Shadow over Riddleport

Game Master Joana

Snake looks to Gristav, "Who's the Varisian?"

"Malkith Deraythen, I suppose is who is meant. A tattooed harrower, intelligent and wise, but both in a more methodical mien than whatever claim I have to either quality. I suspect to him I've seemed the hound needing leash, flushing game before arrows set, while to me he's seemed too slow to turn in the chase. Stylistic differences. If you find me a flibbertigibbet, you'll find him stately, stolid, sound as the stone."

"So then, we might make an auspicious six? Braddon, Snake, Phillip, Malkith, Tendal, and myself?"

Tendal looks surprised to be included in the proposal. "I'm afraid I must decline the invitation," he says firmly. "There are a great many logistical hurdles to be dealt with before our next opening on Sunday. We've deliveries and meetings scheduled all day. Why not take the elf?" He glances carelessly at Daynadrian. "He undoubtedly has more experience dealing with the gritty and uncouth masses."

Daynadrian bristles at the suggestion. "My schedule's not yours to arrange," he tells Tendal before turning to address the table more generally and Saul in particular. "I thought I'd go back and check in with my contact at the temple, the one who helped us find Lil's flat in the first place, see if anyone there has had word of her since she supposedly took off on this sea cruise. If she's the one who has it in for the Goblin, she might be making her own plans for Sunday night."

"Well, five, then. It is a good day for magicks... Mr. Deverin, Mr. Kane, do you also feel the importune of pregnant potence in the weave and the weft of the world, waiting wile and will to wyrd?" In punctuation and proof, Gristav spreads pinched fingers, arcing aurum arcane art between them.

Tendal sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. "Mr. Gristav, it is remarkably early in the morning for magic, in my opinion. I'll let you know after I've finished my coffee."

"Speaking of magic..., Gristav interjects, as if anyone but he had been, "There's a smattering of healsome alchemys about, and at hand? Memoirs of more seasoned, and honestly, more yeared adventurists suggest that, while personal possession be best for personal persistence, better still they be near and beside those who might heal others. Or, as I read it, 'Save a potion to wake the healer'. I'd suggest Braddon as our stoutest, and Phillip, if he'll be coming, as our swiftest."

Snake looks to the magus with narrowed eyes. Huh? How would he know that? "What if something strange did happen? Does that mean something?"

"Speaking of magic..., Gristav interjects, as if anyone but he had been, "There's a smattering of healsome alchemys about, and at hand?"

"Aye," Daynadrian nods, "the scribe had one when we caught him trying to get of town, and Volo had one as well, not that it did the bastard any good. Lil's other patsy," he explains to the men new since the opening gala, "the one who led Thuvalia astray. I think Malkith has them."

"Fine, then," Saul nods, "you lot run your errand for the Gendarmes -- never hurts to have the law owe you a favor -- and when the alchemist shows up after lunch, we'll see if we can't turn a tidy little profit on Cleg's housewarming gift, eh?"

Snake looks to the magus with narrowed eyes. Huh? How would he know that? "What if something strange did happen? Does that mean something?"

"It always means something, isn't that one of the principles of our practice, that truths untaught, unthought, unwrought, all wait the wile, or wit, or will? Until by faen, fiat, or faith, that next nonce, that quested quiddity, be claimed? Oh, it always means something."

"To me, it means this day is a better day, by half and more, beside, for magics made in mind. What does it mean, to you?"

Having left Ethel in his room and arrived roughly in tune with the others Phillip had been characteristically quiet and observant as he sipped upon Sargavan Red and partook of a roll of bread. Towards the completion Phillip shrugged at his inclusion in the party towards Rotgut, but forswore the Gendarmes "If you need my nursemaiding it needs be over before the sun passes overhead... I've business in the arena come the afternoon. And any business you've got with the Gendarmes is your own... I've no inclination to make any of their acquaintance."

Snake just stares blankly at Gristav for a moment, a visage made of complete stone before he simply responds with, "I have absolutely no idea."

Nodding to Snake's reply, Gristav replies following Phillip, "I'm promised for the Duck for breakfast. Even generously drifting that into the tenth hour, time is tight. Let me go fetch Braddon. I'll try not to wake the rest of the house, much as we'd all welcome the (ladeez) presence." Gristav took up a roll for Braddon, stuffed the last of his scone in his mouth, and headed down the stairs, still smiling in thanks to pronunciation, that he hadn't needed to declare the plurality he'd intended, of 'lady'...

Gristav arrives at Braddon's door unaccosted and raps lightly but persistently, hoping to wake the half-elf without disturbing the rest or study of his neighbors.

"mmmrrruuuggghhh?"
"mmrruugghh?"
"MRUGH!"
There's a cling as something metallic falls against stone. A creak is followed by the chinking of metal, then a heavy thud against the door, which opens to reveal Braddon's unsmiling face and unkempt hair. To be fair though, his hair always looks unkempt.
"What? Is it still dark? Or is that the shadow of the... ooh roll!"
Braddon's smile reappears as he takes the proffered pastry through the portal and pops it partially in his mouth.
"Thanks. What's the plan?"

"Upstairs, for coffee to weight the roll. Then, to Rotgut, in fulfillment of our suggestion to the General. And then, I hope, to the Duck for griddlecakes by ten."

"And any business you've got with the Gendarmes is your own... I've no inclination to make any of their acquaintance."

"I'll trust they'll be safe enough heading to Devil's Fork," Saul grins. "Just keep an eye out for miscreants in Rotgut: pickpockets, press gangs, and the like."

With a sideways glance at Serpe Phillip muses "Knowing Gristav he'll return with half in tow vouching their honor and demanding them employment."

"Doesn't sound too bad."

Braddon heads towards the ascending stairs.

"Better tell Saul what the General said. Drive Lil to Roderic's Cove so he can grab her. Maybe send that scribe off too. Maybe keep him around in case we need another letter written. And bring Lil's furniture back here. Make my room a little more homey. It smells for some reason."

Braddon makes his way into the dining room and looks past the occupants to the contents of the table.

"Good morning," he mutters cheerily mostly towards the sweet tart he picks up and inserts almost entirely into his mouth. He sits and pours himself a cup of tea with one hand while reaching for a croissant with his other.

"Knowing Gristav he'll return with half in tow vouching their honor and demanding them employment."

"If this drunken priest serves Desna, I'll hire him," Saul replies instantly. "You know what clerics charge for spellcasting? And you know what our cut would be ... for, uh, maintenance of the shrine and so forth? And if he's living in a flophouse, he's likely to turn around and spend his own share at the bar. Good morning, yourself," he replies to Braddon as the two half-elves enter the dining room.

Larur frowns at Saul's words, and his hand goes to the pocket where Arnando Rolf's bill is stowed. "That reminds me, Saul," he struggles to make himself heard over the table. "I'm going to need to get into the vault today for some coin."

"Hm? What's that?" Saul asks the dwarf. "Oh, you mean to pay the carpenter? Don't worry about it; I've already arranged with Cas to accept payment on Moonday."

Phillip lets a biting and caustic comment swirl around his mouth before swallowing it behind a slight scowl. Rising he sets down his empty cup "I'll be downstairs when you need me." before sweeping out of the room.

Gristav gives the tension of Phillip's leaving a respectful period of uncomfortable silence. But, being Gristav, he then immediately says, "It's not the Cas, but the caster, of whose payment Larur speaks. The poison's repairs. It may be you find no profit in your alchemist's attentions, only recompense for costs of capture. Or, referencing such costs, perhaps some slight profit can be made."

"Oh, and if I heard from the stairs... The priest I seek is not visibly a drunkard, nor of Desna. He is, I believe, a Sarenraeite. And thus, likely not to be disturbed however early we present ourselves. Shall we, gentlemen? With Phillip half gone already, are the rest of us half ready to be gone?"

Braddon washes down the mouthful with his tea, stands and puts the rest of his food on the table in front of him but makes no move towards the door. Instead, he addresses Saul and Larur.

"We did some more investigating yesterday. I dunno what the others told you. I assume they told you the General found Gramma over the cliffs, right where we thought she'd be. The General is pretty upset that the housekeeper protecting his daughter has been murdered. That's a little close to the mark for him. We've told him it was Lil. If we show him the evidence and let the scribe's letter go through to Lil, he'll have her taken at Roderic's Cove. Do you want that?"
Braddon's eyes are hard.
"We can also show the evidence to Shorafa; see if she wants to keep protecting Lil or if she's prepared to take on you and the General. The General doesn't officially know we're working for you. If you want we can tell him and share the gratitude around. We'll need the evidence we collected and the letter but we need only give away the letter. How do you want this to go down?"

Saul looks nervous at the suggestion of confronting Shorafa. "Let the Gendarmes handle it. If Shorafa has a grievance, let her take it up with the Overlord. I don't want our name anywhere near any action against Lil. Bojasc, get the letter." As the Varisian slowly gets to his feet to go to Saul's office, his employer goes on. "Now the vials we won't have identified until the alchemist shows up after lunch. Do you want to take the letter with you now, or wait until we've verified the contents of the vials and then deliver the whole package to Devil's Fork?"

With a sideways glance at Serpe Phillip muses "Knowing Gristav he'll return with half in tow vouching their honor and demanding them employment."

"Heh. Wouldn't surprise me."

Moments later, as Phillip leaves the room obviously upset about something, Snake turns his attention to Gristav as he carries on. Once finished, "What's eatin' him?" he asks, nodding in the direction of the now departed halfling.

"... Do you want to take the letter with you now, or wait until we've verified the contents of the vials and then deliver the whole package to Devil's Fork?"

"Probably best to take all the evidence to the General at once and let him play with it. The letter has been opened. Do you have contacts to fix that or should we just get our guest downstairs to write up another letter? We could possibly hand him over to the General as well and let the General dispose of him. Though I think the General is more concerned with Lil than another of her patsies."

Phillip Hargreaves wrote:

With a sideways glance at Serpe Phillip muses "Knowing Gristav he'll return with half in tow vouching their honor and demanding them employment."

"Heh. Wouldn't surprise me."

Moments later, as Phillip leaves the room obviously upset about something, Snake turns his attention to Gristav as he carries on. Once finished, "What's eatin' him?" he asks, nodding in the direction of the now departed halfling.

"In your case? That I championed you. In my case? That I was not the stone from which he meant to fashion a hammer. In the general case? (Not THE General's case, Braddon) I suspect that while a bear might stand and blink, a badger has to crouch and growl. That smaller hounds are more wont to bark, similar metaphors... something about a Lion's Nephew is half-remembered. I'd find interest in whether he's as abrupt with his own folk."

Saul Vankaskerkin wrote:

"... Do you want to take the letter with you now, or wait until we've verified the contents of the vials and then deliver the whole package to Devil's Fork?"

"Probably best to take all the evidence to the General at once and let him play with it. The letter has been opened. Do you have contacts to fix that or should we just get our guest downstairs to write up another letter? We could possibly hand him over to the General as well and let the General dispose of him. Though I think the General is more concerned with Lil than another of her patsies."

"We've means to repair the seal, in house, providing all the parts are at hand. Getting the letter back among the outland post, in the harbormaster's office... well, it's a grand bit of work to have taken it, all unknown. Getting it put back...", Gristav begins to ponder.

Braddon pauses, reaches for another roll then stop himself and then looks nervously at Larur. Then he takes a breath and plunges on.
"And I was serious about that pay rise yesterday.
Sunday I took down some of those thugs.
Moonday I got Ananda home safe without anyone knowing she was at the Goblin.
Toilday I found Lil's secret hideout with Dayn.
Wealday we brought in her patsy.
Yesterday we took out Zincher's spiders.
I know you paid us in advance for which I'm truly grateful, but now I know how crazy things are if I live until next payday, I'd like it to be more."
He looks guiltily at the food in front of him before saying a little quieter. "Please."
He looks to the others, then picks up his food from the table and glances at the door.

"Not to put too fine a point upon it, but all your field staff have done yeoman's work. I gather it's to be denied, but I'll again offend our out-of-ear friend, in saying the business of the spiders' disposal, hangs on his work. That is all I can warrant of his effort, but it's enough, I think. For many of the rest, I was beside them in harm's way, or sequent witness thereof..." Gris pauses, and smirks. "And I know how to return the letter to the harbormaster."

"Probably best to take all the evidence to the General at once and let him play with it. The letter has been opened. Do you have contacts to fix that or should we just get our guest downstairs to write up another letter? We could possibly hand him over to the General as well and let the General dispose of him. Though I think the General is more concerned with Lil than another of her patsies."

"The scribe is a problem," Saul admits. "Is there anyone out there that might miss him? Apart from, presumably, Lil?" he grimaces.

"We've means to repair the seal, in house, providing all the parts are at hand. Getting the letter back among the outland post, in the harbormaster's office... well, it's a grand bit of work to have taken it, all unknown. Getting it put back...", Gristav begins to ponder.

Saul seems unperturbed by the problem of reinserting the letter into the delivery process. "Leave it to the Gendarmes," he waves his hand airily. "The Harbormaster works for Avery Slyeg, who is Cromarcky's capp. He and Mescher are part of the same organization; he won't bat an eye at delivering a letter where he's told to, if it's Mescher doing the telling."

"And I was serious about that pay rise yesterday.

Sunday I took down some of those thugs.
Moonday I got Ananda home safe without anyone knowing she was at the Goblin.
Toilday I found Lil's secret hideout with Dayn.
Wealday we brought in her patsy.
Yesterday we took out Zincher's spiders.
I know you paid us in advance for which I'm truly grateful, but now I know how crazy things are if I live until next payday, I'd like it to be more."
He looks guiltily at the food in front of him before saying a little quieter. "Please."

The dwarf puffs up with indignation; one can almost see the hairs on his chin getting bristlier. "'More?'" he demands, in what ought to be an outraged bellow but comes out instead as a hoarse wheeze. "You're already making what I worked my way up to in the Gas Forges after near a decade of experience! You think we're made of coin?"

Braddon Hurst wrote:

"...The letter has been opened. Do you have contacts to fix that or should we just get our guest downstairs to write up another letter? We could possibly hand him over to the General as well and let the General dispose of him. ..."

"The scribe is a problem," Saul admits. "Is there anyone out there that might miss him? Apart from, presumably, Lil?" he grimaces.

"Someone in here.", Gristav says softly, then with more volume, "I would miss him. If he were... gone. I'd rather see him delivered to the General, turned into another indentured incarcerate alumnus, and yes, I'd rather risk his freedom, and revenge, than have our fear of him cost all of his life, and whatever fraction, of our souls." Gristav was stiff as starch by the end of his piece, but he wilted just the smallest bit, and added, "But I acknowledge, I may not even, have a vote."

Gristav wrote:

"We've means to repair the seal, in house, providing all the parts are at hand. Getting the letter back among the outland post, in the harbormaster's office... well, it's a grand bit of work to have taken it, all unknown. Getting it put back...", Gristav begins to ponder.

Saul seems unperturbed by the problem of reinserting the letter into the delivery process. "Leave it to the Gendarmes," he waves his hand airily. "The Harbormaster works for Avery Slyeg, who is Cromarcky's capp. He and Mescher are part of the same organization; he won't bat an eye at delivering a letter where he's told to, if it's Mescher doing the telling."

"Then it only remains for one of our handful of magi to restore the seal. It's a simple magic, and given Mr. Tendal's not yet turned his mind to magic this morning, it would seem, it falls to him. Gristav mocked the motions and sounds of the common cantrip, enough for any magician to guess at his meaning.

Braddon Hurst wrote:

[b]"And I was serious about that pay rise yesterday.

Sunday I took down some of those thugs.
Moonday I got Ananda home safe without anyone knowing she was at the Goblin.
Toilday I found Lil's secret hideout with Dayn.
Wealday we brought in her patsy.
Yesterday we took out Zincher's spiders.
I know you paid us in advance for which I'm truly grateful, but now I know how crazy things are if I live until next payday, I'd like it to be more."
He looks guiltily at the food in front of him before saying a little quieter. "Please."

The dwarf puffs up with indignation; one can almost see the hairs on his chin getting bristlier. "'More?'" he demands, in what ought to be an outraged bellow but comes out instead as a hoarse wheeze. "You're already making what I worked my way up to in the Gas Forges after near a decade of experience! You think we're made of coin?"

"I thought that was an old wive's tale", Gristav jokes, "Like the smelling of it, or how the beard's to hide golden chains." Laying a gentle hand on Braddon, Gristav says, "You can have some of mine." To the room Gris says, "Any man I've served with has five per cent of mine. Braddon, Dayn, Malkith, Phillip's earned it. And Snake. And it's not charity. There's lives in the chips we're wagering, on the turn of a card or blade or a word. We ought all be above - or not reduced to, the coin of it. I think you've all earned the gold. But we owe duty, to the grace of Mercy."

Bojasc returns with Weatherby's missive and hands it to Saul who, in turn, passes it along to Tendal, ignoring Larur's outburst. "We're not in a position to be laying out extra coin ahead of Sunday," he replies to Braddon calmly. "But I'd be open to discussing a Moonday morning bonus if the night comes off without any disruptions."

"A bonus?" Larur protests. "When they're filling their pockets like highwaymen already?"

"Now, Larur, he has a point," Saul reasons with the dwarf patiently. "Without them, we wouldn't be opening Sunday night. We'd have been ruined by the junior Sczarni or shut down by the Gendarmes. Just think where we'd be if we hadn't had the men to track down those spiders when they got out; we couldn't open our doors with predators hiding in the chimneys and stairwells. If we have a good night, we'll be able to pay them out of the profits; if we don't have a good night, we'll probably be shutting down and won't be on the hook for their future salaries anyway," he grins. "We sink or swim together."

"A bonus?" Larur protests. "When they're filling their pockets like highwaymen already?"

"When they were highwaymen, they filled Saul's pockets.", Gristav observes. "But let your gambler partner do the handicapping; Which of our nights has yet gone undisrupted?", he asks grinning.

"Gentlemen: can we be away? We can't come back, until we've been away."

Snake forms a curious look at Larur's statement as he reaches within his pocket and pulls it inside out, inspecting the contents that just so happens to consist of nothing more than lint. "I'm guessing you and me have a different take on what a 'filled' pocket should look like, dwarf." Pushing his pocket back in, "Let's move. We've wasted enough time."

"I'm happy to wait for a pay rise. Like I said, you paid in advance, I accepted. Since then half a dozen people and four giant spiders have tried to kill me. So next week I'll be a bit more careful about the pay in advance thing."
He nods to Larur.
"Don't worry. I'm still yours. And I'll still do anything you ask."
He shrugs.
"That's how jobs work."
Braddon turns to the others.
"Let's go do ours."
He picks up the last of his food and heads towards the door.

Braddon, Gristav, and Snake take their leave of the rest of the casino staff and head down the staircase. As they enter the kitchen from the break room, Phillip comes in through the double doors, armed with his small crossbow, a Varisian scarf wrapped around his neck.

Ready to head out?

Phillip waits expectantly with the air of a older child that had been asked to escort the younger child to market and ensure they don't get into trouble.

Braddon traipses into his room and comes back a few moments later, laden with stuff and still chewing the last of his breakfast. He moves fluently and easily in his chain shirt, wearing it like a second skin. His bastard sword rides low on one hip, Volo's masterwork shord sword on the other. Weatherby's masterwork light crossbow hangs from a strap of his backpack, within easy grasping range, and a dagger and two of Thuvalia's crossbow bolts are tucked into his belt. His backpack bulges in some places but obviously has room inside for plenty more.

"I'm gonna take one of those vials we got from the scribe. Anybody else want one? And anyone know where we can get his armour repainted for me?"
Braddon turns to Phil.
"The guy was wearing a golden breastplate. Middle of the night, middle of the road. He was almost glowing. I've had some easy ambushes in my time but that was just amazing. And then he had the gall to resist. Well, that obviously didn't work out too well for him. He was supposed to be working for the temple of Abadar at one time. The armour will probably be grateful for new owner."
Braddon nods emphatically before turning back to Gristav.
"And we should probably get those gems checked out the thugs had to see if they're just glass or something."
"Let's head."

Braddon makes his way to the door out of the Gold Goblin.

(Braddon now has a potion of cure light wounds on him)