Shadow over Riddleport

Game Master Joana

Shaking his head slightly "Aye, but lets not speak of the rocks when the jewel lies before us" winking at Ethel as he does so. As the server delivers the apple wine, Phil orders a glass of port for himself and asks if food is furnished as well as drink in the casino.

As smalltalk is made and topics of the day discussed, it is clear that Phil is favoring Ethel and more attentive to her words than the others of the table - though Phil does keep ears open to words that could be of interest to his new paymaster. Insterested in where Marce may be, but not willing yet to put words to that line of inquiry.

Phil finds that, much as at the Goblin last night, light finger foods are available, enough to keep customers from leaving the casino due to hunger but not a sit-down dinner that might distract them from the gaming tables. The Watercress specializes in cucumber sandwiches and savory cheese tartlets.

His tablemates' conversation is disappointingly but perhaps not surprisingly mundane. Olin and Ewart are discussing ship design, in the astoundingly misguided belief that the girls will find their work as interesting as they do. Apparently a captain named Josper Creesy has made some experimental modifications to his ship, The Flying Cloud, which promise to make it the fastest in the harbor, but he is closely guarding his engineering secrets, to the chagrin of their employer Casamen Cazynsik. Almah and Maddy are smiling politely and making 'mm-hmm' noises at all the right times, but Phil, having little more personal interest in the story than they do, can tell that Almah is watching the door hopefully, seemingly waiting for someone else to arrive, while Maddy is tapping her foot impatiently against the table-leg and glancing out at the skiffs games, just waiting for a lull in the conversation to give her an opportunity to slip away to the lake.

Ethel uses Phillip's arrival as an excuse to ignore Olin and Ewart entirely, angling herself toward Phil and turning her shoulder to the discussion of ship renovations. She is pleased that he remembered her favored drink and sips from a goblet of apple wine as Phil mulls over his port. Despite his urging to put Betta and her work day aside, she spends a little time grumbling about the small yappy dog her employer has recently acquired. "It's all because she's too cheap to pay the rat catchers," she complains. "Said a terrier would do the job for stray odds and ends of meat, and she'd be a few silver ahead for the month. But now that she has it, she babies that awful little thing. Looks like a rat itself and growls at me every time I have to walk past it alone. Good as gold when she's around, of course. And it yaps like crazy when anyone comes in the store. Of course, Betta says it's like a bell and a watchdog in one instead of seeing it's a nuisance that's probably driving customers away. I wish she'd lock the thing upstairs during business hours. I didn't accept a position with the understanding I'd be working with animals."

Meanwhile, at the House of the Silken Veil, once the trio are ready, Braddon leads them through the diaphanous curtain at the entrance into a wide hallway, papered in scarlet and gold. Only a few steps inside, the distant stench of the river and smells of the hot summer night are swallowed up in the exotic aroma of incense and perfume. The hall leads into a dimly-lit lounge, its walls hung with tapestries. Low couches and statuary are scattered about the room, and a small fountain plashes soothingly in one corner.

A young woman with reddish-blonde hair, dressed and made up in black and yellow, smiles at the new arrivals. "Welcome, strangers. What pleasures can we provide for you today?" When Braddon asks to see Shorafa to register a complaint, her smile turns into a frown of annoyance. "Have a seat," she says shortly, gesturing to the cushioned settees and disappears down a different corridor.

Phillip pays lip service to Olin and Ewart's dissertation on the pros and cons of various varietals of shipbuilding differences... but his ears do take note of names and disputes that are monetary or power based. Taking advantage of the next server to draw near, Phil orders some cheese tartlets for the table - and if specifically pressed by anyone adds some cucumber sandwiches as well.

At the telling of the yappy dog Phil proffers sympathy and an attentive ear, and when her spiel is spent responds "Never had much a spot in my heart for dogs, nor any animal that can't be reasoned with." flashing a smile and wink self-referentially against his profession and past "The dog's a problem that could be solved though... if you were looking for the generosity of interested strangers in that regard?" swirling his glass of port as he finishes and a hardness in the corner of his eye suggesting that measure that could be taken could be explicit and final.

"Oh!" Ethel seems a little taken aback at Phil's implications. "I don't think I could...." The suggestion that her employer's pet could be permanently silenced simply because it annoys her has caught her by surprise, and Phil is not yet certain if the idea displeases her or entices her with its possibilities.

The arrival of the food forces a pause in Olin and Ewart's conversation as they enjoy the tarts, and Maddy is quick to take advantage. "I'm for skiffs for a while," she announces, bouncing to her feet and smiling across the table at Phillip. "Phil? You up for the challenge?"

"Give it thought" said to Ethel quietly before turning to Maddy "My mind and hand could be turned..." before turning to Ethel to wordlessly inquire as to a suggestion in favor or against the invitation, as well as whether Ethel wished to accompany.

Ethel's expression says that a game or two of skiffs sounds infinitely more enjoyable than sitting and listening to Olin and Ewart talk shop, but her glance at Almah says she feels a bit guilty about leaving her roommate as their captive audience. "C'mon, Almah," she offers. "You can see the door as well from the floor as from here."

"No, go ahead," Almah smiles back a little anxiously. "I'll just wait here with the boys."

Her conscience assuaged by having made the offer, Ethel shrugs. "All right; we'll be out there if you change your mind." She hops off her chair and joins Phil and Maddy as they head to the cashier to buy chips. The hour is not yet late, but from Phil's perspective, the crowd at the Watercress doesn't seem as thick as that at the Gold Goblin last night. "She has a beau who's a sailor," Ethel rolls her eyes at Phil in explanation. "His ship was expected in today. Marce was to meet him at the wharves; he says it's not safe for Almah to go down there and wait for him herself."

What's Phillip's skiffs strategy tonight? He's got four "free" games on the Gold Goblin's account before he'd have to dip into his winnings or his own pocket.

When Braddon asks to see Shorafa to register a complaint, her smile turns into a frown of annoyance. "Have a seat," she says shortly, gesturing to the cushioned settees and disappears down a different corridor.

Braddon looks to Malkith.

Taking the initiative to draw hip to hip and walk towards the cashier with arm around Ethel's waist Phil responds "Don't be too harsh on the lass... I would have hoped you would be similarly perturbed if I had not made it to our luncheon earlier today." cashing in a single gold for chips. As they made their way to the skiffs table he released his quarry and gave her a wink "Good luck milady"

General Strategy:
If he gets a really bad lay - focus on helping the girls.
If he gets a middling lay - help Ethel if she has a better chance, otherwise focus on mitigating loss.
If he gets a good lay - go for the win.

Feel free to retcon any conversation while waiting.

The wait at the House of the Silken Veil is not long, although it might feel that way to the three men, unsure what to expect from the high priestess. As they are sitting, one of the girls from the plaza passes through with a client, a somewhat paunchy middle-aged man with a drooping moustache, and the two disappear down a dimly-lit corridor. Braddon remembers his conversation with Samaritha and wonders if the prostitute is able to gin up the slightest bit of attraction to the man; perhaps he has a great personality.

Shortly afterward, the woman in black and yellow returns. "Shorafa will grant you an audience," she allows a little haughtily. "This way please." She leads the three down a corridor whose walls and floor, in contrast to the luxurious decor in the entry and lounge, are clean but bare. She opens a door into a spartan room containing nothing but a large desk with a simple wooden chair behind it and three more set before it. Another door behind the desk is closed. "Have a seat. She'll be with you in a moment." The waspish woman closes the door behind her as she departs.

Malkith trails behind as the group is led down the hall and continues to linger at the back of the room in which they are deposited. Almost compulsively, he reaches for his harrow deck. As they wait, he gives the deck a quick shuffle before turning over the top card. Just as quickly, he buries the card to the middle of the pack and returns the deck to its velvet pouch.

At the Watercress, Phil finds the lay not falling to his profit as easily as it did at the Gold Goblin. Maddy, on the other hand, starts the evening with luck in her back pocket: In the first game, she battles a stranger to a stalemate, and in the second, she has the clear advantage from the beginning and rides it all the way to victory. Phil can tell that she is a fiercely competitive admiral who plays to win, prone to both big wins and big losses.

Ethel, on the other hand, is a merely middling player; if luck is not on her side, she has little tactical acumen to make up the difference. It's not until the fourth storm that she is dealt a good lay; with Phil's help, she is able to maneuver her way to a second-place finish to recoup some of the chips she's paid in. As for Phil himself, his only decent starting position is in the third storm; with skill he is able to parlay that into a modest victory which leaves him even for the night.

At the conclusion of the fourth storm, while Ethel is collecting her share of the payout, the group is joined by Olin and Ewart, accompanied by Marce. "Maddy, Phil," he greets them with a nod and a handshake for Phil. "Hope the lake's treating you as well as the Gulf treated Win." He grins over his shoulder at the table, where Almah is smiling and talking as animatedly as Phil's ever seen the rather shy girl with a red-haired halfling dressed as a sailor. "Thought we'd give the lovebirds some privacy. Ethel, looks like you've had some success."

Tendal looks around at the surroundings with disdain.

"Well this is disappointing. I expected more velvet and incense.", he sniffs, running a finger across the top of the table.

"Apparently we aren't supposed to get comfortable...I bet the chairs are splintery too."

Even as Tendal is examining his finger for evidence of dust, the door behind the desk opens, and a woman enters the room. The first thing one notices about her is her skin: the purpling color of a cooling corpse; the second thing is the pair of slender goatlike horns curving back over her black hair. These startling facts aside, Shorafa Pamodae is what is politely termed "a woman of a certain age," but she carries herself with a confidence and an aplomb which belie the years she has accumulated.

"Gentlemen," she greets them, looking at each of them separately if briefly with blood-red eyes. "Do have a seat," she goes on, doing so herself behind the desk. "I understand you have a complaint to make against my establishment?"

With a twinkle in his eye and a wry smile Phillip doffs his imaginary cap and playfully responds "Mi'lord Mayor, aye - we've done well enough for the diversion." moving a little away from the skiffs table "Fortunes seem to have favored me since my arrival in Riddleport... both at work and at play." casting eyes towards Ethel and giving her a roguish wink and grin.

Braddon shifts uncomfortably and looks at Tendal then at Malkith before almost imperceptably shrugging.
"Well, um... not so much against your establishment. It's very nice actually. Um... from what I've heard. Not that I wouldn't want to... but anyway. It's against Oliver Bott. He kidnapped someone. Ananda. Ananda Mescher. She's just a girl. But he drugged her, had her place looted, and tried to rape her at our establishment. Um, the Gold Goblin. Last night. We work for Saul. Mister Vankaskerkirk. Malkith and I saw him." Braddon jabs a thumb at his companion.
"And apparently you don't do that kind of thing. Unless the client asks. And she didn't. So we want Bott dealt with. You have a reputation for that kind of thing." Braddon looks at her defiantly.

Malkith cringes inwardly as Braddon opens his mouth. He had expected a much more confident speech prepared by the over-confident half-elf. He glances at Tendal, hoping the city-bred dandy would speak up. He wasn't sure if Tendal's apparent disdain for the current situation would help or not, but it certainly wouldn't make them appear quite so much the bumbling goons.

As Braddon mentions Malkith by name, his thoughts come back to the present. "I can vouch for Herr Bott's presence and actions last night at the Golden Goblin. We interrupted him before he could take advantage of the young woman, who was clearly in an intoxicated state at the time.

"Herr Vankaskerkin trusts that you did not authorize these actions at his establishment." Malkith pauses to gauge Shorafa's reaction before continuing, "Therefore, he will assume that you're quite capable of reprimanding Herr Bott's indiscretions on your own terms. Rather than the need to involve a third party."

"Fortunes seem to have favored me since my arrival in Riddleport... both at work and at play." casting eyes towards Ethel and giving her a roguish wink and grin.

Marce follows Phil's eyes to Ethel and down her arm to the new bracelet at her wrist. "So I see," he says with more a grimace than a smile.

Ethel stows her chips in her pocket and moves over to hook her arm through Phil's rather possessively. "Unusual for a ship to make harbor after dark, Marce," she observes. "Did you come straight here from the wharves?"

"No," he answers frankly, rattling his own chips in his hand. "Stopped by the Publican House on the way here. You up for another game, Phil, or going to take shore leave for a while?"

The priestess's red eyes narrow as she listens to Braddon's accusation and Malkith's attempt to frame his words more diplomatically. "There is no coercion in the House of the Silken Veil," she replies, "unless, as you say, the client asks. Oliver can be ... overeager at times, but I find it hard to believe that he would defy me so egregiously. Then again," she concedes, "no one told me he was at Saul Vankaskerkin's little soiree last night, either. Pip!" she raises her voice without turning away from her visitors.

Almost instantly, the door behind her opens again. At first, it appears to have opened on its own; then the men lower their eyes to see the blond head of a halfling at the height of the doorknob. "If Oliver is not with a client, then bring him here to me," she commands. The halfling gives the three strangers a curious glance, nods, and shuts the door again.

"You have no objection, I presume, in my hearing Oliver's side of the story? You gentlemen are new in Riddleport, are you not? I don't believe you've done me the honor of introducing yourselves. Except for ... Malkith, was it?"

Feeling the possessive tug of Ethel at his elbow, Phillip smiles at Marce's request "A break is in order I think, though no doubt we shall still remain once you've sated your own thirst at the storm." moving away with Ethel and letting the lady's own steps guide his... be they towards the red-headed returner or elsewhere.

His eyes cast towards the quartet of musicians and whether their music is meant purely for entertainment of the ear, or if kinesthetic exercise was encouraged. Any dancing?

As always his eyes are open to opportunity, and while he does not look overmuch in detail - he does attempt to get a sense of the relative affluence of the attendees.

Take 10 Perception for 18

Malkith nods in confirmation of his name. He then looks to Tendal and finally Braddon for their reaction to facing Oliver. Malkith knows his testimony is only valid for verifying Oliver's presence and intended actions with the girl last night. Anything more is beyond him.

"Sorry, my name is Braddon and yes, I am new," he concedes a bit uncertainly. "So maybe we have the wrong blonde, tiefling with scars from the lash on his naked back." He cocks his head ever so slightly, then sits back in his chair and folds his arms.

A moment later, Braddon's brow furrows. "I'm surprised you didn't know he was there. He told us he was delivering a message from you. He told us to... leave the children alone. Well, it wasn't us abusing drugged girls who have only just turned sixteen." Braddon points at his chest with his thumb.

"And, no," Braddon shows the palms of his hands, "I have no objections to you hearing Oliver's side of the story. I'd love to hear it myself." He suppresses a smile and puts his hands in his lap.

The priestess gives Braddon an amused glance as he describes the tiefling. "No, that does sound like Oliver," she admits unperturbedly, "but I sent him on a seek-and-find mission last night, rather than to deliver a message. Tell me, what had you to do with children that he reprimanded you so?" As she asks the question, she glances inquiringly at the heretofore-silent member of the triumvirate.

Ethel turns away from Marce with a flounce and tugs Phil back toward the table. "C'mon; let's get some more wine. We can sit at another table to leave Almah and her bonny sailor boy alone, but I'm sure she'd love to show him off to you first," she says a little archly.

Glancing around the Watercress, Phil can see that the gaming tables take up too much of the available space to provide a dance floor, one of the drawbacks of the building's earlier incarnation as a warehouse. The crowd has thickened while he was playing skiffs; it appears to be equal parts human and halfling, many of the latter of which are dressed in sailors' garb. The humans who are here appear to be slightly older than the crowd at the Gold Goblin last night; their clothing and general bearing mark them as members of the working class rather than business owners or the otherwise wealthy.

As he and Ethel approach the table, Almah looks up, smiling happily. "Oh, Phillip! I'd like you to meet my ... my friend, Winthrop Squires. Win, this is Phillip Hargreaves -- he's new in town -- and of course you know Ethel."

The sailor jumps to his feet politely and offers Phillip a friendly handshake. "Right pleased to meet you, sir. Winthrop Squires, of the Deceitful Mermaid, fresh into Riddleport Harbor this evening. Miss Ethel, you look as lovely as ever." Phil notices that he has the same Chelaxian servant-class accent as the barmaid Lalie at the Publican House.

Tell me, what had you to do with children that he reprimanded you so?" As she asks the question, she glances inquiringly at the heretofore-silent member of the triumvirate.

"I had nothing to do with children," glowers Braddon. "I prefer older..." He looks at Shorafa. "I mean not older, but... I mean..."

"It would seem that Herr Bott is taking some unauthorized liberties with his employ here, as his message included a direct threat by you against Herr Vankaskerkin's son," Malkith observes, recalling the conversation from the previous night. "Perhaps you can clarify for us this seek-and-find mission he was suppose to be on. It may help alleviate some of the confusion."

Phillip plasters a smile on his face for the benefit of the lovebirds and returns the handshake offered with similar emotive intent. He does not make a comment on Winthrop's accent instead making momentary smalltalk "Recently arrived, but soon to find myself at home... It was a late time to make berth? - any trouble on the waves?"

"No, sir," Win assures him, "nothing worth speaking of. We were carrying too much sail and were surprised by a gust; the brace on the weather side parted, and the entire yard swung free. Felt the breeze of it passing over my head, I did, but the taller folk weren't as lucky. Swept Barnacle Billy right into the drink, it did, and of course we had to stop and fish him out, not to mention run a replacement line. No permanent harm done to anyone or the ship, though. We actually docked with the setting sun still gleaming off the harbor, though the city itself were in shadow, of course. Could have been here sooner, but Marce and I stopped by the Publican House for a drink on our way." He turns back to Almah. "Hope it didn't worry you unreasonably, Almah."

"Don't see why you should have had to stop for a drink," Ethel pointedly leans across the table to refill her goblet from Phil's bottle of apple wine. "There's drink enough at the Watercress."

"Why, there ain't no brew like one poured in the house of Cayden, Miss Ethel," Win reprimands her with a broad smile. "'Sides, it were right on our way up the river; seemed a shame to pass by without greeting Lalie and Mr. Rolf."

Tendal smiles at the mistress then stands and offers his hand.

"A proper greeting then. Tendal Deverin, recently of Magnimar. A pleasure to be sure." he says before sitting down once more.

"My business tonight was threefold: To make your aquaitance, so when future opportunities arise, I might have your gauge before the presentation. Second, to lend my skill to these gentlemen should the situation arise. And finally, simple curiousity. You and your establisment are spoken of...often, and I do like to see powerful women in their seat of power." Tendal smiles, tapping his cane against his leg with a nervous twitch.

"Do you indeed?" She leans back in her chair languorously and fixes Tendal with a sly smile. "You I have heard of, Mr. Deverin; your reputation precedes you." Her look of amusement fades to a more business-like expression as her gaze slides to Malkith. "One of my children didn't return at dark," she explains. "I wasn't unduly concerned -- Finian is high-spirited and full of rebellion -- but I sent Oliver out to find him and send him home. Now, tell me, why did that mission lead him to Saul Vankaskerkin's place of business -- and an elf?"

"You have children? I wouldn't have thought..." Braddon's voice trails off.
"Look, Dayn said all he did was hire a lookout and he'd speak to you when I passed on Oliver's friendly threat that you'd kill Orc. The Elf didn't strike me as the type who'd be discovered in bed with a kidnapped, drugged and-half naked child though."
Braddon attempts to wrestle the conversation back. "I think you're missing the point that we're here to complain about this crime, and if there's any complaints you have against one of Ol' St... Saul's employees, you can send Oliver round to Mr Vankaskerkin and we'll make him as welcome as we did last time." Braddon sits back and folds his arms.
"Moreso, if he doesn't bring his kidnap victims round and try to frame us for his crimes."

Chuckling and giving Ethel a squeeze round the waist at the same time to emphasize the point made "I'm no Sir Win, Phillip would do just fine... and I've never found myself too fond of the amber brew. I prefer to enjoy the depth and intensity of spirits fortified than the bulk of an ale."

"You have children? I wouldn't have thought..." Braddon's voice trails off.

"Oh, I do hope I haven't spoiled the surprise," Shorafa replies with mock concern. "You didn't still think babies grow in a cabbage patch, did you? Children are the fruit of lust. Do you think they have no place in Calistria's nest? Particularly, as you say, the 'exotics,' being, as they are, the evidence of passion that breaks the bounds of staid convention." Her eyes linger on the points of Braddon's ears and the slant of his eyes, the physical signs of his own mixed heritage.

There is, at that moment, a polite rap at the door behind the desk, just before it opens, revealing the returned halfling and Oliver Bott striding through the door past him. "Thank you, Pip," Shorafa says. "Perhaps you had better fetch Finian as well; it's nearly his bedtime, but this shouldn't take long."

As the halfling nods and closes the door again, Oliver looks from one fact to the next curiously. If anyone expected him to look sheepish or furtive, they are disappointed; he seems quite relaxed and, when he spies Tendal, breaks into a broad grin. "Dev!" he greets him. "Told you you should come visit. How'd things turn out with old Desy last night? She still got it?"

Chuckling and giving Ethel a squeeze round the waist at the same time to emphasize the point made "I'm no Sir Win, Phillip would do just fine... and I've never found myself too fond of the amber brew. I prefer to enjoy the depth and intensity of spirits fortified than the bulk of an ale."

Winthrop looks a little embarrassed. "You'll forgive me, Phil; I've spent my life at sea, and 'sir' comes out after an 'aye' by rote."

"Well, don't let us disturb you two when you're together again after such a long time," Ethel puts in brightly. "I just came to refill my glass. I'm sure Win has lots of stories to tell." Picking up her full goblet, she takes Phil by the arm and leads him to find an unoccupied table far enough away to give both couples some privacy. "Reminds me of the farm boys back home I came to Riddleport to get away from," she murmurs, "but Almah's smitten with him."

Smiling Phil allows himself to be led away with a nod and grin at the sailor and his mistress "Sir, Milady..." before responding to Ethel's murmur "Aye, those who spend their day with naught but the sea as their conversation partner tend to have their focus narrowed somewhat."

Once at their more private table, at least by way of who shares the conversation as they're still surrounded by people, Phillip slides into a seat beside Ethel but still with enough separation that they need not look sideways to meet gaze. Calling to a server for another glass of port, Phillip pulls a chip from his pocket and sets it to dance absentmindedly across his knuckles. Focusing upon Ethel alone now "Now, with the day behind and distractions aside... what consumes your thoughts Ethel."