Samaritha's eyes light up when she spies the "Hiring within" sign. Touching Malkith's arm, she nods to the room on the right. "This is as far as I need to go. I'm not looking for a private audience with the owner, just a job for the evening. What about you?" Her eyes include Braddon in her question.
Braddon looks to Samaritha, then back to the door marked "Owner" and grins.
"I'm going to see if I can get hired for more than just a night. Do you want to come in too? Or will you see me later?"Braddon then follows through the end door last, standing at the back of the room just beside the doorway.
Turning to Sarien and said in a partly serious voice Phillip muses "Let us try one more time to see if we can force reasonable passage... or perhaps we should just swim."
Keeping his voice low, Sarien says, "I suspect we should expect to be cheated at every opportunity. So long as the only loss is to our coin as opposed to our necks, I will consider it a bargain."
He raises a hand in greeting the old fellow that Phillip calls to, presenting his best smile.
Moving to approach the thin and grizzled Phillip raises a hand and asks "Ho boatman, do you ply the waters today?"
The man looks up sharply when he is hailed. He is indeed an elderly man, with perhaps as many as 50 years behind him; his frame, once powerful, now appears to have fallen in on itself like an old cottage, but he is still strong enough to handle the long wooden pole with which he seems to be probing the riverbed.
"What does it look like?" he calls back across the water. "I'm home sleeping off a night of carousing with two exhausted whores in my bed?" His rasping chuckle turns into a cough midway, but his lingering smile says he is still enjoying the image. His pole seems to find what it was probing for, as he suddenly returns his attention to the water and hauls it up, arm over arm. The end of the pole, when it is revealed, is a brass hook, and he has used it to haul up a wooden lath box, some kind of fish trap.
Braddon looks to Samaritha, then back to the door marked "Owner" and grins.
"I'm going to see if I can get hired for more than just a night. Do you want to come in too? Or will you see me later?"
She smiles. "I'll see you later. I'm still hoping to get a permanent position at the Cypherlodge. But good luck!" She waits for Malkith's decision.
"Thank you Liry. You have been most helpful. Could you do me one last favor. It is typically impolite for a stranger to simply barge in on someone. Do you mind introducing me to Vankaskerkin?" Tendal asks, motioning to the door.
"Well, sure, I will," Liry nudges him with a playful elbow to imply he's a chump if he thought she wasn't going to see this through. "But, you know ... I don't know your name, myself. How should I introduce you?"
Malkith looks to Braddon and then to Samaritha, "He has a point. There's no telling how long it will take for the Cyphermages to appoint you to a position within their lodge. It might be prudent to find work that will last longer than a single evening. Besides, speaking to Vankaskerkin may get you a position that pays better than arranging the furniture.
"We must all make our own path, of course. While your continued company would be most welcomed, I do also know our paths will cross again," Malkith smiles knowingly, "I still owe you a harrow reading, after all."
To Sarien "Aye, but I always trust to hope until proven naive. If even but one in ten proves useful then it is a venture well made."
To the old one Phillip doesn't seek to engage the playful side of his nature and simply asks "We need to make for the River District... would you be willing to bear us across the river?"
"River District?" he cackles. "You're standing in it. Runs both sides the Velashu." He doesn't look up as he speaks, instead lifting the fish trap into the boat and opening it. He pulls out a few small flipping fish and a tiny crab and tosses them in a sack but seems more interested in combing through the mud and sludge that has collected in the bottom of the trap, letting it run through his fingers as he digs through it. He tosses out a few small rocks and shells and then sighs. "Every now and again," he explains as he closes the trap and prepares to lower it back down to the riverbed, "some panicked lubber doesn't do a good job of emptying the pockets of whatever body he's hiding in the river for the fish to disappear, and a stray coin washes in. Fish'll feed me for the day, but coin you can drink," he proclaims with a rapt look on his face before returning his attention to Phillip and his request. "What's your business on the other bank?"
Phillip watches and listens as the man sifts through his sludge for lost coins and thinks of the whys that led to his journey to Riddleport. However he does not think the boatman a kindred spirit, and neither is his pity awakened. "Our business is our own... and you've not answered my question"
Sarien grins. "We simply wish to be on the other side. If it's coin you want, it's coin we can provide, especially once we're over there."
The man's interest seems to be awakened by Sarien's promise of coin, but he still hesitates. "Boat's small. I'd have to take you one at a time. And you each pay what you'd pay the ferryman: 2 copper a head."
Phillip nods his assent "Done" gesturing for Sarien to go first if he wishes.
The deal struck, the man eagerly leaps into motion. Resting his long, hooked pole across the floor of the boat, he hauls up a rope hanging over the side. His stringy muscles tighten as he works, and he finally draws up a heavy iron grapple that has kept the boat anchored as he fished for his trap. It begins to spin downstream, but he quickly sits down on the plant stretched across the stern and pulls at the oars, bringing his boat almost aground against the western bank. He drives his oar expertly down into the mud to keep the boat relatively still as Sarien steps in, then shoves off again, letting the sluggish current do most of the work of bringing them to bump against the piling of the pier on the opposite side of the river. He tosses his grapple around the post to anchor the boat so his passenger can disembark. "Your coin," he prompts Sarien warily with an outstretched palm before the other man can step up and out of the boat. "Won't have you scarpering while I'm fetching your mate."
Malkith looks to Braddon and then to Samaritha, "He has a point. There's no telling how long it will take for the Cyphermages to appoint you to a position within their lodge. It might be prudent to find work that will last longer than a single evening. Besides, speaking to Vankaskerkin may get you a position that pays better than arranging the furniture.
"We must all make our own path, of course. While your continued company would be most welcomed, I do also know our paths will cross again," Malkith smiles knowingly, "I still owe you a harrow reading, after all."
Samaritha hesitates but then shakes her head. "I haven't much to offer an employer, unless he wants me to do arcane research, and from what I've heard, Saul Vankaskerkin's interests don't lie that way. He'd as soon chip off pieces of the Cyphergate to sell to tourists as study it. But if you make a good impression on the owner, maybe you can recommend me." She smiles and gives a small wave to Braddon and Malkith before stepping through the door with the hiring notice.
"Ah. Yes. I am sorry Liry for not presenting myself appropriately. Liry, I am Tendal Deverin of Magnimar. I am pleased to meet you." Tendal says, very seriously taking Liry's hand and giving a little bow over it.
Clearly unimpressed and disappointed by Liry completely ignoring his grand gesture, all her attention focused on the dandy, Dayn stands, his expression no longer so jovial 'So that's the way of it in the city eh? Simply need to flash a bit of coin to get the attention of the girls? Well, at least now I now.'
His interest in the costumed money-grubber faded to almost nil, he stands and waits for the pair to go into the office first, following them once they do.
Liry appears both flattered and amused by Tendal's formal introduction; when Daynadrian follows up with his own bow, she laughs, "Well, you boys surely put the grog-blossoms around here to shame! Are you from Magnimar, too?" she asks the elf. "Because if so, I'll have to revise my opinion of bridge monkeys."
She opens the door to reveal a markedly more luxurious chamber than the utilitarian rooms without. Two somewhat-worn but still very comfortable-looking plush couches face each other across a long, low table. A fireplace in the northern wall is bare and swept clean at this time of year but still gives off a hint of warmth; it undoubtedly shares a chimney with the stove in the kitchen below.
Liry crosses to a door directly across from the one by which she just entered and raps on the wooden surface. "Boss? You've got a visitor. Here on personal business." She waves cheerily back at Tendal to approach. "Mr. Tendal Deverin, gentleman, from Magnimar."
"Eh? What's that?" A voice sounds back irascibly from behind the door. "Don't know the name. What's he want? What's his business with me?"
Liry looks at the rest of the party and shrugs, gesturing to them to provide some sort of information or argument to persuade Saul to open the door.
Sarien nods and hands over 3 copper. "And a little extra for doing such a sure job of it too. My thanks."
Grinning with pleasure at Liry's reaction to his bow, Dayn stands and says with mock horror "No ma'am! No indeed! I sure ain't from the same place as him. No, I'm from a tiny, boring, little place you probably never heard of, called Crying Leaf. Gives us lots of time to learn all about how to make a lady happy though." he finishes with a wink.
As they move into Saul's office, as Liry gestures at the door and shrugs, Dayn does not hesitate for a second and steps right up to it saying "Hello Mr.Vankaskerkin, my name's Daynadrian Nirgassan, and I don't know about no gentleman, as such, from Magnimar or wherever, but I do know you've got yourself a bunch of very..." he glances at the group behind him "... competent looking types gathered here looking for work. But if you're too busy, no bother, as I hear there's another nice casino on the other side of town we can head to and offer our services."
Sarien nods and hands over 3 copper. "And a little extra for doing such a sure job of it too. My thanks."
The boatman turns the coins over in his hands a little suspiciously, examining them to be sure they're not counterfeit, then grins as he clears Sarien's way to shore. "Thank ye kindly," he nods. Once Sarien is safely on the dock, the fisherman turns the boat around and repeats the process to bring Phillip aboard and deposit him on the opposite bank. If anything, he is a little more alacritous now that the coin has appeared, good as promised.
Tendal nearly growls at the closed door.
Shouting through the door like a common street-barker, what is next? Is nobody in this town civilized? Tendal's jaw starts to ache and realizes he is grinding his teeth.
"Sir, I would prefer that you open the door so we can converse like gentlemen in private. Although I was completely unaware of this, the matter is of some delicacy, and a...person...by the name of Lil Scarlet has already taken an interest, so I suggest that you do as well." Tendal responds in a taught voice.
'Lil Scarlet' seems to be the magic word. After only a few seconds, the sound of footsteps crossing the inner room can be heard, and the door is opened by a massive and dour man, who rivals Gord of the Riddleport Gords in both size and friendly demeanor. A grunt and a jerk of his head serve as invitation into the inner sanctum.
As much more comfortable as the waiting area was to the bare, wooden corridor outside, Saul Vankaskerkin's office is to the waiting area. The floor is covered in an intricately-designed carpet, and the wall are hung with paintings. A massive desk covered with various boxes, chests, papers, and small objets d'art takes up most of the southern half of the room, and three upholstered chairs are arrayed in front of it, one of which is already occupied by a dwarf with a large bald spot and a heavy brown beard. When he sees how many people are arrayed in the waiting area, he wordlessly vacates the chair and stands behind it, his arms folded.
Behind the desk, in a huge, tall-backed chair covered in an exotic animal hide, an inky blue in coloration, sits a small, nervous-looking Chelaxian man with a short, neatly-trimmed beard and a receding hairline. "What ... what's all this about Lil Scarlet?" he asks.
As the door opens, Tendal turns to Liry. "Thank you again. I will be certain to mention your assistance and professionalism to Vankaskerkin."
Tendal ignores the guard as if he was merely a part of the furniture and strides into the room, cane clasped lightly in his hand, his eyes sweeping across the expensive bric-a-brac.
Money and taste never seem to go easily together...
Tendal crosses the room to stand before the desk, firmly planting the end of his cane with a soft thump on the carpet. "Good morning sir. I am Tendal Deverin, House Deverin, of Magnimar. While I am pleased to make your aquaintance, I am loathe to relate my news in the company of those who you do not have the utmost faith in. I can only vouchsafe for my own person in this matter." Tendal says as he extracts Orik's letter from an interior coat pocket.
Since no one importance or influence to Dayn has not as yet has said anything to indicate he should not be in the room, Dayn strides in behind Tendal, stands beside him and, with arms folded across his chest says "And myself, and the rest of these fine folk here I believe, are here to look for work. I can only speak for myself, but from what I understand, you've got some stiff and unfriendly competition. If you want your opening night to go off without a hitch, you'll be wanting some skilled and talented specialists to keep a close eye on your investment here. As well, being a newcomer in town means that I'm not likely to have any alliances one way or another. After all, as you likely know, Elves are known for their loyalty."
Tendal immediately stuffs the letter back into his coat, eyeing Dayn warily.
Phillip draws out a pair of copper coins and flicks them to the boatman when deposited safely upon the other side. "My thanks good man, and enjoy what drink that will buy." before making a mental note of the gent's face in case of any further requirement in the future.
To Sarien he muses as they begin to put some ground between the river and their backs "Hopefully we do not find all streets and rivers so treacherous to cross... lest we be destitute before we reach the fabled Gold Goblin. What plan have you once you get there? Do you seek work as the others who left before us?" conversationally and clearly seeking confirmation of the others plans before he makes his own known.
Braddon gives a slight nod to the brute who opened the door and takes up a position opposite him, face grim, arms crossed, professional demeanor. Braddon lets his eyes drift around the room as if looking for threats, taking in everything and lingering briefly on the dwarf.
Sarien nods. "We got remarkably fortunate with the old-timer."
He shrugs at the inquiry regarding his plans. "I'm uncertain as yet. If the rest of that crew are seeking employment there and actually get hired, I'm unsure I'd want to work beside them. Perhaps I'll just offer some coins to Desna and see what blessings she allows." He glances over at the halfling. "And you?"
In his office in the Gold Goblin, Saul looks from Tendal to Daynadrian to the way Tendal quickly returns the letter to his pocket when the others enter the room. "Right," he announces. "Larur, will you take the, er, 'competent types looking for work' out into the waiting area for a moment? If you gentlemen will just follow my floor manager...."
The dwarf doesn't budge, holding his ground with an angry glare. "Now, Larur, this has nothing to do with the casino," Saul placates. "I believe Mr. Deverin's business with me is ... of a personal nature." He shoots Tendal a nervous glance.
Grudgingly, the dwarf begins to move, his gaze lingering on Saul suspiciously. "That's right," Saul smiles. "I assure you gentlemen, Mr. Felden has full authority to hire for the casino, if you can impress him with our need for your, er, skills."
Larur Felden relocates to the waiting area, standing grimly in front of the empty fireplace and eyeing Malkith while waiting for Braddon and Daynadrian. When the room has emptied, save for Tendal and Saul, the large doorman shuts the door and takes up a position over his employer's right shoulder, his relative size dwarfing even the oversized chair. He fixes his gaze fiercely on Tendal across the desk, axes hanging prominently at either hip.
"Don't worry about Bojasc," Saul assures Tendal dismissively, nodding him to a chair. "He's my personal bodyguard, and I trust him implicitly. Now what's all this about Lil Scarlet?"
Phillip shrugs "I'd be careful to lay down in anyone's bed until I've seen their house in action. From the talk in the Publican House it would seem that tonight will be a gala of some spectacle... new to town as we are it should be enlightening no?"
As the group of interlopers pile into Saul's office, Malkith hangs back. It's clear that the dandy from Magnimar has business with the casino owner that involves matters other than employment. Content to wait his turn, the Varisian lingers for a moment in the waiting room before the majority of those who entered return.
Phillip and Sarien walk off the pier into a largely abandoned street. To the south can be heard the bustle of the wharves, but the Gold Goblin is in the River District so to turn down that way to ask for directions would be taking them away from their goal. They finally spy a man pushing a handcart who seems gainfully employed and thus, hopefully, reliable.
"Gold Goblin?" he asks. "That's where I'm headed. It's not open for business until tonight, but you're welcome to walk with me." Despite his friendly words, he takes care that the dagger at his belt is fully visible in case the strangers have the idea of mugging him. The trio, unlike the first party, approach from the south, so the full courtyard, with the golden statue holding court, is in view as they walk up the street.
"Allow me to start at the beginning." Tendal says, again pulling the letter from his coat and offering it to Saul across the desk.
"I bring greetings from your son, Orik. I was in Sandpoint with him for several months, taking in the country airs and spending some time with my auntie, the mayor. Orik was an excellent companion and I can say, quite rightly, an honest gentleman. From what I was able to observe, the glassworks that he is running in Sandpoint is doing quite well. I am not certain what sort of margins he was running, but from personal knowledge in Magnimar he had quite cornered the market for everyday cut crystal for those of certain means. I remember that we had bought and shipped some of his wares on the family ships to points south and turned a tidy profit, so they must be of rather decent quality. All in all, I am certain that you would be proud of his accomplishments."
Spying a decanter on the sideboard, Tendal jaunts over, pours himself a glass of wine and drinks before continuing.
"Unlike Orik, I was not able to keep myself engaged in Sandpoint. Orik had his work, I however exhausted all options within a few months. Orik hit upon the idea that I should come north and put myself in your service. With some convincing, my auntie allowed me to depart. I arrived this morning by caravan and per Orik's direction proceeded to the Publican house to find someone who could give me directions to your domicile. I had been assured that I would not be led astray by the barkeep, Arnando. However, Orik was gravely mistaken. Arnando, that scutpot, directed me to talk to Lil Scarlet, intimating that she would be able to aid me."
"Mind you, Orik said nothing of what had sent him to Sandpoint. I had assumed that it was just business acumen and wanderlust. So when interrogated by Lil, I innocently told her that he was both alive and well, and living in Sandpoint."
Tendal pauses and refils his glass.
"From her mannerisms, I assumed that she was a lost love. I found out shortly after that Orik was engaged in a love triangle with a disasterous outcome, and that Lil was interested in ensuring that "Old Stumpy" got the message that Orik is still alive. I do not belive that she has Orik's best interests in mind however."
"In any regard, I do not know the lay of the land yet, though I am quickly finding enemies and allies. I offer my services to you: arcane, intellectual and entreprenurial, in return for room and board, and the opportunity to bend your ear if any opportunities for investment arise. As for my family, I will send message to them that I am in Riddleport when the next ship arrives, but I must intimate to you that I do not have direct access to any funds, so do not expect any fiscal relief from that quarter if you take me into your service."
Shrugging his shoulders, Dayn leaves with a smile. Truth was, he wasn't that eager or anxious for employment. Sure, he'd have to work at some point, but he knew that, with frugal application, his stash of gold should last him for a little while. Of course, he wasn't known for his frugality...but that was another matter. Mainly, he'd just wanted to put a burr under the dandy's saddle.
Feeling relaxed, he plops down on the couch, eyes the dwarf and says "So? It appears your the man to speak with regarding work? Well, tell us what needs you have, and I'll let you know how best my skills might help you solve them. And if we can come to a fair financial arrangement, then I think we'll all be the happier."
Braddon remains in position until Tendal gives him a word or gesture, then responds to him instantly.
"Yes, sir! I'll be just outside if you need me."
He marches outside the door and stands guard against it. This also places him in a prime position for eavesdropping.
Saul's eyes go back and forth from the letter Tendal has handed him to the man himself as he explains his story. When he has finished, Saul tosses the letter down on the desk in front of him. "'An honest gentleman,' eh?" he muses. "Sounds like the boy's done well for himself. So," he glances up at Bojasc and nods across to the sideboard, and the large man moves sullenly across the room to pour a glass, "Lil Scarlet knows that Orik didn't find a watery grave with a knife in his back. That's ... unfortunate. Could stir up some unpleasantness that's been buried a while. Still, word's out. Can't look like I've anything to cover up." Bojasc sets the full glass on the desk on his way back to his position behind the chair, and Saul lifts it and takes a thoughtful sip. "This could work to our advantage if the rumor spreads quick enough. There'll be people who will show up tonight just to see what Old Stumpy will do now. If I make the announcement myself at the opening...." He seems suddenly to remember that Tendal is in the room. "Don't worry about it, lad. Orik's in a secure place, or he wouldn't have sent word back to Riddleport. A successful businessman socializing with the mayor's family! I'd like to see Zincher go after him now. What's important is, I was shocked -- shocked! -- to discover he was safe and sound. Shed a few manly tears, thanked Desna aloud, that sort of thing. I swore up and down I was as in the dark as anyone else when he left. No point dredging up any ... repercussions, you get my meaning?"
"I understand quite well, and will of course play my part. I can easily play the role of the messenger bringing word of the son who was presumed dead and now doing well for himself in a distant town. You could suggest that he survived the attack and washed up in Sandpoint if you want, that might fit well with your "knowledge" of the attack on your son. I have no knowledge of the letter's contents, and I suggest burning it so you can control the message as you wish, just use any old letter as your prop."
"It is a very...heroic story."
Tendal pauses and drinks his wine while he thinks for a moment.
"I suggest you make certain that the story spreads. I can recommend a young lady by the name of Liry who might take to some creative rumor spreading...well once you divest her of her costume horns."
Feeling relaxed, he plops down on the couch, eyes the dwarf and says "So? It appears your the man to speak with regarding work? Well, tell us what needs you have, and I'll let you know how best my skills might help you solve them. And if we can come to a fair financial arrangement, then I think we'll all be the happier."
The dwarf fixes Daynadrian with the same angry glare he bestowed on Saul Vankaskerkin. "My needs?" he begins, and the sound of his voice is so startling it is difficult to pay attention to his actual words. Like so many of his race, Larur Felden is broad-shouldered and barrel-chested, and the russet brown of his beard bespeaks that he is in the prime of his life. His voice should be a great, booming thing, able to rattle the floorboards with its profundity. Instead, it comes out as a labored wheeze, barely more than a hoarse whisper. "My needs? I need to know why my partner seems hellbent on provoking every crimelord in this town, with his silly costumes and his half-orc hirelings! It's not enough we're stepping on the Overlord's toes and Cleg Zincher hates both of our guts. I need to know why he's spending so much of our money on his harebrained theme night! A casino's about drinking and gambling, not playing dress-up; you'd think we were producing a damned Chelish opera!" His complaints are ended by a hacking cough that seems to steal what voice he has; he pulls a handkerchief spotted with blood from his pocket to cover his mouth until the bout is over.
"I understand quite well, and will of course play my part. I can easily play the role of the messenger bringing word of the son who was presumed dead and now doing well for himself in a distant town. You could suggest that he survived the attack and washed up in Sandpoint if you want, that might fit well with your "knowledge" of the attack on your son. I have no knowledge of the letter's contents, and I suggest burning it so you can control the message as you wish, just use any old letter as your prop."
"It is a very...heroic story."
Tendal pauses and drinks his wine while he thinks for a moment.
"I suggest you make certain that the story spreads. I can recommend a young lady by the name of Liry who might take to some creative rumor spreading...well once you divest her of her costume horns."
Saul laughs. "Good thinking, lad." He gets up from his chair to move around to the front of the desk, and two things immediately become apparent. Tendal's first thought is that Orik's mother must have been very tall. Orik Vankaskerkin is a man of somewhat-above-average height, but his father is remarkably short, built along similar lines as the dwarf who just left the room, except with a tendency to fat rather than to muscle. The second thing that immediately attracts attention is Saul's left arm, which had remained below the desk while he was seated. Extending from the sleeve of his coat is not a hand, but a large brass key.
Saul, already used to these two facts of his existence, advances jovially toward Tendal, offering first a handshake and then a friendly slap on the back. Bojasc follows, his grim visage showing no change in demeanor as he hovers over his employer's shoulder. "Well, shall we go spread the glad tidings?"
"I would love to." Tendal says after shaking Saul's hand.
As Sarien walks into the courtyard of the Gold Goblin, he slows to take it all in. The original grandeur of the place that still remains is impressive but he's disturbed by the evidence of neglect and ill-repair.
"The Gold on this goblin appears to be flaking rather badly," he comments dryly. He turns to the man who had guided them in. "Thank you for your assistance. We'd heard rumors of jobs available. Should we have an interest, would you know where we might inquire?"
Malikith raises an eyebrow as he stands in front of the hearth, "So Saul Vankaskerkin is your business partner? It sounds like there's a lot you don't know about him for being so willing to put your coin on the line."
As Sarien walks into the courtyard of the Gold Goblin, he slows to take it all in. The original grandeur of the place that still remains is impressive but he's disturbed by the evidence of neglect and ill-repair.
"The Gold on this goblin appears to be flaking rather badly," he comments dryly.
"Literally." Phillip quietly points out the left toe of the oversized goblin, which someone missed when they were applying gold paint; beneath, the statue seems to be made of plaster.
He turns to the man who had guided them in. "Thank you for your assistance. We'd heard rumors of jobs available. Should we have an interest, would you know where we might inquire?"
The man shrugs. "Probably around back. They've got a couple of Croat's boys at the front doors, keeping away gawkers. That's where I've got to deliver these crates, at any rate." He trundles away, around the southern wing of the building.
Malikith raises an eyebrow as he stands in front of the hearth, "So Saul Vankaskerkin is your business partner? It sounds like there's a lot you don't know about him for being so willing to put your coin on the line."
The dwarf manages to repress his cough and tucks the handkerchief back into his pocket. "All I know," he wheezes with conviction, "is he's the only other man in Riddleport willing to poke Cleg Zincher in the eye. But, damn it, it's no good if we go bankrupt on opening night! I'll tell you what I need, elf," he turns back vehemently on Daynadrian. "I need gamblers to show up tonight. I need them to spend money, and I need them to lose big. I need no trouble from Zincher or Croat or the hellspawn abbess or, gods help us, the damned Overlord. And then I need all that again next week, and the week after that, and the week after that. Your 'skills' can guarantee me any of that, we'll talk about 'fair financial agreements.'"
Upon hearing the worried Dwarf list his problems Dayn smiles even wider "Well, there, you see, you've just made my case for me. You need feet and voices to help spread the word and get as many gamblers in here as possible, and then you need sharp eyes and quick and sure hands and weapons attached to them to help ensure that you're investment reaps all the rewards you wish it to."
Leaning back even further into the couch, Dayn looks up at the ceiling as he muses "Now, promotion and advertising of your business, that's one job. A job lovely Liry has been doing very excellently I might add. I mean look, she brought all of us here didn't she? Working as elite guards and protectors of your investment, why, that's another job. So here here is what I'm thinking my friend. Obviously funds are tight for you, with the amount of money you've clearly invested in this place. And then paying a bunch of adventurers for two jobs, why might tax any purse."
Leaning forward now, smile even wider, Dayn goes in for the kill "So what I propose is, how about cutting us in for a little bit of the profit? That way, we're much more motivated to help you make more profit, and help you keep what profit you make. You make no profit, you pay us nothing, but you do make profit, and get to keep all of it, well that you pay us our fair share? Again, I can't speak for anybody here but myself, but that sounds like a darn good deal to me."
And leaning back again, hands locked behind his head, Daynadrian waits for the wheezy Dwarf's reply.
"So, what's your beef with Herr Zincher?" Malkith inquires. He wasn't sure about all of the elf's talk about elite guards and protecting investments, but the intrigue of two men working together to "poke Cleg Zincher in the eye" was starting to take hold. "As I understand it, opening this casino is pretty much asking for trouble - at least from Zincher."
Phil notes the poorly done paint and the general 'renovator's dream' aspect that the Goblin is portraying with interest. An act of a desperate proprietor? - or one with drive and purpose and a paucity of time?
To Sarien he shrugs and suggests "I've no real desire to take a position... but still, cannot hurt to enquire - and it would give us a better look around to do so."
"So, what's your beef with Herr Zincher?" Malkith inquires. He wasn't sure about all of the elf's talk about elite guards and protecting investments, but the intrigue of two men working together to "poke Cleg Zincher in the eye" was starting to take hold. "As I understand it, opening this casino is pretty much asking for trouble - at least from Zincher."
Larur lets out a strangled succession of wheezes that is finally recognizable as a laugh. "Lad, the only thing I could do that isn't asking for trouble from Zincher is to lay down and die behind closed doors like he wants me to, and I've no intention of doing that. The only question is what exactly I'm going to do to piss him off. The casino was Saul's idea; said we could get this property for a song. Didn't sound so gods damned crazy then."
At that moment, the door from the inner office swings open, and a man the same approximate height and breadth as Larur Felden parades out, the forbidding doorman and Tendal in tow. Both Tendal and Bojasc arrive at the doorjamb at the same moment, but a glare from the larger man gives Tendal enough pause that Bojasc steps out just behind Saul, towering over the shorter man and leaving Tendal to bring up the rear.
"Larur!" Saul exults, approaching the dwarf and slapping him exuberantly on the back. "This isn't just a grand opening; it's a celebration! I've just gotten a letter from my son, Orik. He's alive and well; set himself up as a legitimate businessman in some town down the Lost Coast. Congratulate me!" He turns to the rest of the room, his arms wide, the key-stump in place of his missing left hand glinting in the lamplight. "And the rest of you! Liry, my love, kiss me; Orik's been found." As the becostumed woman obliges with a shrug, dropping a peck on his cheek, he looks around at the others. "I don't know any of you!" he grins, offering his hand around, "but congratulate me anyway. My son Orik's been missing for months; we were afraid he was dead!"
"Fortuitous news for you indeed," Malkith comments, "With luck it will continue this evening with the opening of your new business venture."