Snake simply stares at the man a moment, trying desperately to understand what it is he's talking about. And trying to understand why it is this man seems to think he's a part of some underground operation. This idiot won't listen and won't believe a word I say! He acts like he knows me but I've never seen this guy before in my life! Sighing, he tries a different tactic - an idea he formed earlier coming to mind. "Right. Okay. Well, um, what did you do with the girl and the woman? The woman was hurt and the girl possessed a doll. Tell me where they are and I'll get word to Marzo the cuts on the way." Maybe I can learn SOMETHING of value going this route. Don't really know what else to do.
Settling back into his lurk Phillip's mind then turns to what he'd do in the wharfsman's situation... probably get back to the wharf and see his friends and think that 10 vs 3 is a much better scenario than 1 vs 3... Sighing he realizes that there's time yet for trouble and strife... and resumes his watching... still confused as to exactly what has enticed Gristav to return to the sh1theap of a building that he has...
Gristav meets no one in the upstairs hallway as he finds his way back to Padraig's room. He pauses a moment before rejoining Braddon and the elderly man out on the deck to look over the pigeon-post supplies on the desk. ...the magnifying glass must cost more than all the furnishings he's seen combined; undoubtedly it is used both to write and to interpret the tiny missives tied to the birds' legs.
"...and make an acceptably swift scorch in Sign of the Sun. How do You feel about this?", Gristav asked the light around the ill-fit door.
"Aye," the old man replies, "they used to have to go by ship when the Father first arrived. But they learned quick; they're right smart animals. They let them go from the cathedral spire hungry, and they know they'll find a meal here in Riddleport. Then when the Father has a message to send back, they know where their home is in Roderic's Cove."
{...and if food were found afore the flock?}, Gristav wondered wordlessly.
"Padraig", Gristav asks, "Do you play cribbage? Would you play, if I- if we?", Gris looks questioningly to Braddon, "Brought a board?""Ah, cribbage. Used to play with Jhonas afore he shipped out. You should come back when the Devil's Grail is in port and play muggins. Jhonas is cut-throat at muggins, he is."
"I've never played muggins. Though I've had some try to play it at me...", Gristav jokes, then sobers. "Padraig, how long ago, was the Grail? I've found no sailor who knows of it. Where was it bound?" To Braddon, Gristav whispers, "A son, I think"
"Weighed anchor in the spring," he replies, a timber of surety entering his voice as he reconnects with the vivid memory. "Set sail on the afternoon tide. Not one of these minnows jumping from harbor to harbor in the Gulf, a great ship heading all the way south to the Inner Sea. One doesn't make a voyage like that and return in a season, aye, or even two. 'Jhonas,' I tells him, 'you be sure and make your obeisance to the 'Gate. There's never a sailor what failed to respect the 'Gate sailing under it but met a watery end.'"
"Weighed anchor in the spring," he replies, a timber of surety entering his voice as he reconnects with the vivid memory. "Set sail on the afternoon tide. Not one of these minnows jumping from harbor to harbor in the Gulf, a great ship heading all the way south to the Inner Sea. One doesn't make a voyage like that and return in a season, aye, or even two. 'Jhonas,' I tells him, 'you be sure and make your obeisance to the 'Gate. There's never a sailor what failed to respect the 'Gate sailing under it but met a watery end.'"
"What year was it? What is Jhonas' last name?"
There is a general murmur of agreement from the rest of the men, accompanied by the cracking of knuckles, and you're suddenly very aware that you're outnumbered five to one ... six to one, if you count the muttering man.
Snake looks around, knowing he's in a pickle. Great. I've got a half dozen thugs ready to pounce on me if I make the wrong move. And what is this Cove? Roderic's Cove maybe? The more this bum talks, the less I understand. I better just play this right. "Alright, Kreun, have it your way. I'll let him know. Which way to the kitchen? I could use a drink." He glances around, wondering if he's already had his last drink.
"What year was it? What is Jhonas' last name?"
"Three and twenty he was, the autumn before the Grail sailed. That was...," he trails off, a pained look crossing his face as he counts back the time, before his expression grows placid again. "He'll have missed his natal day when he gets back, but he'll take me on a pleasure cruise just the same. The things he'll have seen, down to Cheliax where they worship devils!"
"Surely, that", Gristav agrees, trying to smile, feeling guilt at the old man's pain. "Let's hope we all get to sit to a game of muggins. Cribbage, until then? Once I've found a board." {And perhaps another deck of cards?}, Gristav thought to himself.
"Oh", Gris adds as if he hadn't held the thought in reserve, "The birds, Padraig. I think it'd be better care for the birds, without drink on your breath. Could you spare the drink, 'til they were down for the night? Something to think on..."
Poison? Man I hope he's just being sarcastic. "Yeah a couple o' patsies. One likes to hear himself talk and the other isn't the sharpest needle in the haystack, if you know what I mean." He winks, tapping his temple. "I ran into them on the road and gave them a made up name and told them I didn't know anything about this town in hopes they wouldn't ask too many questions. Fortunately, they haven't; but they insist on going wherever I go. I guess they're too nice. Or, more than likely, too foolish." He grins wryly. "So how about those drinks? Just point the way to the kitchen and I'll fetch 'em."
Braddon's attention quickly drifts from the conversation.
He peers through the door then shifts back to the edge of the roof and scans the city street for anything.
The men scatter to follow Kreun's orders, and the ostensible priest himself takes the stairs up with the one called Balston, leaving you along with a small, nervous-looking man and the muttering one in sailcloth, still seeming to take no notice of what's going on around him. Despite Kreun's acceptance of your story, you still feel uneasy about his intentions.
"The birds, Padraig. I think it'd be better care for the birds, without drink on your breath. Could you spare the drink, 'til they were down for the night? Something to think on..."
Padraig accepts the advice affably enough, although it's hard to tell if Gristav has made any deeper impression on the old man's spotty memory than he did on the boy's high spirits. Braddon glances idly down at the street, vaguely hoping that the press-ganging sailor might be returning with his shipmates so something interesting would happen, but Rotgut remains quiet and still. Few inhabitants have jobs to report to, so there seems to be no compelling reason for them to get out of bed and on the streets. A few blocks south, a go-getting liquor salesman unlocks the padlock on his front doors, in the apparent hope that the early worm will attract more birds.
After a long enough period of inactivity that your joints begin to stiffen, the front doors of Rag's End again swing open. Two men come out, one large one with a lazy eye that stares off into the middle distance and a smaller, sinewy companion who takes out a dagger and begins to flip it with dextrous expertness as they both take up positions on the stoop, apparently as some kind of look-out.
Snake looks to the men, curious of what their issues might be. Another time, he thinks to himself as he makes his way to the kitchen.
He keeps his eyes peeled as he travels through the dining room and into the kitchen. As he arrives, he takes a look around, hoping to find the woman and the girl.
Knowledge (Local):
Sense Motive:
The men you see on the front stoop look more like thugs than missionaries, although in a neighborhood like this, one might have to be both. You get the impression they're bouncers of a sort: visible as a show of muscle, a deterrent to anyone who might be looking for trouble.
The barefoot man in sailcloth comes around the corner behind you and hoarsely mutters almost in your ear, "You have to eat it." As you turn to look at him questioningly, he prattles on, "Swallow down the bowl of the wrath of Sarenrae to the bitter dregs, and pray that her displeasure is spent." He walks on by you as he mutters, heading for the kitchen, and you're not entirely sure if he was speaking to you or to himself.
These people need help. He looks to the woman and girl, Badly. Casually making his way to the table, he stands a moment before slowly pulling a chair out and sitting. He just watches the two a moment, wondering what in the Nine Hells these people have been through to be reduced to such. Finally breaking the silence, "Looks painful. The bruise, that is. How did you collect such a trophy? Did you fall, or something?" He glances over at the little girl, curious if her attention is drawn from wherever she is.
Phillip muses upon what he's pieced together and can't think of any way that he could either inform those within or work a way to get them out that doesn't involve the acceptance of some risk. So for the moment he returns to his vigil.
"A man hit her," the girl volunteers emotionlessly, still staring at the wall. "He wanted the place she was staying in, so he beat her and threw her out. That's why she's here."
Not seeing anything of interest in the street, Braddon makes his way back through the tiny room and downstairs again. He keeps an eye out for the boy they rescued while sidling over to Snake.
Fury rises within him, yet he remains a picture of calm. As she shrinks away, pity arrives as well while his anger only increases. I'm willing to bet that wasn't the only time that <bleep> did this to her. "This man got a name? And when did this happen?"
Prompted by Braddon's exit (and reasoning that a service were better interrupted once than twice), Gristav says a gentle but loud farewell to Padraig, and follows. There was still the Father to recruit, after all.
Braddon and Gristav take their leave of the pigeon-keeper and find their way back toward the staircase and the windows overlooking the entrance. As they step out into the main corridor, they both notice a flash of movement out of the corners of their eyes: A door at the eastern end of the hall has just quietly closed. Through the windows, they can see out into the street in front of Rag's End. On the stoop below, they see Badeye and Rasper; either the service is over, or the pair have excused themselves to stand guard. A few staggering mendicants have emerged from their stupors and are approaching the mission.
"This man got a name? And when did this happen?"
The girl shrugs. "Just a man. Chased us out so him and his friends could have the room."
The woman looks up from her bowl with a frown. "Don't make trouble," she reprimands the girl. "Eat your breakfast."
"I don't like it," the girl says with a shiver, pushing the bowl away.
"Don't be ungrateful," the woman replies in a harsher tone. "You'll wish you'd eaten it when you had the chance, later when your belly's empty and nothing to fill it."
Braddon walks down the hall to the stairs and climbs down the first two. Instead of continuing however, he treads in place on the second step with quieter and quieter footsteps. He gives Gristav a wink as Gristav passes, then Braddon quietly and slowly sneaks back to the recently closed door they passed and waits to see if it opens again, ready to push it if it does.
Braddon sneaks past the windows to the door at the end of the hall, trying to be as quiet as possible on the creaking floorboards, and waits. For a few seconds, nothing happens; then he hears, from the other side of the door, slow and careful receding footsteps, moving away from him to the south. Glancing down the hall, he sees another door on the same wall: perhaps another exit from the room?
Fathoming Braddon's tiptoed ruse at once, Gristav went one further step, and similarly marched in place, in time, ad pianissimo. Not trusting his own gifts for stealth, Gristav remained there, keeping Braddon in sight, though whether to support the other half-elf's activities, or to constrain them, remained to be seen.
{At least, he hasn't drawn a blade...}, Gristav muses.
Braddon frowns, shrugs, opens his door and walks into the room.
"Can I help you?" he asks pulling the door to, but leaving enough room for a companion to slide in behind him.
Sighing, Gristav goes after Braddon to keep him in sight. "You know", he jokes, "You needn't pursue...", hoping to catch a glimpse through the doorway, of whoever Braddon faces.
Snake looks to the little girl curiously. Leaning forward a bit, "Chased you out of where?"
Snake looks directly in the little girl's eyes, unblinking as he leans in a bit closer, "Freedom." He then glances at the bowl of food that he himself wouldn't touch, "And whatever food your heart desires." He leans back out a bit and looks to the woman, "And that goes for you as well, ma'am. This place ain't right for either of you and I aim to get you out." A thought then crosses his mind as he returns the conversation back to the child. "Do you like animals, darlin'? Look up here on my shoulder." Snake crane's his neck over his shoulder, "Hey, Luck! Come on out a moment, I got a friend that would like to see you." Grinning as he turns his head back around, the tiny mongoose peeks his head out, sniffing, before quickly making his way upon his shoulder. "His name's Lucky. He saved my life, so, that's why I call him Lucky. You can pet him if you want."
Braddon frowns, shrugs, opens his door and walks into the room.
"Can I help you?" he asks pulling the door to, but leaving enough room for a companion to slide in behind him.
Braddon steps into a long narrow storage room, cluttered with broken furniture, empty bottles, and piles of shabby clothing. Two dirty windows in the eastern wall let in the morning sunlight. A man is standing at the other door, holding a dagger by its blade. He gapes at Braddon, startled, for a long moment, then says belligerently, "Aye, you can tell me where your half-height friend is. We know he's about."
Behind Gristav, the door at the top of the stairs opens, and Beltias Kreun emerges, a bottle in his hand. He smiles as he approaches the half-elf. "There a problem? I trust you found your bird-keeping friend. He's not ... wandering again, is he?" He peers past Gris into the storage room inquisitively.
"Look what you've done!" the woman hisses at her in fury, pointing with her spoon at the mess. "They'll put us out on the streets if you cause trouble."
The man in sackcloth re-emerges from the kitchen, a bowl of his own in his hands, and the interchange at the table draws his attention even from the chaos within his own mind. "Little sister," he moans at the girl in distress, "you must drink down the bowl of her wrath. If you waste the gifts of Sarenrae, how will you ever hope to survive her vengeance to come?"
Three men shamble in by the front doors, looking bleary and disheveled. Ignoring the ruckus, they stumble into the kitchen to get their own bowls of gruel.
As Lucky quickly climbs back in, "Whoa whoa whoa! Take it easy. He's not gonna bite you. He's not. Let's just all calm down, okay. Look," he glances back toward the way he entered, "I ain't got much time. I..." he looks to them both, realizing he's not gonna be getting through to them any time soon so he rises and steps out from in front of his chair and pushes it in. As he places his hands on the back of it, he leans over, "Just remember what I said." Glancing one more time, he tips his hat to them both and moves to the kitchen to retrieve the cups.
A man is standing at the other door, holding a dagger by its blade. He gapes at Braddon, startled, for a long moment, then says belligerently, "Aye, you can tell me where your half-height friend is. We know he's about."
Braddon looks at the dagger the man is holding and rests a hand meaningfully on his own masterwork short sword.
"Make me."
Behind Gristav, the door at the top of the stairs opens, and Beltias Kreun emerges, a bottle in his hand. He smiles as he approaches the half-elf. "There a problem? I trust you found your bird-keeping friend. He's not ... wandering again, is he?" He peers past Gris into the storage room inquisitively.
"Ah, Father Kreun!", Gristav greets, gregariously, hoping he's heard in the room beyond. Gris' eyes flit past Braddon and back to the Father, face falling. "He's... enthusiastic, my bodyguard, and thought your man there to be stalking, rather than spying. Which I should say, is fair enough!", Gristav punchlines. "...Here in your home. Yes, Padraig is well, and though duty does delay, I'll relay to the glorious Jaelle news of the elder's evident absence of ill effect owing his erstwhile innundation. And owed to your good grace, Father. Such is evident from the birder's balcony, with your neighborhood turning out, turning to your kindness. You do your Lady honor."
"I hope we did no dishonor, rushing down the rooftop? There was a boy, the boy who left as we entered, being... well, it's debatable, either pressed or chased for theft, or for spying on impressment, or all three in some mix. In any case, a boy in some hazard. We convinced his pursuer- his captor, by then- that his wisest course was out of Rotgut, sans captive cargo. It seemed the figurative oxen in the hole, I hope it's forgiven."
"Forgiven, and more." Glancing as if to be certain of Braddon's absence, Gristav says in lowered voice,"I spoke of duty. I've taken on the duty of asking of you, of your Lady, really, and in cause of Justice and Mercy, both... a miracle of the sort more often seen. Might we speak of such? As unseemly as such hire is, it is in good cause, Father, and I've no doubt, put to good cause...?"
The men you followed into the kitchen have acquired wooden bowls from a stack on the floor and lined up at the stove, where a middle-aged halfling woman is holding court with a ladle from atop a stool: Mumsy, no doubt. Her graying hair is tied up not very tidily in a white kerchief, and she is wearing a stained apron made for a much taller woman, which hangs down past her toes over the seat of the stool.
Among the disorganized cookware and utensils, you see some dented tankards on the far end of the kitchen. Unless you intend to drink with Beltias Kreun from a wooden gruel bowl, those look like your best bet.
"I spoke of duty. I've taken on the duty of asking of you, of your Lady, really, and in cause of Justice and Mercy, both... a miracle of the sort more often seen. Might we speak of such? As unseemly as such hire is, it is in good cause, Father, and I've no doubt, put to good cause...?"
"A miracle?" the priest smiles. "If I could call down many of those, we'd have more coin to feed and house more poor unfortunates and fewer leaks in the roof to drip on us when it rains. Come along downstairs with me, and tell me about your cause. I was just going to have a drink with your friend, Mr. ... Kane, is it? Tell me, how long have you known him?"
Braddon looks at the dagger the man is holding and rests a hand meaningfully on his own masterwork short sword.
"Make me."
The man with the dagger casts his eye to the wall separating him from the corridor, as you both hear Father Kreun encouraging Gristav to join him downstairs, then back to you with an inviting smile. He playfully fingers his blade in a way that says he'd be glad to oblige you once any witnesses are out of earshot.
Taking in the scenery, Snake can only shake his head at how terrible this place truly is. He walks over to where the tankards are, taking two of the 'best' looking ones he can find. He looks to the halfling woman and the formed line, wondering why they all live as they do and choose to do nothing about it. He grumbles under his breath at it all as he begins to head back.
"A miracle?" the priest smiles. "If I could call down many of those, we'd have more coin to feed and house more poor unfortunates and fewer leaks in the roof to drip on us when it rains. Come along downstairs with me, and tell me about your cause. I was just going to have a drink with your friend, Mr. ... Kane, is it? Tell me, how long have you known him?"
"We needn't many, Father, just the one. And if such is yet not Given to you, I should speak no more upon it. Such matters are delicate, at the best of times. I would hate to turn to some charlatan's seance, when a proper priest's prayer, even paid to purpose... But, if in Her Wisdom, such is not to be had... let us say no more. That's the proper path."
"It was on a proper path, I met Mr. Kane, warning him 'ware of the woes of the way, literally. Much as I tried figuratively with your lad, and, truth told, with Padraig... Does it seem me a busybody, or Jack at Judges? I don't feel it thus; I'm better than no man- only perhaps, the man I was before -however I might smile and scrub... There are scars only seen in our mirrors, is that not how the phrase goes?"
Turning to spy the boy, Phillip's eyes narrow and harden at the sight. He thinks for a few moments of how best to handle it... running a gamut of options useful and otherwise before settling upon one somewhat in the midst. Sounding in a voice that should carry the alley without passing through to the building opposite Phillip grates "Careful boy... You'll find this mark neither drunk nor kind... so best you move along."
Startled, the boy freezes mid-sneak. Recovering quickly, however, he composes himself and replies in a mildly indignant tone, "Not at all, sir. I was worried you might be ill and in need of assistance. It's not safe to sleep in these alleyways, what with pressers and brigands about." He brandishes his half-forgotten stick heroically.
As you are turning to exit the way you came in, the halfling at the stove suddenly flings out her arm, spattering hot gruel from the ladle in all directions. "You!" she barks. "No line-jumping; no stealing!" Only after she has issued her ultimatum does she turn from the stove to look at you; then a shock of recognition runs over her face. "You!? What the--? Is Marzo here?"
Another confused look appears as before - when Beltias linked him to Marzo as well. These people seem to know me. What is it that I'm apparently a part of? And do I REALLY want to know? Or is this some elaborate scheme from a possible enemy that I thought I left behind? Or THOUGHT I'd left behind? This sucks. "What is it with you people? I don't know... how do you... why do you all..." He stops, frustrated. Sighing, he relents in his explanation, figuring she's as probably about as easy to convince as Beltias was. Rubbing his eyes, "You gotta be kiddin' me. No. Marzo is not here. I came alone. And these tankards are for Beltias. Unless I need to tell him that you preferred he didn't have them? It's up to you, lady."
"We needn't many, Father, just the one. And if such is yet not Given to you, I should speak no more upon it. Such matters are delicate, at the best of times. I would hate to turn to some charlatan's seance, when a proper priest's prayer, even paid to purpose... But, if in Her Wisdom, such is not to be had... let us say no more. That's the proper path."
"It was on a proper path, I met Mr. Kane, warning him 'ware of the woes of the way, literally. Much as I tried figuratively with your lad, and, truth told, with Padraig... Does it seem me a busybody, or Jack at Judges? I don't feel it thus; I'm better than no man- only perhaps, the man I was before -however I might smile and scrub... There are scars only seen in our mirrors, is that not how the phrase goes?"
"A recent acquaintance, then?" the priest interprets from Gristav's meanderings. "What of your bodyguard?" he nods to the door Braddon stepped through. "Also a new acquisition? He wasn't with you on Wealday. A prudent hire, I admit, when venturing into Rotgut; I'm pleased to see you took my cautions to heart."
"I took your caution to mind, but I do try not to take fear to heart. It was thus I was without him when the sea introduced Padraig to me, and to Jaelle, and us to you; a rare day for presentations of persons with the presence of permanence, a good day, indeed, was Wealday." Gristav smiles.
"Well, in absence the hoped heirophantic help, I'll have to risk the appearance of abruptness, in hope of making this day, also, as good a day as possible."
"Braddon, are you nearly done, there?", Gristav asks gently toward the part-opened door. "A drink, with the Father, and we need then be off..."