"Tch," Lalie clucks dismissively. "I'd toss you in the Velashu, but you'd just come out dirtier." Giving Gris a final shove into a small kitchen, she follows him in, dumps the used mugs into a battered tin tub below a pump, and goes to check a kettle on the stove. "I try to keep it warm in case I need a cuppa," she explains. "Here now, prove you're not a waste of height and pull down a basin out of that cabinet up there," she directs him.
As he complies, she examines him for a moment in the light from the oil lamp. "I've seen you in here before, haven't I? Something to do with the Gas Forges?" She pours the hot water into the basin, then goes to refill it at the pump and sets the kettle back on the stove.
"Indeed, Miss Lalie, it's often enough I've a message for the Forges, as I have now. And most often, from that, that the dwarves would welcome me to their company, and I'd have rest and room to shed the trail. A rare enough honor for a man, let alone half an elf. But tonight, I'm told my contact there is discharged, and I myself am 'unreliable', and left to wonder and to wander. And I'm unpracticed at such wandering, at least of a city. Surely of such as Riddleport."
Standing with the steaming basin in hand, Gristav blinks at Lalie. "This might be all I'll need... Is there a better place to make use of it? I hadn't meant to beg the basin, just directions. Surely, a kindness, whatever the price?" Rememberingly setting down the basin, Gristav sets to fetching coins. "My name is Gristav..."
The halfling frowns his money back into his pouch. "More water than that ran past us in the river just now, and you'll be handing me the basin back when you're done unless you break it. Save your coin to buy yourself an ale when you're presentable among civilized company -- or what passes for it in the common room, anyway. Arnando's room is back there," she nods to a door standing slightly ajar; "step back there if you need some privacy. Gristav. Unusual name. Not Varisian, is it?"
"No... It's, um... It's made up, of a combination of linguistic roots... It means...", he held up his ashwood staff, "Grey staff." He cast a measuring eye from the door to Arnando's room, to the door to the tavern room, seeing no real place in the kitchen area to actually, manually, clean, not with respect to the room's purpose and to the little woman likely at any moment to have duty drive her into the room. "I believe I will get behind that door. Thank you for the water."
Behind the closed door, Gristav set to ridding himself of the magicked trail dust without magic, enough at least darken the water, while he changed garments, stowing the soiled clothing in his bag where the others had been. He dutifully paid not too much attention to Arnando's room, thinking it poor justice to use a room for privacy and invasion of privacy, all at once. He was back in the kitchen, finding a drain for the greywater, within minutes.
Tendal grins at Braddon.
"Well I guess it depends on what your goals for the evening were. Personally, I think that went quite well." he says with an airy wave.
"I don't think that we should discuss it out here however...I believe that there is some brandy waiting for us back at the Goblin. Shall we go see if we can reduce the level of the bottle?"
"I didn't really have any goals for the evening, though it would have been nice to have Malkith tell Oliver's fortune by reading his entrails. Aren't we heading to the Publican House? They might know where to find Lil."
Malkith looks skyward for a moment. "The casino is closer. We can drop Tendal off; might as well check in with Saul while we're there as well. If there are still enough hours left, we can cross the river to the Publican House. Otherwise, it'll still be there in the morning."
Behind the kitchen door, Gristav finds a short hallway terminating in a wooden stair upward. Trying the first of two doors, he finds a rather spare bedroom, containing a broad, plain bed and a small chest of drawers and little else. Using the surface of the chest as a washstand, he succeeds in his ablutions. Returning with his basin, he glances around the kitchen fruitlessly before deciding simply to pour the used water out the back door into the street.
Gristav busies himself with whatever chores he might see needing done. A floor can always be swept, after all. And there was a certain novelty to not just waving it all away.
Malkith looks skyward for a moment. "The casino is closer. We can drop Tendal off; might as well check in with Saul while we're there as well. If there are still enough hours left, we can cross the river to the Publican House. Otherwise, it'll still be there in the morning."
"Whatever."
Braddon is only too happy to follow Malkith and Tendal."So, this Lil thing? Was that what you guys were doing today?"
Just the other side of the kitchen door, Gristav had noted some cleaning utensils. Ducking back into the hallway, he finds a Medium and a Small broom, the Small version showing more signs of use. The kitchen is surprisingly clean; but some dust and debris have sifted in the open door, and there are at least the dirty bootprints he himself left behind to erase.
He has just finished brushing the sweepings out the back door after his basin-water when Lalie enters the kitchen once again. "I didn't set you to work for the privilege of not tracking mud across the floor," she scolds, rushing to take the broom out of his hand. "Go and get yourself an ale; see if Arnando's found you a bed for the night."
At the door to the bar, Gristav stops, and calls to her, "Lalie". He waits for her eyes, and says, "Thank you."
Then he goes into the bar.
The halfling scoffs away Gristav's thanks but gives him a twinkling smile as he leaves the room.
Gris steps back into the raucous common room, looking much more presentable than he first appeared. Behind the bar, Arnando Rolf catches his eye and gestures him to the end of the counter. "I take it you're not a sailor," he inquires, setting a mug in front of the half-elf. "I've a friend willing to lend you a hammock on his ship for the night if you can sleep with the waves rocking your bed."
Malkith shakes his head, "Not specifically, no. We were tracking down Volo's connections. Aside from being a zikin bi bit konfiantza gizona that even the Szcarni despised, he was madly infatuated with a mysterious woman that gave him the job to rob the casino last night. From what little I know of Lil' Scarlet, it sounds like the way she'd operate. Plus, her vendetta is as much against Saul as it is his son." He looks to his two companions as they walk, silently asking if they have any information to contribute.
"Is the rocking different on ships, than on trees? It would seem, one could hang in line with the keel...", Gristav motioned, his mind and face falling into a thoughtful mode. He shook off the reverie, pondering the sway of liquid in the mug Arnando had brought, and fished out a gold coin. At any protest from Arnando, he was resolved to insist. "I'm not a mendicant, just poorly planned. If you won't take it as payment, take it toward good works.", he might have said. "And I had meant an inn or such, though I am not above riding a hammock through the night; I've ridden a horse through the day, almost any change would be rest enough. Could more coin bring a stew, and drink for myself and my... sealord?"
Tendal smiles.
"I did nothing of the sort today. I had a very interesting day seeing the sights of the city...getting the lay of the land and the people that shape it."
"If you seek to deal with Lil Scarlet, I am interested. I did not appreciate her crude manner when I first arrived in town. Taking her down a notch will be quite satisfactory."
"Is the rocking different on ships, than on trees? It would seem, one could hang in line with the keel...", Gristav motioned, his mind and face falling into a thoughtful mode. He shook off the reverie, pondering the sway of liquid in the mug Arnando had brought, and fished out a gold coin. At any protest from Arnando, he was resolved to insist. "I'm not a mendicant, just poorly planned. If you won't take it as payment, take it toward good works.", he might have said. "And I had meant an inn or such, though I am not above riding a hammock through the night; I've ridden a horse through the day, almost any change would be rest enough. Could more coin bring a stew, and drink for myself and my... sealord?"
The cleric seems bemused at the idea that Gristav is accustomed to sleeping in a tree but makes no comment. "There's only one inn in town I could send a man to without feeling responsible for what happened to him, and that's the Mystery of the Gate. The flophouses in the Wharf District... well, you're liable either to end up sleeping at sea anyway, for longer than you'd planned, or to wake with your pockets empty. Of course, the Mystery of the Gate does its level best to empty your purse as well, only they're a little more above-board about it. Besides," he grins, jabbing his thumb up at the red letters painted over the bar, "it's owned by the Cypherlodge, and I have an allergy to putting good coin in Elias Tammerhawk's pocket."
Rolf looks down to the other end of the bar and nods to a watchful fellow in sailor's dress who responds by pointedly meeting Gristav's eye before picking up his mug and moving into the smaller room. "Meet him in the morning room, and he'll give you the details. As for stew," he shrugs apologetically, "it's after dark, and the only meals to be bought are in the Free-Coin District by order of the Overlord, but, uh," he glances to either side and lowers his voice, "I'll see if Lalie can't rustle you up something." With a wink and a nod, he slides the gold coin off the surface of the bar and moves away to serve another ale.
Gristav gentles the staff end onto Arnando to get his attention quietly. "If it turns out I've made any sort of mess in the kitchen, I'd be happy to return there to clean it up.", Gristav says levelly, sure his meaning would be taken.
Gristav heads for the morning room to meet with the sailor.
Carrying his ale, Gristav weaves through the crowd to the doorway on the far end of the bar. The smaller room is familiar to him from his visits with the dwarves, although it is far more populated this evening than he's ever seen it in the morning. Pausing on the threshold, he scans the room and sees the man he is looking for seated at a round table. All the chairs are taken, but when the man sees Gristav in the doorway, he turns and says a few quiet words to his neighbor; the sailor immediately gets up and goes to lean against the counter. Arnando's seafaring friend looks back up at Gristav and waits for him to approach the empty chair.
Meanwhile, on the east side of the Velashu, Braddon, Malkith, and Tendal arrive safely back at the Gold Goblin.
Ethel makes no immediate response to Phillip's invitation, but his question startles her into replying, pushing away just far enough to turn and look him in the face. "But ... what would I do all day? And how would I pay my share of the rent?"
Smiling as he throws one hand wide and shrugs his shoulders "What indeed... perhaps you'll need put your mind to thought and figure out what you would like to spend your day doing. At any rate I pay no rent, so there would be no imposition of payment upon you and the armchair is comfortable enough if we could not find room for the pair of us on a bed made for a human."
"Dunno nothing 'bout Lil."
Braddon saunters casually into the Goblin and meanders up to report to Saul, making sure to look around as much as possible for a remarkably pretty half-elf with tousled red curls.
Tendal lets the trio in through the back door with his key, and they find Samaritha seated on a stool in the kitchen with a cup of tea, a small book open before her. As they enter, she looks up, startled, and closes the book, slipping it beneath the counter. "Oh! It's you," she smiles when she sees them. "We never had that tea we were talking about earlier," she reminds Malkith. "Would you like a cup? Or anyone else?" she offers. "Saul and Larur are upstairs."
Gristav approaches with a nod to the man who left the chair, and a bow to the man who had it cleared. "Gristav", he says, sitting. "I appreciate your hospitality. Westcrown has it's curfew; Riddleport accomplishes the same with only one place worth going.", Gristav says wryly. "Can I provide a round for the table? And the man whose chair I've got?"
The sailor offers Gristav a hand to shake. "Josper Creesy," he introduces himself, "captain of the Flying Cloud. I'm sure my crew will be happy to take advantage of your generosity," he glances around at the rest of the table. "I understand you're in need of a place to rest your head tonight. I can offer you a hammock on the Cloud, but we set sail with the morning tide so you shouldn't expect much of a lie-in."
"That suits me exactly. I've still an errand I'm in the middle of, and happy to be back at it, when it might be done. Lack of a lie-in is no matter, Captain Creesy, and let us be sure also to make some fair allowance for your hospitality, beyond the cost of a round of drinks."
"Where are you bound?", Gristav asked, then wondered if it were an indelicate question. "Any cargo unbespoke?", he attempted explanation and recovery, and thought he'd failed at both. "I try to be aware of who is wanting what, where... If your where is a where I've the what of, I'll tell you who... is why."
Switching with a sigh to a drinking man's dialect, Gristav silently signed for Lalie, with a table-circling gesture the predicate to his gestural subject.
Some significant glances are exchanged around the table at Gristav's line of questioning before the captain replies. "No cargo this trip. It's a test run. We're still making adjustments -- which leads to another word of warning about my 'hospitality.' It's ... possible the Cloud might have some unauthorized visitors before dawn. I don't expect trouble, per se, but we've made some innovations that others have, er, expressed interest in seeing for themselves. And I'd rather they not see," he grins. "So we're drinking in shifts tonight. This lot leaves here in a while to go relieve the crewmen keeping watch on board, and you'd go back with them. I don't expect you to put yourself in any danger to protect my interests," he assures Gris, "but an extra man with a stout cudgel," he nods at the ashwood staff, "they needn't know you're not in my employ."
Smiling as he throws one hand wide and shrugs his shoulders "What indeed... perhaps you'll need put your mind to thought and figure out what you would like to spend your day doing. At any rate I pay no rent, so there would be no imposition of payment upon you and the armchair is comfortable enough if we could not find room for the pair of us on a bed made for a human."
She frowns, doubts seemingly not assuaged by Phillip's easy insouciance, but doesn't pursue the issue. "What is it you spend your day doing, Phil?" she asks, laying her head back down against his shoulder.
Phillip quietly chuckles "All and nothing and several things between... though I'd wager you wanted not riddles in response so I will tell you plainly. I have been employed by the handless one that has taken ownership of the Gold Goblin... and spend my day split between seeing to his interests and furthering my own. Today I wooed a pretty young lady, purchased coffee to salve the hurt a dwarf may have felt at finding out who I worship, engaged in verbal sparring with a merchant while laying a seed of future conflict, sought to see those that might be the breakers of legs within Riddleport and then passed out cold in my chambers... but the night is yet young and with words exchanged with Marce I may yet add one final task to the tally."
Pausing to turn to Ethel and see if his meandering explanation actually made any sense or just clouded the waters. Regardless he ploughs further onwards, smoothing his own thoughts as he speaks of them "Tomorrow may prove to hold similar excitment. Time spent with aforementioned wooed lady will prove enlightening to both and enjoyable same, there are those that walk beside but apart that really one must needs learn further of, a return to those that might be the spillers of blood and finally an exchange of banter with one who is reticent to speak. Then perhaps a storm before port and further embrace."
Gristav chuckles. "If Arnando always matches needs so well versus ability, I shall have to drink here more often. What you may have missed... I suppose, as I left it in the kitchens, is a longbow and a quiver of clothyard broadheads. They'll be on a shoulder as we go. And if it serve well, a glamourous gleam, a dim dweomer... a faint glow-", Gristav translated toward one puzzled look, "Can shroud the staff, depending on how much fang you want to show in your grin."
Drinking from his ale, thinking wistfully of what the kitchens might hold beyond his bags and quiver, Gristav continued, "Not much for greater magics, I'm afraid. I have such, but they were spent in the day's business."
"What more, if any, can you share of what's expected? Because you can't ever know you should have asked, until it's too late, and you haven't." Gristav smiles.
"Expected?" he considers. "Nothing blatantly aggressive. We pay our share to the Overlord for protection; no one would dare board us openly in his own harbor. Wouldn't be surprised if someone tried to sneak on board and slip belowdecks for a quick peek, though. We aim to be the fastest ship in the Gulf, and there's plenty who could profit from a glance at our refinements, both captains and wrights."
Lalie approaches the table with a tray of ales; glancing up, Gristav can see the man whose chair he took with a fresh mug of his own. "Here you go, lads, courtesy of your new acquantance." She sets two tankards in front of Gris, one open and full of ale, the other a closed stein. "That'un's a mite substantial," she warns him significantly before returning toward the kitchen.
The closed stein, unlike the mugs of ale, seems to radiate heat as Gristav reaches toward it. Flipping up the hinged cover, he finds it to contain a hearty fish stew, the stem of a wooden spoon visible protruding above the surface of the broth.
Ethel listens to Phil with a gentle frown and a touch of a nonplussed smile. "You mean you spend the day talking and shopping and get paid to do it? Breakers of legs? That would be the half-orcs, wouldn't it? Boss Croat handles debt collections in Riddleport and the 'persuasion' that goes along with it. What does any of this business have to do with Marce?" She glances back out at the knot around the skiffs table.
Phillip nods in assent of Ethel's relatively bland description of his day "That is about the measure of it to date... though results of one kind or another will need to be generated in time for the engagement to continue. Marce has a chance to further both his own ideals and mine in pursuit of that. The Lord Mayor has the ear of many of our kind... and the ears of halflings overhear many things, especially those which those who have longer legs might not expect them to. If he is willing to join the dance, then information he brings to me might yield gold to him from the handless."
"As to the leg breakers, it was at the Arena... I met with a trainer and hope to meet the stable thereafter. I am a thief in a city of thieves... it pays to know the faces of those that might come for me with blade drawn and bloody mind."
Tendal lets the trio in through the back door with his key, and they find Samaritha seated on a stool in the kitchen with a cup of tea, a small book open before her. As they enter, she looks up, startled, and closes the book, slipping it beneath the counter. "Oh! It's you," she smiles when she sees them. "We never had that tea we were talking about earlier," she reminds Malkith. "Would you like a cup? Or anyone else?" she offers. "Saul and Larur are upstairs."
Braddon looks physically pained at the choice before him, but curiosity quickly overcomes him. He sits down next to Samaritha.
"Tea please. What have you been doing this evening?"As soon as she turns to get a cup or some tea, he pulls out her book and peers inside it.
Before he can respond, Braddon is already sitting next to Samaritha. He smiles warmly at her, "Thank you, but there is business that I should speak with Saul of first. Perhaps if there is time later in the evening? With a slightly more sorrowful smile, he excuses himself and heads upstairs to find his employer.
Malkith finds Saul right where he expected. Standing before the casino owner, he retells the his encounter with Shorafa. "I'll let the others apprise you of the situation with Herr Bott, but your complaint was received. At the moment, I'm more concerned with Lil' Scarlet. The methods employed to lure Volo into robbing you and her motivations for revenge make her a the most likely culprit at the moment. Braddon and I were going to head over to the Publican House to see if we couldn't track her down."
"I could bring some tea upstairs if you like," Samaritha offers as Malkith climb the stairs, giving Braddon an opportunity to snatch out the book she was perusing. It appears to be written in no language with which he is familiar, mysterious lines and crosses writ in a dark and forceful ink filling most of the page, with smaller, more hasty jottings and diagrams in spare corners and margins. He has had time only to glance at a few pages before Samaritha snatches it back, a little flustered. "It's a spellbook," she explains, setting it an arm's-length behind her on the table, well out of Braddon's reach unless he makes a point of getting up and going after it, before pouring him a cup of tea. "I really oughtn't to be looking at it in the kitchen, but the main floor's such a mess and I didn't want to go shut myself in my room and miss the excitement when everyone came back." She smiles at him. "I suppose you only like tea if it tastes like ale?"
Phillip nods in assent of Ethel's relatively bland description of his day "That is about the measure of it to date... though results of one kind or another will need to be generated in time for the engagement to continue. Marce has a chance to further both his own ideals and mine in pursuit of that. The Lord Mayor has the ear of many of our kind... and the ears of halflings overhear many things, especially those which those who have longer legs might not expect them to. If he is willing to join the dance, then information he brings to me might yield gold to him from the handless."
"As to the leg breakers, it was at the Arena... I met with a trainer and hope to meet the stable thereafter. I am a thief in a city of thieves... it pays to know the faces of those that might come for me with blade drawn and bloody mind."
"I see," Ethel sighs pensively. "And a girl working in a dress shop doesn't overhear anything of any use to you, just complaints about the price of a dozen eggs and whose children are more ungrateful than whose," she concludes
Malkith finds Saul right where he expected. Standing before the casino owner, he retells the his encounter with Shorafa. "I'll let the others apprise you of the situation with Herr Bott, but your complaint was received. At the moment, I'm more concerned with Lil' Scarlet. The methods employed to lure Volo into robbing you and her motivations for revenge make her the most likely culprit at the moment. Braddon and I were going to head over to the Publican House to see if we couldn't track her down."
Saul looks troubled. "I've never heard of any connection between Lil and the Sczarni. But yes, I've heard that Lil spends some time at the Publican, one of the few safe places for her outside of Shorafa's nest. Arnando Rolf can afford her some protection from Zincher's men, and, well, you can imagine what he gets for his altruism."
"Expected?" he considers. "Nothing blatantly aggressive. We pay our share to the Overlord for protection; no one would dare board us openly in his own harbor. Wouldn't be surprised if someone tried to sneak on board and slip belowdecks for a quick peek, though. We aim to be the fastest ship in the Gulf, and there's plenty who could profit from a glance at our refinements, both captains and wrights."
"We've more in common than I'd thought. I've claimed to be the fastest rider of short but growing distances, making some of my coin for the speed of it. I see well the value, not in a cargo a day early, but in news, a day before others know. That value will keep you in watches, Captain, just as it will keep you in Ale. And out of port, I would suppose."
Lalie approaches the table with a tray of ales; glancing up, Gristav can see the man whose chair he took with a fresh mug of his own. "Here you go, lads, courtesy of your new acquantance." She sets two tankards in front of Gris, one open and full of ale, the other a closed stein. "That'un's a mite substantial," she warns him significantly before returning toward the kitchen.
The closed stein, unlike the mugs of ale, seems to radiate heat as Gristav reaches toward it. Flipping up the hinged cover, he finds it to contain a hearty fish stew, the stem of a wooden spoon visible protruding above the surface of the broth.
Gristav's eyes soften as he considers the stein and it's contents. "Now here is a kindness worth mentioning. Coin-twisting laws make this a place that doesn't serve food. So there's no great vat to give me a ladle of. But speak of the empty belly of a day's fast ride, and here's a part... What must be a portion of their own planned dinner. Served from their plate, it may as well be."
Gristav lifts his ale. "To more of such folk. And less of such laws."
Braddon returns Samaritha's smile.
"Tea? I like tea. I just like ale more. But I'll be happy with tea. I'll even help you bring it upstairs." He gets up and rummages around for cups.
Braddon does not pursue Samaritha's spellbook any further.
"Spellbook? Wow. I've never seen one before. Sorry for grabbing. I didn't know it was magical. How does it work? Can anyone do it? What kind of mage are you? What magics can you cast? Apart from flavoring drinks?" Braddon winks.
"There's not much excitement to tell really about our little visit. Shorafa called in Oliver and he said a bunch of girls had given him Ananda. And she sent him out again and reckoned what happens to him is General Mescher's business. She seems pretty dumb to me. I mean, of course Bott's involved. He even admitted he knew some of the girls. I think Mescher should put a price on his head. There's a bounty I wouldn't mind collecting." Braddon gazes wistfully at Samaritha.
"I see," Ethel sighs pensively. "And a girl working in a dress shop doesn't overhear anything of any use to you, just complaints about the price of a dozen eggs and whose children are more ungrateful than whose," she concludes
"That may have been milady, but it is you who can choose what cloth you wish to be cut from as the night passes and the dawn tomorrow brings for you a new beginning." trying to raise Ethel's spirits somewhat "Think less... feel more and follow those urgings where they might lead you."
As a game of skiffs draws to a close and Marce's attention is freed for a few moments, Phil turns to Ethel "It would seem opportune that those words with Marce can be exchanged. By all means come if your fancy is tickled, otherwise I would return anon." giving her a quick squeeze before standing and moving over to Marce. Phillip smooths his mustache and runs hands through his hair as he readies his mind for the coming fray.
Sidling up to Marce he opens "Have the waters been kind tonight? - or do they break ill for you?"
Ethel demurs, and Phil leaves her behind at the table, still looking pensive.
Sidling up to Marce he opens "Have the waters been kind tonight? - or do they break ill for you?"
The other halfling looks pleased. "Besmara's on my side tonight," he jokes, patting a pocket that rattles with chips. "If they'd only sail onto the lake in the Watercress, I could take on the whole Chelish navy."
After parting with Ethel Phil does not turn to regard and check her demeanor alone, instead trusting to the fate of intent as best he could ken it. If she's to take flight it must be her to jump from the nest... I'll not be there to push her or hold her hand.
Smiling at Marce "Surely a lake of Rahadoumi trade ships would prove more profitable no? Though now your thirst for coin is whet I've a means to speak that might engender further drinking at that font. The steps I mentioned when last we met have been climbed and I stand now an agent with the interests of a handless man at heart." pausing a moment to make sure that Marce has followed along... for surely if the obfuscation was too thick at this point it would only deepen his confusion to follow.
Continuing precisely and gamely on "As your legs walk your ears are opened to many voices... and not all in Riddleport speak with forked and clouded tongues. My employer is perched atop a tenuous tower... and would part with coin to discover anything of note from those that would seek to topple it." licking his lips and running one hand through his hair to smooth it "From voices to your ears to mine would run the words; and from handless to my hand to your pocket would flow the reward. My employer need not know from who the whispers came, but will pay regardless if information prove useful."
Marce's expression turns more serious as the conversation is steered to business. He listens soberly to Phillip's proposal and ruminates silently for a moment when he has done. "So you're asking me to deliver word of any threat against Vankaskerkin and his interests? I wouldn't do it for the man himself, but if you've signed on with him, your success and safety depends on his. I hope you'll believe I'd get word to you of any plots I was aware of against your place of business with or without the prospect of payment."
"Spellbook? Wow. I've never seen one before. Sorry for grabbing. I didn't know it was magical. How does it work? Can anyone do it? What kind of mage are you? What magics can you cast? Apart from flavoring drinks?" Braddon winks.
"Not just anyone," she tries to answer his flow of questions. "You have to study first before you can even read the notation, and to cast the most powerful spells, you have to be really, really smart. At the highest levels, a single spell can go on and on for pages, but you can alter reality itself if you can master them. I'm ... not really much of a mage at all," she falters humbly. "I mean, my teacher is a simple traveling wizard, so I've learned the basic utility spells but nothing really impressive. Not like Mr. Deverin, with a tutor from Absalom. He's learned spells I've never even heard of. I'll bet he'd easily win access to the Cypherlodge if he sought membership."
She has put together a tray with a teapot and several cups and saucers while she's been speaking. "Would you wait for me just a moment, and we'll go up together? Let me just go put this book away safely." She picks up the spellbook and pushes through the swinging doors to take the book to her room. Within only a few minutes, she has returned and smiles at Braddon. "Ready?"
"There's not much excitement to tell really about our little visit. Shorafa called in Oliver and he said a bunch of girls had given him Ananda. And she sent him out again and reckoned what happens to him is General Mescher's business. She seems pretty dumb to me. I mean, of course Bott's involved. He even admitted he knew some of the girls. I think Mescher should put a price on his head. There's a bounty I wouldn't mind collecting." Braddon gazes wistfully at Samaritha.
"I don't think you should underestimate Shorafa," Samaritha advises a bit doubtfully as they climb the stairs. "She may be many things, but she didn't get to where she is by being unintelligent. Outside of Maskyr's Island, they say she and Elias Tammerhawk -- he's the leader of the Cypherlodge -- are the most powerful people in Riddleport."
Gristav lifts his ale. "To more of such folk. And less of such laws."
"Aye, I'll drink to that," Captain Creesy accedes with a grin, raising his own mug before taking a swallow. "I've told Arnando more than once that if any tavern in Varisia deserves to be patronized by the Lucky Drunk himself, it's this one. I'm not a native, but speaking as a frequent visitor, it's a comfort to have a place to drink where the ale's neither watered nor spiked. Drink up your dinner, friend, and we'll make for the Cloud and a hammock to rock you to sleep."
"So you're asking me to deliver word of any threat against Vankaskerkin and his interests?"
"Both more and less - I'm offering you the opportunity to leverage that which costs you nothing into coin to further whatever good works you see fit. When we parted at the Gold Goblin you would look with favor onto any scheme that might help further the interests of halflings... this is that endeavor." Closing an opened hand to a fist as he speaks "For news of worth your hand could close around gold and each digit be not crowded with another upon a coin."
Hoping that words have swayed Marce to interest Phil continues "Do nothing for me out of charity... do it for yourself... and the others that might benefit." wafting a hand to paint the shorter side of the casino with it's passage.
"You have to study first before you can even read the notation, and to cast the most powerful spells, you have to be really, really smart. At the highest levels, a single spell can go on and on for pages, but you can alter reality itself if you can master them. I'm ... not really much of a mage at all," she falters humbly. "I mean, my teacher is a simple traveling wizard, so I've learned the basic utility spells but nothing really impressive. Not like Mr. Deverin, with a tutor from Absalom. He's learned spells I've never even heard of. I'll bet he'd easily win access to the Cypherlodge if he sought membership."
"But you are really, really smart," Braddon chimes in. "I mean, you talk the local language as well as the common tongue, you read magic and if you speak Elvish that's at least four languages. And you know stuff about the cyphermages and you do shape reality, even if it's just flavouring drinks. I know you can do stuff more powerful than that. And I reckon a travelling wizard who's been all over would know more than some stupid tutor from Absolom who never went outside. I'll bet Mister Fancy only knows spells you've never heard of because he's making it up."
Braddon easily balances the tray on one hand and makes his way smoothly up the steps, still chatting to Samaritha. "Well, Shorafa doesn't seem that powerful if she can't keep her people in line. I mean, she admitted to us that Scarlet Lil wants to destroy Saul and may have convinced Volo to attack last night. And she's like," Braddon goes into a falsetto voice, "oh, I didn't back her claim, but she's... passionate!"
Braddon opens the door for Samaritha with his free hand. "And she's like, 'If you bring proof he was working for her, maybe I shall listen to you.' As if. The idiot was enslaved by her charms. Now me... I'd never be a patsy for a pretty face. Where do you want me to put this down? Shall I pour you another cup of tea?"
Malkith shakes his head at Saul, "Volo was hardly viewed favorably, even by the Sczarni. I suspect he was just a convenient peoia for Lil Scarlet - somebody no one would miss if the robbery went wrong.
"It sounds like she lives up to the reputation of her heritage. What's Zincher's issue with Lil Scarlet? Do you know of any other places which we might find her?"
Malkith turns towards the door as it opens. He smiles when he sees Samaritha. "Thank you." he addresses her, even as he takes one of the cups from Braddon.
"Yes, Captain, let us not delay the change of watch."