drinks too, but they won't bring in a crowd like young women in revealing costumes. Speak of an angel, and we are graced with her presence!" he greets Samaritha as she and Braddon enter the room. "Excellent job, my dear," he grins as she unpacks the retrieved horns and tails onto the table.
Braddon's run-on sentence provokes a look of consternation, whether because he is concerned about its content or trying to parse its grammar.
"What?" Larur rasps, leaning forward over the table. "What's all this about Mescher?" His beetle brow proclaims that he, at least, was unaware of this development.
"At the time it was only a rumor, Larur, and you'd already left to arrange the carpet," Saul tries to placate the dwarf. "There didn't seem to be any point in bringing it up. You're sure it was Anton Mescher's daughter?" he asks Braddon. "She wasn't lying about her identity?"
Samaritha, to whom the Ananda Mescher situation is old news, sidles up to Tendal. "Has Malkith not returned yet?" she asks quietly. She has scarcely had time to begin to worry about the Harrower, however, before he appears in the doorway himself, returned from his excursion to Free-Coin. She smiles at him in greeting.
Phil continues to put his back to the water and ride out the remainder of the trip lost in his thoughts. Once landfall is made, Phillip continues on to the Watercress but does not yet enter. Instead he takes a quick recon of the surrounds.
Tendal waves a skewer in Malkith's direction as he comes in the door, rather than responding verbally to Samaritha. He then gets up and pours a second gobblet of wine and hands it Samaritha before returning to table.
"There didn't seem to be any point in bringing it up. You're sure it was Anton Mescher's daughter?" he asks Braddon. "She wasn't lying about her identity?"
"I've never met her before, so I only have her word. But she took me to what she said was her place. It was some nice apartment overlooking the harbour in that district past the Publican House. The drugged tea and food were still there half consumed, her rooms had been ransacked and her necklace stolen, and her housemaid was missing. She said the housemaid knew where the necklace was, so I figured whoever drugged her was disguised as the housemaid and it's not like she had time to set things up for me this morning. I figured it wasn't safe to leave her there and took her to the Gendarmes compound across from that Island Fortress. She asked for Anton Mescher by name, so I left her there. I told her it was Oliver Bott who brought her here, but she doesn't know where here is, or that I'm working for you. I told her I was working for Bott but had taken pity on her."
Braddon looks round for a drink and gently takes the one from Samaritha's hand. He has a swallow and returns it to her with a grateful smile before continuing.
"The guy at the ferry said she crossed yesterday with a bunch of girls that he didn't think were Shorafa's. She was given to them by the imposter, who was apparently really smelly and tried to cover it with heaps of perfume. The ferry guy said the tanner's wife had crossed, but while you could smell the perfume at Ananda's apartment, I don't know the tanner's wife and haven't smelled her perfume. I figure if Anton asks around, by the time he finds out she ended up here, he'll also know Oliver had taken custody of her and dumped her here. If you want, I can go see Shorafa and tell her Bott is making trouble behind her back. Apparently she doesn't allowing drugging and kidnapping without consent."
Samaritha nods her thanks to Tendal for the wine, then frowns in bemusement as Braddon helps himself to a sip. With a gentle smile at the half-elf, she sets the goblet down on the table in front of him before filling two more, keeping one for herself and handing the other to Malkith.
The dwarf looks near apoplectic by the end of Braddon's convoluted story. "General Mescher, the tiefling priestess ... and Galen Krump's wife? Wait, wasn't she...?"
"Now, Larur," Saul cautions, "let's not be too quick to judge. Everyone's got a past on them in Riddleport. Doesn't sound like Oliver to me," he turns back to Braddon. "He doesn't have the brains to mastermind this kind of plot; always possible someone else is pulling his strings, though." He sighs and rubs his brow. "Let's think this through: Mescher knows Oliver was involved so he's going to speak to Shorafa if he hasn't already. When Oliver's questioned, it will undoubtedly come out that he was here." He glances around the room for input. "Seems to me like we look better if we file a complaint against Oliver with Shorafa before we're contacted by the Gendarmes. Positions us as another injured party rather than an accomplice to the mistreatment of Mescher's daughter, yes?"
"Malkith and I saw Oliver take the girl into the guest area. Others would have seen too. We stopped him taking advantage of her. Now that I know she wasn't compliant that means either he was setting us up, or raping her. Maybe both. I'm only too happy to complain to Shorafa. And if you ever want him dead, I'd like to be selected for that mission too."
Braddon folds his arms.
The ferryload of people ambles northward, and Phillip ambles too, albeit with a hidden purpose. While looking as if he is nothing more than another member of the crowd heading for an evening diversion, he draws to the side of the road to let the others pass as he makes a quick and unobtrusive reconnoiter of the Watercress.
It's the southernmost of the three casinos in the district, a long, rectangular building on the riverbank; an attractive paint job and landscaped entrance can't conceal its former life as a warehouse. Apart from the single entrance visible from the front, windows for ventilation are propped open high up on the walls near the roof. Smaller outbuildings of more recent construction are visible at the north end and around back. To the south, a pier juts into what looks to be a manmade cove in the river, watched over by a uniformed man in a booth.
To the north and west, Phil can see the other two casinos that anchor the Free-Coin District; both are more imposing than the Watercress, having been built from the ground up for the purpose of impressing. The Dragon's Hoard is a tall, square building with a gilded portico; in the gathering dusk, light, music, and laughter spill out its front doors. Further to the north, the House of Nabin presents a more moody and mysterious appearance; the open-air rotunda is shadowy, splotched with sporadic circles of lamplight around the edges, and what Phil can see of the interior seems dimly-lit as well. Perhaps of more interest to the halfling, each of the two casinos have a prominent guardpost in front, staffed by a uniformed Gendarme, and he can see a few more of the Overlord's security force strolling across the plaza in the as-yet-sparse crowd. Apart from the casinos, a free-standing restaurant and a tavern are visible, as well as a pawn shop, a wedding chapel, and a few food kiosks.
"Malkith and I saw Oliver take the girl into the guest area. Others would have seen too. We stopped him taking advantage of her. Now that I know she wasn't compliant that means either he was setting us up, or raping her. Maybe both. I'm only too happy to complain to Shorafa. And if you ever want him dead, I'd like to be selected for that mission too."
"Let's not be too hasty," Saul chuckles. "But I think an official complaint is in order. Be polite, now; our quarrel's not with Shorafa but with Oliver. If she won't take action ... well, then, we'll have to worry about what that might mean, but no point getting too far ahead of ourselves."
"What action do you expect her to take? Or want her to take? And really, it's just my word against his. Well, and Malkith. And Dayn saw her this morning too. No, wait! He threw her something!"
Braddon races from the room down the steps to the guest room where he found Oliver the previous evening. He stops at the doorway, drops to his hands and knees and advances carefully into the room, scouring every inch as he does.
Malkith crosses the room, heading to Samaritha and accepting the glass he's offered with a smile in return. He slowly sips at the wine, listens to the conversation at hand and trying to make sense of what the others had discovered this day. He raises an eyebrow as his name is brought up. Then, using Braddon's abrupt dash for the guestrooms to interject himself, Malkith inquires, "What's this about the tiefling and drunk girl from last night?
Saul turns around in his chair to address Malkith. "Turns out she wasn't just a drunk girl but the daughter of the head of the Gendarmes. According to Braddon, she'd been dosed and led away from her home so it could be robbed. If her father had found her drugged at the Gold Goblin, it could have been bad -- very bad. We're hoping we've deflected some of his ire by returning her to him and showing that we're as much a victim in this scheme as she is. It'd be even better if we could point him to a real culprit to blame."
Braddon returns dusty and downcast.
"She must have taken it... the room certainly hasn't been cleaned."
He goes into a fit of coughing and reaches for the closest drink, stops for a second, chokes, then staggers to the glass that Samaritha set aside for him. He gulps half of it down.
"Thank you. Sorry."
Not wanting to tempt himself in the larger establishments nor make his face plain when the casinos were still mostly devoid of custom - Phil instead makes his way to one of the bars and settles into a seat with view across the plaza and nurses a flagon of ale for a time.
Braddon returns dusty and downcast.
"She must have taken it... the room certainly hasn't been cleaned."
He goes into a fit of coughing and reaches for the closest drink, stops for a second, chokes, then staggers to the glass that Samaritha set aside for him. He gulps half of it down.
"Thank you. Sorry."
Samaritha wrinkles her nose in sympathy at Braddon's disheveled state and dry throat, whisking her hand and repeating the incantation she used last night to remove the dust and cobwebs from his person -- and incidentally to flavor the wine in his glass like Varisian ale once more.
"I'm not a vindictive man," Saul replies to the question the half-elf asked before dashing out of the room. "I don't really care if she claps Oliver in irons or throws him a party. Complaining about his antics will hopefully allow us to establish that we had nothing to do with his actions on our premises. Also, Shorafa's reaction just might give us a clue as to whether she's the one working against us. You willing to go alone, Braddon, or do you want some company?" He glances at Tendal and Malkith.
Phil settles down with his drink and the view to watch night fall over Free-Coin District. It's full dark on the street outside far earlier than the gleam of light fades off the top of the ridge visible across the river to the east; by the time that light too is gone, the crowd passing by outside has grown much thicker. Most of the passersby do 'pass by,' on their way to the Dragon's Hoard or the House of Nabin, apparently, but a not-inconsiderable number turn aside to enter the Watercress across the way. Among these, Phil notices a group of halflings, both male and female; between the distance, the darkness, and the crowd, he can't be positive, but he thinks he catches a glimpse of yellow beads at one's wrist.
Braddon looks down in amazement at his now clean clothes and smiles gratefully at Samaritha before answering Saul.
"Well, I am a vindictive man, and from what I've seen and heard already from those around town, Oliver's death would make Riddleport a nicer place. But, you're paying me and I'm not foolish enough to try anything without your say, so a few words with Shorafa is what it'll be. I'd definitely prefer some company to watch my back though. And maybe someone with pretty... words too. I'm not exactly a master of politics."
He cracks his knuckles grimly and briefly glances at Bojasc.
A visit to Shorafa...that could be interesting...and Saul is hinting that he wants me to accompany Braddon.
"Excellent. I could use a walk after the meal. And I am certain that Shorafa will have a well stocked cellar, so poking around at Shorafa sounds like a marvelous idea." Tendal announces as he stands up, brushes off a few imaginary pieces of dust then taps his cane on the floor.
-thump, thump-
"Shall we proceed?"
"Uh..."
Braddon looks to Malkith.
"You were there too. And the elf was... maybe not."
Braddon reaches thoughtfully for his wine, sips some, looks startled, then pleased, then grins mischievously at Samaritha.
Malkith turns the rapidly unfolding events over in his mind. Some of the names being used were familiar, such as Oliver Bott. Others, such as Shorafa, he'd heard before but wasn't quite sure of their significance. Anton Mescher was a new one. Then there was th one name he hadn't heard yet.
"What do you know about Lil' Scarlet?" Malkith blurts out. Realizing the abruptness of his question, he quickly explains, "Volo was head over heels for some woman he met at one of the casinos in the Free-Coin district - you might call him obsessed."
Phil counts to eighty or so in his head before making his way towards the Watercress. Time enough for them to get a drink and table, but not yet turn to the storm. He passes into the casino proper and looks to spy the group of slips within.
"What do you know about Lil' Scarlet?" Malkith blurts out. Realizing the abruptness of his question, he quickly explains, "Volo was head over heels for some woman he met at one of the casinos in the Free-Coin district - you might call him obsessed."
At the mention of Lil Scarlet's name, Larur scowls at Saul, and Saul glances sharply at Tendal. "Lil was the ... catalyst, you might say, in my son Orik's abrupt departure from Riddleport," Saul responds cautiously.
"Another of Shorafa's stable," Larur wheezes accusingly, "just like Oliver Bott and Desy --"
"Has been part of her stable," Saul interrupts to clarify. "Mercurial sort; she operates on her own at times. Much as Shorafa's taken with her, even she can't control her. At the time of the incident with Orik and Cleg's younger brother, she supposedly wasn't working out of the House. There were the rumors about love potions; Shorafa wouldn't sanction that. The uproar drove her back to the temple for protection in case Cleg tried to target her when he couldn't find Orik, but I never heard she gave up her flat. I believe Tendal spoke with her yesterday," he nods to the Magnimarian. "Did she make any threats? Say anything suspicious about the Goblin?"
Tendal taps the cane on the wooden floorboards as he thinks back.
"No...hmmm...no nothing specific. I can say with great certainty that she dislikes you intensely Mr. Vankaskerkin. I doubt that is of any great surprise though."
"Who, me?" he winks and grins broadly. "Must be an act; I'm very likeable." Sobering up a bit, he explains to Malkith, "People say she's held a grudge ever since Orik killed her more lucrative lover. I just happen to be the only Vankaskerkin in range of her displeasure."
"And she's a Calistrian, and Shorafa's favorite, and if she's chosen to take revenge on Orik through you, we're down a tunnel without a pickaxe," Larur scowls.
Braddon turns the events of yesterday over in his mind, but it seems like months ago.
"Sounds like Shorafa has a lot of people doing outside work. I wonder what she thinks of that."
He drains the rest of his wine, thanks Samaritha again and turns to the others.
"Well, I'm ready."
On the other side of the Velashu River, Phillip sets down his empty mug and crosses the street to the Watercress. The interior of the casino is relatively subdued, with brass railings and green plants around the walls. The floor boasts four separate skiffs tables as well as tables for cards and dice with chairs sized for both human and halfling patrons. A fountain gurgles against the back wall, and a quartet of instrumentalists is playing at the far end. As promised, there is a bar with furniture sized for Small clientele on one side with the more standard sized tables and chairs on the other.
Around one of the tables Phillip spies his quarry: the three halfling girls along with Olin and Ewart. Ethel seems to have felt that she had something to prove after Phil's comments about her manner of dress at lunch; her attire is both elegant and designed to accentuate the fact that she is a grown woman, despite her height. Her new bracelet is easily noticed on mostly bare arms. She glances toward the door as Phil comes in and gives him a small smile, but then turns her attention back to her companions around the table, content to let him approach at his own pace.
The smile offered is returned and Phillip begins to languidly make his way over to their table. His eyes scan around for Marce as Phillip swings past the bar to order a bottle of sweet apple wine to be delivered to the table where the halflings sit. His slow approach gives him ample time to admire Ethel's costume change... and perhaps rue that he himself is still garbed in the same drudgery that he's borne since arrival into Riddleport. Perhaps an expansion of the wardrobe would be in order... but to the matter at hand.
Arriving he gives nodded head and formal greetings to the four, before taking Ethel's hand that bears the bracelet upon her wrist and giving the top of her hand a courtly kiss "Milady. Now this is a much more agreeable drapery..." giving her a wink and sliding into a chair beside her.
"Hmm," she smiles back. "Enough to scandalize Betta, if she'd be caught dead in such a den of iniquity as the Free-Coin District."
The other halflings return Phil's nod of greeting, Maddy glancing toward Ethel with a sly smile at his arrival. Marce does not seem to be in attendance tonight. Shortly after he has taken his seat at that rare public luxury, a chair he doesn't have to climb into and a table that doesn't meet his chin, the wine he ordered is delivered to the table; the human waitress has to lean down to place the tray with the bottle and glasses on the low surface.
Braddon and Tendal take their leave and head out into the rapidly-darkening streets. A gleam lines the top of the western ridge, indicating that the sun has not yet set on the far side, but Riddleport is already well into dusk. Both Braddon and Tendal learned the location of the House of the Silken Veil during the course of their day, so finding it is not a problem. By the time they arrive, it is completely dark, but the open space to the south of the temple is brightly lit by multiple lampposts. Moths and flying beetles hover around the flames, and beneath them, women in light dresses and gossamer shawls and watchful men in black leather stroll the plaza along with potential customers and window-shoppers.
"This'll be interesting. Second day in town and running messages between the big players already. So, Shorafa got Saul's hand cut off, but can't keep Oliver in line. Or Lil. And she's supposed to be looking out for the little people. But have a thing for 'exotics'. She doesn't sound real smart. Do you think she's a front for someone else? A very attractive front, I hear. But still. And while Lil just seems upset she lost her playthings, what's going on with Bott? Is he making a power grab? There's no way he just saw a drunken girl and went, 'I just think I'll rape her where I can get caught.' And all this trouble just for her necklace. Just knock the place over when she's out. Much easier than buying drugs and killing and pretending to be the maid. And the smell. I don't remember Bott smelling. He probably hired the tanner's wife. I wonder how we'd track her down. Maybe the Banshee is the tanner's wife. Was Volo a tanner? I hate all this cloak and dagger stuff. Bounty hunting is much easier. So many people think, 'I'll just hide with me mates here.' and half the time you post a reward and the mates just hand 'em over. Or you wait outside for a day and by day two they're bored and head outside for a walk. Like duh! I swear, some of those bounties I almost felt guilty getting paid. Ooh, that looks like the temple ahead. Do you want me to do the talking?"
Tendal barks a laugh as Braddon finishes his breathless ramble. "I do not believe that I am your volumetric match Mr. Hurst. Please, feel quite at liberty to make your inquiries. I will play whatever role you feel is appropriate to the situation."
At the least...this does look to be entertaining!
Keeping an eye out for guards, faces he may recognise or any sign of trouble, Braddon strolls casually into the temple and looks around.
He addresses the first person to approach him.
"Hi there. We're here to see Shorafa. We wish to register a complaint."
Braddon keeps looking around, taking in as much detail as possible. He picks up and examines something long and thin, before placing it back where it came from. He grins.
Malkith nods with familiarity as Saul retells his story. "Thank you for clearing that up. Perhaps it would best for me to accompany Herr Deverin and Herr Hurst. It sounds like there may be information there that we're all looking for."
He follows behind the two men as they depart for other parts of the city. Malkith remains silent as they walk the streets, half paying attention to Braddon's ramblings. Only when the half-elf starts making inquiries about Volo does he speak up. "Volo was a vagabond and confidence man; dishonest enough that the caravan he arrived with left him here. As for Thuvia, she was his lover, but I highly doubt they were married. She's not much better; a gold-digger and opportunist." He thinks for a moment before concluding, "I suspect Lil' Scarlet may have been the one to hire Volo for the job at the Golden Goblin."
He thinks for a moment before concluding, "I suspect Lil' Scarlet may have been the one to hire Volo for the job at the Golden Goblin."
"Ah ha. Maybe Lil and Bott are in it together in some sort of take over bid. Shorafa may even thank us. Well, alright, I made that thanking bit up. No one ever thanked a bunch of strangers who turned up from nowhere to complain that your business model is failing."