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Like the newly ordained priest whose first confessional came from a fiend, that was how Willie felt in listening to the orcling pour out her everything. That was to say he felt more than a little overwhelmed. Gangsters and extortion? Fire and perdition? It was all foreign land to the gent, trained as he was on an easy existence of making merry followed by silk pajamas followed by lunch for breakfast - preferably in bed.
Foreign but for the orphan bit; different sorts as they were, on that count the two were siblings on technicality if not in spirit.
Still, one had attended enough family beanos to know how to nod and look sympathetic when others spoke. Not that said sympathy was difficult to fake at Dare's tale; the young woman clearly hadn't led the most charmed life. It was perhaps this that prompted him to offer a seeming non sequitur as she listed her supposedly meagre 'talents'.
"And these," Willie said in reaching for his breast pocket. "These are alright."
It was a small wooden disk he held between his fingers, pyrographed with the image of a butterfly. She had flung this particular art piece at him herself, and it had resided in some pocket or another of his since. The city boy was at a loss for what to say to the decidedly cheerless woman come the end of her little autobiography, but hoped this token served as some evidence that she was in fact more than 'bluster, menace and arson'. An ounce of demonstration had a way of outweighing a ton of explanation.
All the better that the dear appeared at least somewhat heartened by the group's assurances for he had precious few such explanations to give. Well, not to Dare. Conrad on the other hand was in obvious need of his guidance.
"I d-d-don't have mutual interest."
"I fear denying it does no good, Conrad, old boy," Willie said with good humor contrasting a sagacious shaking of the head. "For you see, love is much like those extra pounds accrued during the winter feasts: either you punish yourself rigorously to rid yourself of it, or it becomes part of you for the rest of your days. Ghastly, ghastly stuff!" He looked to his patient with sympathy. "But you may take heart in knowing that should you wish to pitch the woo to darling Jo, then I shall be happy to guide you every step of the way."
Kendra Deverin, Abstalar Zantus, and Belor Hemlock listen to Dare's story with varying degrees of sympathy, surprise, and, in Mayor Derevin's case, recognition. Before any of them can say anything, the other heroes, Dare's friends by action if not name, rally to her and assure her that they'd stand by her. Before things can stray too far off the topic at hand, Sheriff Hemlock cuts into the conversation while the mayor tries, and fails, to hide her disbelieving smirk at Willie's offer to be Conrad's mentor in love.
"It seems that you have a plan," he says. "I think Cailyn's idea is a sound one, and it seems that she and Willie know them. If you are ever in need of help, come by the garrison or find a guard. They'll know to give you a hand." His brown eyes focus on her face, his expression hard as he adds, "I promise you this, as long as I have a say about it, you're not going to wind up face down in a ditch or the Turandarok. I know you put yourself in harm's way fighting goblins and again by even telling us what Jubrayl wants you to do. That takes courage, and a good heart to do that for the sake of others, even strangers. I protect good people, Miss Dare."
Dare gets absolutely the wrong image in her mind until she realizes the sheriff is talking about the river, and her momentarily bemused facial expression resolves.
To the rest, she nods. "Okay, we have a plan about the merchant girls, sure. You all need to figure out who put that ladder there though."
To the others she queries, "Is it a good idea we all descend on them at once? Or are they going to feel crowded? And we can't get distracted by flirtation, neither." She winks at Conrad. "But if Princess says it's alright then..."
"We'll try," Sheriff Hemlock says, but his tone and the grimace he wears show his doubts about the odds of success there. "I just hope they're still in Sandpoint."
Scrapeknee looks about, and while he doesn't have time to talk to Dani like he hoped, he does give her a wave if he sees her
With your conversation with Father Zantus, Mayor Deverin, and Sheriff Hemlock done, you all head to the White Deer for lunch with Joanna Whitehall and Tera Flinders. The two young women are just coming down the stairs from their rooms when you arrive. They look a little surprised to see all of you, and not just Dare, but they both smile.
"I see you brought some friends," Joanna says to Dare before looking about for a big enough table. "Will over there do," she asks once she's spotted a table that can seat all of you. After a few minutes of everyone getting settled and making their orders, Joanna turns her attention to Dare.
"So, what's going on? I thought it was going to be you, me, and Tera," Joanna says, a look of worry on her face.
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Cailyn looked over in fondness of her nook of a table, getting bathed lightly in the golden rays of the day and close enough to the kitchens that smell caressed as much as beckoned.
But not today.
"We are here for support and curiosity, dear Jo, and a snack." she raised her hand to one of Scrapeknee's cousins to indicate one of everything for the table. "Odd activities are swimming around this small town, and we..." she gestured to include the entire table "... are caught in the flow." settling her hands and napkin in her lap, she sees the worry in her cousin's face "Please do not think the worst before hearing the content of Ms. Ashborn's discussion. And open mind the willingness to use it benefits us all..." Cailyn frowned lightly, suddenly realizing she did not know where that phrase came from, but no matter.
She looked at the half orc and nodded in Jo's direction.
Dare looks sheepishly, as much as a green, flame tattooed, small-but-pointy-tusked young punk can look sheepish, at Jo. It is a remarkably different performance from her stoic delivery to Jo in the church. She waits till Joana and Tera sit and then sits.
"Well, you heard what I said earlier, and you're the one who asked me to meet you to talk about it, so actually I'd like to hear what you have to say before you go on. Whatever's said here won't go beyond this table." She looks at the others. "Right?"
Scrapeknee nods, though he is pretty sure his Uncle would be alarmed if a 'what happens at the White Deer stays at the White deer' attitude became a selling point.
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"I fear denying it does no good, Conrad, old boy," Willie said with good humor contrasting a sagacious shaking of the head. "For you see, love is much like those extra pounds accrued during the winter feasts: either you punish yourself rigorously to rid yourself of it, or it becomes part of you for the rest of your days. Ghastly, ghastly stuff! But you may take heart in knowing that should you wish to pitch the woo to darling Jo, then I shall be happy to guide you every step of the way."
"It's not ex-xactly love," Conrad protests - though, almost immediately, he realises how that might not help his case, especially in front of respectable people like Father Zantus. "It's f-flirt," he quickly adds, less his intentions might be misconstrued.
"And we can't get distracted by flirtation, neither."
Conrad looks about to say something, but then he renounces. At least she used the right word. That's probably how you could recognise your true friends in such a situation.
He honestly couldn't fathom why everyone seemed so keen on seeing either him or Joanna get down on one knee, as it were. It wasn't as if this looked like it could go anywhere beyond mild flirtation. Gosh, even the word made him cringe.
At the White Deer:
Conrad meekly greets Joanna and Tera, and plops down on a chair. He carefully avoids Joanna's gaze, instead staring at his own hands resting on his lap.
Willie fluttered along with the group like the social butterfly he was, not in the least discouraged by the broad-shouldered chappie's sheepish distinctions between love and simply giving someone the glad eye. "The tea cup emits steam, the dance hall music, dear fellow!" he smiled with the keen amatory insight of the perpetual bachelor.
A cheery wave over one shoulder signaled their exit. "Toodles, Aunt Kendra!"
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The gent's pity-tinged amusement only found fresh soil at the White Deer. He had seen Conrad bludgeon goblins to mulch; seeing him cowering before the young woman now only confirmed his diagnosis: he had the poison in his veins, the poor rube!
And yet where her conduct inspired knowing grins, Joanna's words wiped said smile clean off Willie's mug.
"So, what's going on? I thought it was going to be you, me, and Tera."
"What?" he cried, his flabbers well and truly gasted. "It's true, then? You're in cahoots with wanton crooks? Tera, Jo, dear old things, say it ain't so!"
This last bit wasn't exactly bleated with any degree of subtlety, but the city boy couldn't help it; these two splendid lasses, criminals? This was horrible! "Aroden's ghost, what have you gotten yourselves into? Think what your parents would say!"
Think what righteous fury said parents would rain down on him if they found out young Wilberforce knew and failed to stop the duo. These bally things had a way of always passing the proverbial buck unto him.
Joanna and Tera relax a little, at least until one Wilberforce Whyte-Vetillus all but accuses them of colluding with ne'er-do-wells, rogues, rakes, and other such ruffians. They look at each others, clearly confused before they turn their attention back to Willie.
"Wilberforce, I haven't even the merest inkling of an idea of what you're talking about," Joanna says.
"How much have you had to drink today," Tera asks, her tone rather sharp. "I would have thought that even you couldn't be this addled-brained. Where did you even come by a notion like this?"
"I think he's referring to me. He means no offense." She shrugs. Though he does need to settle down." She gives Willie a hard stare.
She says to Joanna, "Look, they all insisted on coming. I'm sorry. But we need to get this over with." Good lord, all she wants is to get this f@$&ing over with. "You heard what I said to you before. About offering you protection services." Just in case somehow she's forgotten. "It was pretty straightforward. So what did you want to discuss that had to wait until now?" She nods to Joanna. Ball's in your court.
Without thinking about it, Scrapeknee starts to clean up a nearby table while the others talk. He WORKS here after all... even if he's not supposed to be doing so NOW.
"Firstly, that's unkind of you, Tera," a visibly flummoxed Willie nevertheless interjected, one finger raised in a schoolboy's petition; though his confusion was great - more so than what was usual - it had to be stayed in favor of this point of propriety. "Secondly, I haven't had a drop beyond my morning constitutional. And thirdly, er, no, I didn't mean you!" He turned to the orcling.
"Well, perhaps you after all. You say you're part of the rotters. Or were. I think." The gent grimaced in thought. "But the gangsters, these Sczarni fellows, they're who I mean. You said dear Tera, Jo and them were all in the proverbial bed together. Didn't you? Which I didn't believe a jot of! Until now when they clearly know you, except..."
Willie frankly didn't know whether he was on his head or his heels anymore.
"Wilberforce. Shut up. Let her talk. I'm telling you once."
The amber eyes actually glow.
It's a good thing that the White Deer is not very crowded as Dare's eyes flash and the mood grows far more tense. Heat rolls off the sorceress' shoulders like a cloak. Tera, who'd been about to say more, closes her mouth and shrinks into her chair as silence falls over the table.
"I wanted to tell you that you owed Tera or I nothing and ask you why you felt like you had to serve us," Joanna says after a moment. "It would seem that there's a lot more to talk about."
Tera looks to Joanna as she finishes speaking and takes in a deep breath before quietly asking Dare, "Um, Miss? A-Are you-- er, were you Sczarni?"
Cailyn watched the discussion back and forth, considered kicking Wilberforce in his shin (or attempting to), but the blurted revelations Was advancing the discussion.
"She may have been, but if she was, she wishes to remove herself without any of the typical... paperwork?" Cailyn interjects, finding herself patting the half orc's arm, lightly of course, in hope Ms. Ashborn doesn't explode at Tera's question.
She does realize paperwork is not the word to use there, but screaming burning pools of blood doesn't seem appropriate now that the food has arrived.
Selecting a skewer of spiced chicken and three spoonfuls of a bean dish, she continues "An admirable desire, don't you think?" question to pull, lesson 4 in the chapter of Smiling Interrogation.
After the cousins nod, because anyone who whispered that question would nod, she hopes, "Do you have any idea why members of the Sczarni, would want you protected?"
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Conrad is not at all at ease with the idea of questioning the two women. Much like Scrapeknee (who seemed to have found the perfect pretext to walk away), he'd rather be somewhere else entirely.
He does attempt to catch a glance of Tera and Joanna's expressions, and see if they looked as surprised as they sounded. That's not easy to do when you're trying to keep your eyes downcast at the same time.
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Dare nods mutely in answer to Tera's question, and is happy to let Cailyn take the lead from there.
She does not mind the tap on the arm, and she notices she doesn't mind the tap on the arm, and she minds that she doesn't mind, and that-- no,there's other things to focus on right now.
She awaits their response.
They do seem as surprised as they sound. Although it's clear that surprise is quickly turning into worry.
Tera's cheeks turn brilliant crimson as she flushes with embarrassment at having committed yet another faux pas aimed at Dare. Thankfully, Joanna is there to cover for the blushing mage.
"I see," Joanna says, buying herself a moment to process what she's just heard.
"I can't think of a reason that they'd want us protected. Both of our families have their black sheep, but the Flinders and the Whitehalls are known for being fair and honest in their dealings. It's a reputation that's hard to earn and to keep, so we avoid dealing with the Sczarni as much as we can. Because of that, I can't think of a reason, and that worries me a lot more than if I could," she says, her brow furrowed by worry. She looks from Cailyn to Dare and takes a deep breath to steel her nerves before speaking again.
"Dare, what can I do to help you," she asks.
It was an unfamiliar expression that tugged at the chap's face, all uncharitable folds, what with his features usually being open as a Sarenite temple. But then young Wilberforce felt rather justified in being a mite peeved at the orcling. Being told to shush was not foreign to him, but the accompanying threat was entirely beyond the pale, especially in deliberating her own accusation against this darling duo he held near and dear. An accusation, mind you, they now refuted wholesale!
Of course, he'd never doubted them for a second.
Willie shook his head. "Well, I can't speak for anyone else, but I'll take my apology amber-brown and served in a tumbler."
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Dare remains focused on the two women and Cailyn's genteel interrogation. She blurts aloud the thought that comes to her. "Hmm. So Jubrayl f&~&ed it up then."
She holds up her finger a moment, knowing she's jumped a few steps ahead (as she is wont).
Dare takes a few moments to process and organize some thoughts. "So, the night I met you two, a few things happened. First, you started asking me all about who I was and what I did. Before she," she waves to Tera (whose embarrassment Dare clearly considers not her problem, as she has her own anxieties to worry about), "demanded I perform for you like a street busker," which is totally what happened (in Dare's head), "and all of that gave me the wrong impression you saw yourselves as my superiors to start with." She pauses. "Not to pick at old wounds, but the toffs here, who I'd yet to see their better points as I've done since, had already been picking on me that night, bringing up crimes I'd been framed for that I didn't want to talk about. All that and a few ales made me think everyone was after me and put me in a bad mood already." She pauses, to look at both women, "Which, to be fair, you couldn't have known. I think I got the wrong idea, is what I'm saying. What happened after made it worse."
"I have... 'Varisian family members' back in Magnimar, yes." She does the whole air quote thing. "But I'd left Magnimar, and apart from a very loose and recent acquaintance with the Vhiskis here, I've no involvement in an Sczarni activity here. So, it's weird when, right after... like right after I yelled at you and left the table, a guy I've never met pops out of the woodwork and confronts me before I even can finish sitting down. His name was Iulian, he was obviously Sczarni. He tries to ply me with liquor that's a bare step up from turpentine, and lets me know he's concerned that I popped off at you and that he wants to fix it."
She spreads her hands. "So. From where I'm sitting, this is what had happened so far: you show up, start showing interest in my skills and asking me what I'm good at, ask me for a demonstration, then when I get mad at you, a Sczarni, who obviously had been eavesdropping on the whole thing, immediately intervenes. As I didn't know either him or you, it seemed like he knew you and was jumping to your defense. Which made it seem, in retrospect, like your asking me what I did for a living was you checking up on me and he was making sure I didn't cheese off local allies."
"Anyway... I brushed him off. But..." She shakes her head. "Then I head back to where I was saying, the Fatman's Feedbag, run by Jubrayl Vhiski. And Iulian is there with Jubrayl, and both of them more or less tell me I'm to make it up to you and offer to protect you. What Jubrayl didn't say, or at least I don't remember him saying, is 'Don't tell them I sent you.' But," she holds up a finger. "To be fully honest, thanks to Ameiko's tongueless f!++twit of a bartender, I was drunk off my arse when they gave me these instructions. So there is a distinct possibility I misunderstood him or didn't get the instructions straight. BUT, I was not drunk earlier when Iulian came to defend your honor, and I do remember very clearly Jubrayl asked me to look after you, and the way this all happened put together, it seemed clear to me he was doing this from the perspective of wanting to do a favor who was already in with the Sczarni. Indeed, maybe even fearful of angering someone with powerful connections and wanting to be sure I hadn't done them any damage. And as I am a loud, stupid, giant sword-swinging flame-thrower, I had no reason to think he was wanting anything from me other than to work for you openly as a Sczarni enforcer. So I made my offer to you, making clear Jubrayl had sent me, because I thought he wanted you to know he'd asked me to be your guard, and that you would obviously understand what that meant."
She waves to the others in the room. "It came up in conversation as we've been dealing with the aftermath of the goblin attack that I believed you were in cahoots with the Sczarni. You know, someone as terrible and awful as someone like me." She nods towards Cailyn and Willie. "Willie here wouldn't have it and is still sore I brought it up at all, obviously, but he also would defend a serial murderer if said serial murderer bought him a half-decent Old Fashioned, so honorable though he might be, that on its own sadly wasn't adequate 'character witness,' as Mr. Frallino's barrister would put it. But the others suggested," she is not bringing up the Mayor and the Sherriff by name for now, "That there may have been a different story going on and I wasn't seeing it. That Jubrayl was wanting me to spy on you, or wanting you to owe him a favor or something, or wanting me to actually make you vulnerable so he could, I dunno, kidnap you or something. On that I'm not actually clear, as it wasn't my idea, and I've no clue what Jubrayl might want from you if you aren't already 'friends of the family,' so to speak."
She lays her hands on the table, palms down. "Now. Could be you do, as merchants, have ties to Sczarni, knowingly or unknowingly. But given all that's been said, let's take on good faith that you don't, at least on the knowingly part. I f#%~ed up in drawing the line between you and Jubrayl, and I'm sorry, to the two of you, Joanna and Tera, about that, but I hope you can at least see how I got that idea in my head. Anyway, as I said," she lifts one hand and whirls her finger in the air, "If Jubrayl was trying to be sneaky and get closer to you, he also f!#@ed it up. By not giving me clearer instructions and not waiting to do so till after I was sober. No, scratch that. He was a f@$%ing moron for asking me to do it at all. I knew he'd ask me to help him out at some point. But I figured it'd be something simple and sensible, like convincing delinquents to get up to date on their dock fees or something. This ugly, scarred mess," she points to her face, which the author would assert is in fact rakishly handsome, "does not do subtle, does not do sneaky, and," she holds up a clenched fist, "absolutely does not, in no uncertain terms, does it feed innocent women who've done nothing wrong to the wolves. My boss in Magnimar knew not to ask me to do s*!+ like that because he'd lose me as an asset one way or the other, and Vhiski should have known better."
She leans back. "Anyway, that's two exposition dumps I've done today and in less than an hour, and I'm not doing any more, so if none of that made any sense, I can't help you. I just hope any of that made any sense at all so we can go back to Caitlyn's question: do you have any idea what Jubrayl might want from you? Information? Favors? Kidnap you for ransom? Personal slaves? Something to do with the ruins you said you were interested in?"
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"I just hope any of that made any sense at all so we can go back to Caitlyn's question: do you have any idea what Jubrayl might want from you? Information? Favors? Kidnap you for ransom? Personal slaves?"
Conrad can't help but twitch. But he doesn't say anything.
Judging by what Dare says about the Sczarni, there's little doubt they absolutely could stoop that low.
Joanna and Tera listen to Dare as she lays out what happened and why she acted as she had. At the end of it, they both look more than a little stunned, and Tera looks as if she wants nothing more than to crawl into a hole somewhere and disappear. Joanna takes a moment to gather her composure before speaking again.
"I don't envy you," she says quietly. "I don't know if I would have the courage to follow what I believe is right in your place. As for what this Jubrayl Vhiski fellow wants from us, I don't know. We are scions of two great mercantile families. He could want any of those things, though I think favors, information, or trying to ransom us are more likely from what I know of Varisian culture."
"I doubt it'd be about our, well, my interest in the ruins of the Old Light here," Tera pipes up. "History and archeology are hobbies of mine, you could say. I'm not on the level of a scholar like Master Brodent Quink or Lady Shelia Heidmarch." She hesitates for a moment before forcing her self to look Dare in the eyes and steeling her nerves. "M-Miss Ashborn, I'm sorry about the other night. I-- I lost all sense when I learned you could use magic and I wanted to see it. I didn't think about the problems it might cause you."
She looks down at the tabletop as her voice trails off.
"I-- I just wanted... to.. let you... know."
Dare blinks, takes it in, and absorbs it. Does it go through the anger bits of her brain or the compassion bits? Maybe a bit of both, but when she speaks again, she returns Tera's look in the eyes. "Apology accepted."
"Maybe Vhiski has no interest in the ruins, but they might be important." She looks over to Scrapeknee. "If she's studying an 'Old Light,' maybe this has to do with the 'coming darkness."
She leans back, back to Joanna and Tera. "Before we change the subject though, I'm going to tell Jubrayl you refused my service, which you did at the start of this talk. And that I'll not be doing him any further favors. Come what may. As for the rest of the mystery, it's up to those of you with brains to figure it out." She looks at Cailyn as if to suggest she take things back up, and silently prays to every God that might be listening that she does not have to do any further talking herself.
Cailyn seems content to chew as things were settled. Herr blue eyes bouncing back and forth, and she does actually open her mouth a few times, considering objecting or interjecting or something, but she shuts it again as the conversation continues.
When Ms. Ashborn looks to her, she quickly finishes her bite, and pushes the remaining uneaten seaweed wraps in the half-orcs direction, and turns her attention to her cousins.
"This Jubrayl has shown interest in you, so could you tell us anything about the business you are here for?" she paused, considering as she thought outloud "If it isn't you directly, it could be that he wanted someone he believed was beholden to him near whoever you were doing business with. 'Protection' could be an attempt at information gathering on a rival."
Scrapeknee keeps cleaning, but the flood of information has him not sure WHAT to say.
Both Joanna and Tera look embarrassed as Cailyn asks what they were in Sandpoint for.
"Honestly," Joanna says, squirming in her chair like a schoolgirl having to explain herself to the headmistress, "we came to see the Swallowtail Festival and the Old Light."
"We did talk to a few people about trading their wares, but we really didn't have anything planned," Tera adds, sounding like someone trying to explain that they really weren't playing hooky or shirking their chores.
"But we were mostly planning to goof off," Joanna admits as she slumps in her chair.
"Yeah, we were," Tera agrees as she joins her friend in defeat.
Listening to Conrad, the two of them shake their heads.
"Old Light? We don't know much beyond that it was an old Thassalonian light house at the north edge of town," Tera answers. "Brodent Quink knows more, though he's got some strange theories."
Cailyn seems surprised at the admission, then colors a little. It sounds a lot like what she is doing. While she has been sent here to decide her future, all she has been doing it reading, which would be a Lovely future, she thinks.
Sigh...
She sipped the tea that had appeared with the food. The service at the Deer was impeccable. Nodding to Mr. Mendelson, she says "We should ask him if anyone has been showing more interest than normal in his studies... besides Jo, Tera, and myself."
Looking back at her cousins, "There is still a chance they are looking to get leverage on your families in some way, so..." her cousins knew how to protect themselves significantly better than 'mousey little Cailyn' she knew. "... stay alert?"
"Oh, and if anyone asks after protection or Ms. Ashborn, loudly claim not needing or wanting the services of anyone in that regard, even someone as capable of her"
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"Wait, who's Brodent Quink, and why were his parents cruel enough to name him that?"
Cailyn brightens "He is a rather unappreciated well of bottomless knowledge on ancient Thassilon, with amazing potential..." she was about to say plot twists, as she sees history as a story, but changes it agree with Tera "... theories. My favorite is mite madness."
She could expound on the wonderful suggestion of fey induced insanity in the very Headed little humanoids, but she realizes that is not the point.
"Scrapeknee sent me to him at the Curious Goblin. Is he there most days?" she raises her voice to the young man who was keeping busy with table cleaning.
"Usually," Scrapeknee answers. THIS he understands, "He does love his books."
"We'll be careful," Joanna promises Cailyn as Tera nods in agreement when the bookish young woman cautions that they be alert for any danger. When Cailyn adds her suggestion about announcing loudly that need no protection if it's offered or anyone asks about Dare, Tera glances at the sorceress and looks a little abashed as she replies.
"Actually," she says hesitantly, "I was hoping that we could still be friends despite what has happened."
As the conversation moves to seeing Brodent Quink, Joanna and Tera relax a little, even chuckling at Dare's question regarding his rather unfortunate name.
"He should be there this afternoon," Tera adds, "We were going to meet with him to talk about some of the artwork we saw on the Old Light."
"Would there be complaints about us joining you, d'you think? I always thought he was kind of a crank, to be honest, but this historical stuff keeps coming up." Lita can so easily picture it backfiring, the whole group of them descending on a single curmudgeon all at once, but it's not the first time his name's come up in their investigations now.
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Dare's eyebrows raise, perplexed at Tera's offer of friendship. "Whaf-fwhy-?" She swallows a bite of seaweed wrap. "Right. I get you are sincere. Daft, but sincere. But if I'm gonna tell Jubrayl his plan isn't going to work, which I need to do, we probably shouldn't be seen holding hands just yet, right?"
She looks over to Lita. "Maybe while you all go over to Quink, I go have a chat with Jubrayl. Then meet you all at the Dragon later." She waves to Conrad. "Don't suppose you'd come with me? I know I'm not as nice to lay eyes on as some in this room,"--she does not look at anyone in particular when she says this--"but you need to check out of the Feedbag anyways, don't you?"
He hears of meeting at the dragon later... Hurtful He thinks softly, but then he realizes while here he's been more at 'work' than a help. Yes, maybe he will be more of a team mate at the Dragon.
A bit of a worried frown forms with the group's parting, which is odd since they really were not a group, just a collection of people who happen to be near each other at a particular time and then were visited in their dreams by gods.
The plan was good though, so Cailyn waves down a Scrapeknee cousin and orders sandwiches to go "Two baskets, please. Ms. Ashborn and Mr. Mendelson will need one of their own."
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A bit of a worried frown forms with the group's parting, which is odd since they really were not a group, just a collection of people who happen to be near each other at a particular time and then were visited in their dreams by gods.
The plan was good though, so Cailyn waves down a Scrapeknee cousin and orders sandwiches to go "Two baskets, please. Ms. Ashborn and Mr. Mendelson will need one of their own."
Sarla was snooping nearby to see if any gems of musical tips fell from Willie, as well as working, so she responds quickly, "Right away! Let me know if there's anything else you want."
Unless given more instructions she moves quickly to get those for Cailyn. Humming softly as she practices her own musical talents, perhaps working on lyrics in her head.
Scrapeknee watches his cousin go, "She might be serious about this music stuff."
Tera nods in understanding as Dare says they should probably keep their distance for the moment. Sarla quickly returns with the sandwiches, several in one basket and a few in a smaller one for Dare and Conrad. There's also some snacks and treats in both, a gift from Scrapeknee's cousins and aunt.
"Here ya go. Momma says come back soon," she tells the group with a smile.
Lunch acquired and a new potential lead to follow, the group of heroes, plus two, split in two. Dare and Conrad head to the docks and the Fatman's Feedbag while the others follow Joanna and Tera to the Curious Goblin.
Dare and Conrad walk in to see several of the place's patrons stirring and groaning from their previous night of boozing. Iulian, the gold-toothed Varisian who had talked to Dare at the Rusty Dragon after she'd snapped at Tera the other night sits at the bar with his elbows braced on it and his fingers rubbing his temples as the bartender, a taciturn half-orc named Brox, makes a Hair-o'-the-Dog for him. Jubrayl is no where to be seen at the moment.
Chask Haladan, the old man who owns the Curious Goblin, grins broadly as he sees the six of you walk in. The smallish building is filled with bookcases that reach from floor to ceiling and whose shelves are ladened with tomes and scrolls on almost any subject one can imagine. A small nook in a back corner holds a few large, comfortable (as Cailyn can attest) chairs. One of which has a woman dressed in simple linen robes tied with a cord at her waist. A few strands of white contrast with the dark sheen of her black hair. Scrapeknee and Lita recognize her as the master of the House of Blue Stones, Sabyl Sorn, an Irorian monk that took over the small shrine to the deity when her father died seven years ago.
"Welcome, welcome," Chask greets the newcomers, his voice a pleasant baritone that even in his obvious age hasn't lost much of its smoothness nor its power. "An, Miss Tera and Miss Josephina, Brodent isn't here just yet, but I believe he'll be along shortly," he tells the two young women. "And while I have had the pleasure of meeting Miss Cailyn, I don't believe I've had the pleasure of formally being introduced to the rest of you. I am Chask Haladan, proprietor of the Curious Goblin and a lover of books since I was a wee lad. Whatever you are interested in, I'm sure I can find something that will catch your interest. Ah, but forgive an old man his ramblings. May I have the honor of knowing your names?"
Tera nods in understanding as Dare says they should probably keep their distance for the moment. Sarla quickly returns with the sandwiches, several in one basket and a few in a smaller one for Dare and Conrad. There's also some snacks and treats in both, a gift from Scrapeknee's cousins and aunt.
"Here ya go. Momma says come back soon," she tells the group with a smile.
"She's sweet. Thank her for me will you? And thank you too." And he joins the crew heading towards the curious goblin.
"Oh you should remember me sir, though it's been awhile. OjWoj "Scrapeknee" Viskalai? I was shorter the last time I came in here , at least, regularly. Glad you and Miss Cailyn hit it off. She likes books a great deal too."
He inclines his head respectfully to Sabyl as well.
She nods at Scrapeknee, but says, "We'll see if the big man's in first."
She calls to Brox. "Oy, Uncle Jubrayl around?"
If he says yes, she goes to where he directs her.
She then drops to normal volume, "I need a word, verisol. Now, if you please."
"May I have the honor of knowing your names?"
"Hm?"
Willie looked up from perusing the prose peddler's shelves, hoping - vainly so - that the old chap carried the local newspapers. He wasn't in the habit of reading these, but the comic section was always good for a lark. Coolidge was his favorite, that mad mutt!
"Ah, Wilberforce Whyte-Vetillus, Esq. Please, call me Willie!" The smile was as broad as the handshake was genial, the gent making an effort to outshine what sunlight lit up the store. "How do you do, sir?"
Brox smirks as Iulian flinches at the sound of Dare's raised voice. The Varisian gives her a death-glare completely at odds with his normally convivial personality.
"Yeah, he's in. Upstairs, to the right, door at the end of the hall," Brox answers as he slams the concoction he'd been making when Dare and Conrad walked in on the bar in front of Iulian. "Had company last night, if you know what I mean. Wild party last night."
Brox gestures around at the hungover and sleeping people scattered around the common room. Many are sailors, but just as many are Sczarni thugs. If there was a party, it's a minor miracle that most of the furniture is intact.
Chask squints at Scrapeknee, then smiles as he recognizes the young man.
"Yes, I do remember you, and your mother. I regret not spending more time speaking with her when I had the chance. It's a pleasure to welcome you back after so many years, Scrapeknee," He says with genuine welcome before Willie introduces himself.
"Ah, yes. The infamous Wilberforce Whyte-Vetillus." Chask's grin and amused tone take much of the sting from the words. "I have heard of your family and of yourself. Your aunt, Lady Arabella, and I have exchanged a few letters over the decades after I helped her back when I still had a taste for adventure. Tell me, is she well," the old man asks Willie. "I daresay that she seemed out of sorts in her last letter to me. Something about a five-thousand crown fine one of her nephews managed to incur. She never mentioned a name, but it's clear she was at her wit's end with the sorry fellow."
After greeting the owner like a long lost friend, Cailyn starts browsing. An act which consists of bright eyed consideration, light touches along a worn spine, then practically cooing as she opens them to scan the graceful lettering.
Meaning she ignores the conversation in the wake of literary obsession.
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""Yeah, he's in. Upstairs, to the right, door at the end of the hall. Had company last night, if you know what I mean. Wild party last night."
It'd take either an idiot or someone very naive indeed not to know what Brox means - and Conrad is neither. It does nothing to deter him. Iulian might not be in the best of moods, but as for debauchery, he's seen his fair share. "Let's g-go," he tugs on Dare's sleeve, and heads for the stairs.
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"Oh, she's in excellent health, just absolutely pink!" Willie assured the proprietor, his good humor not waning despite a tension entering the gangly limbs. This Chask fellow knew Aunt Arabella? Now what sort of things was that to announce? He might as well have confessed ties to the nearest orc warlord for how it set the poor city boy on edge. Now he knew to watch his words lest they travel from mouth to ear to pen to paper and before he knew it, BOSH! The chieftain was battering his door down. "Yes, she'll outlive any elf her weight class, just you see!"
"I daresay that she seemed out of sorts in her last letter to me. Something about a five-thousand crown fine one of her nephews managed to incur..."
"FIVE-HUNDRED SILVERS YOU SAY?"
The young man nearly stumbled in trying to step between Chask and the others, shielding the old boffer from view like he was the remains of that no doubt very expensive vase he'd stumbled into one late night - possibly early morning - upon returning to the Deverin manor. He craned his long neck about to check whether any of the others had heard. Dear old Cailyn had fortunately already busied herself with a book, bless her docent heart.
"Ehm, yes, frightful business that. I mean, not so much 'frightful' as a, er, a simple boyish misadventure. You understand, what? I'm sure you have your own stories to tell, eh old boy?" The laugh that followed could not have sounded any more strained had it come from a seabird's bill. "That's my cousin, er, Wilmot for you. Poor chump has a way of always landing in the soup. He’s not a bad chap, you know, in his way. Rather an ass, perhaps, but well-meaning."