Marce Washburn's page

Marce shrugs. "I'll keep an ear open for a corpse with a missing hand, though if he's found dead, I expect the news will spread quickly enough without my hurrying it along."

"Vankaskerkin?" Marce replies, startled. "Is he missing as well? You think he was caught in the wave?"

Forestalling stepping delicately around the issue Phil plows onwards "Has Taffy's place of work been queried? or is that still on the list?"

A moment of surprise flits across Marce's face as he realizes you know about Olin's secret. "I've just spoken to Taffy. He wasn't with her last night. No need to mention it to the girls, as nothing came of the inquiry ... particularly as it seems Olin might be facing Pharasma's judgment. There's no call for them to judge him as well."

"I've a request to make besides... one that shouldn't impact your current good works... and might help line your pockets for whatever other good works you'd seek out." wanting to see sign of interest before making plain his offer.

"Aye, and what's that?" he asks a bit warily.

He shakes his head. "No one's seen him since the wave. The more time goes by, the less hope he'll turn up safe."

As recognition dawns he will raise a hand in query "Ho there... dark countenance based on discovery or mystery?"

As Marce looks up and recognizes Phillip, some small part of his mental burden seems to be lifted. "Phil." He closes to shake the other halfling's hand. "You're well. Ethel knows?"

"Ethel knows where I live," he answers. "If for any reason I'm not there, you can leave word here with Arnando."

Phillip sees Braddon reappear from the door behind the bar.

"Aye," Marce answers, a look of mild surprise on his face that Phil would even ask. "It touches on Ethel and has affected Almah and Maddy as well. I'll want to know when the matter's been resolved and no longer hanging over their heads."

The halfling and his strapping half-elven bodyguard garner little attention as they hesitate just inside the doorway. After some few moments have passed, Marce appears again, gesturing to the pair from halfway across the room. As they join him, he explains in a low shout that passes for a whisper in the busy tavern, "He's set Lalie to turning some lads out of their table. As quiet a corner as he can manage through to the morning room. You'll have to shout a bit, but Cayden knows it'll be a job for anyone to eavesdrop."

Braddon, Phillip, and Marce approach the Publican House, the sound of laughter and revelry spilling out the open doors and the cheerful light from the window reflecting murkily off the sluggish water of the Velashu. The trio walk around to the riverfront entrance. The tavern/temple looks much as it has the other evenings the party has seen it: busy and bustling.

Marce pauses at the threshold, glancing around. "I don't see Croat's men yet. Let me slip in and tell Arnando what's going on, see if he can't clear you a table." The halfling steps in, weaving his way between the patrons with purpose, leaving Phil and Braddon to follow at a more casual pace.

thinking for a few moments before retrieving a handful of yellow coinage. Offering it to Marce he suggests "Contingency if you're willing... if I spill my drink you get Arnando to open his taps for free-flow ale. Would help pick out any boys Croat have in the audience as well as making for a bit more chaos to escape through if we need... which I'm relatively confident we won't... but still..."

Marce quickly repositions himself to shield the lucre from the eyes of the other passengers filing off the ferry. "You ought to be careful displaying full pockets," he chastises Phil good-naturedly, "especially so near the river. One 'accidental' jostle, and you're in the drink while your coin goes home in another man's pouch."

Once they're safely on the western riverbank and have put some distance between themselves and the majority of the passengers heading north to Free-Coin, Marce accepts the transfer of coin. "Let's hope it doesn't come to that. Boss Croat has a reputation of being concerned more about profit than justice ... as long as you don't insult his honor. That's worth more to him than profit." The trio make their way down the dark road among the abandoned buildings of River District.

"Two men to each side," Marce smirks at Phil, "but I might just find myself in a thirsty mood while we're there and stick around for a drink or two. I'll let Arnando know what's going on. He's more attentive when he knows there's factions using the bar for negotiations."

The flatboat arrives, and the crowd parts to let the few passengers heading to the unglamorous side of the river disembark before they flood onto the ferry for the crossing.

Downstairs, Braddon and Phillip join Marce in the back hallway; he gives Braddon a nod and then leads them out the door. "They are supposed to be two men," he informs them quietly, "but I wouldn't be surprised if they sent more, under cover of 'just having a drink.' Croat won't want trouble with Arnando so they won't try anything in the Publican, but if things don't go well, I'd watch your back when you leave."

The trio walk up to the crowd of aspiring river-crossers waiting on the eastern ferry dock and join the queue.

Phillip sees the door opened and waits for the Lord Mayor to pour forth words.

Marce steps just inside the hallway, seeming disinclined to tarry. "Meeting's set at the Publican. Are you ready to go?"

Marce exits Phillip's room and quickly crosses the casino floor. Passing back through the kitchen, he nods politely to the three men, "Gentlemen," but clearly has no intention of stopping to chat, heading directly for the back door.

"Ethel's here then?" he asks, following Phillip but not offering any further information. They round the corner into the marble foyer to find Snake standing outside Phillip's door.

"Marce... what brings you here?"

Marce swivels around to face Phil, his expression evincing a moment of relief before settling into a concerned frown. "Phil," he greets him. "Is there somewhere we can have a word?" The in private is clearly implied.

"Where have I seen you before? If we were enemies I would have remembered. Want a drink? The bar's just through here."

"No time, thanks," the halfling repeats politely. Rather than follow Braddon toward the bar, he cranes his neck anxiously after Snake as he disappears into the residential wing.

"I am Gristav, sir. Who might we say, is calling?" Gristav takes up an overlong knife, checks the edge, then blunts any threat by slicing searable slabs from the volume of venison. "And might you join us for dinner? Venison, berries, wine, cream, butter, and herbs, in various combinations."

"I know you; you're the bub that works over at the Publican House. What's so important that you need to see Raccoon or his girlfriend in such a hurry?"

The Small man steps into the back corridor. "No time for dinner, thanks. My business is pressing. If you'll tell Phil that Marce needs to speak with him on an urgent matter?" He nods a greeting to Snake, polite but reticent.

"... if you've the time tomorrow you're welcome at the Goblin?"

The pair have reached the fork where the path leaves the road toward Cas Cazynsik's workshop. Marce nods in acknowledgment. "Aye. Ethel'll be there? She wouldn't forgive anyone not turning up to her party. I'll do my best to make an appearance." He gives Phil a nod of farewell and heads back to work.

Turning, Phillip heads back toward the waterfront. Glancing down the boardwalk, he spies Braddon examining the ships and Snake's distinctive hat above the heads of most of the crowd.

Shrugging "They will likely be looking for passage back, but best to distance yourself from those thoughts."

Marce shrugs, weathering the rebuff with good grace. "Once in the Cove," he warns Phillip, "if they don't have the benefit of a man who knows the ships, they might want to consider returning by land. Haddock and Teach won't be coming straight back, and betting your life on the honor of a crew in Roderic's Cove is a fool's wager."

He waves off the proffered payment with a friendly snort. "Buy something for Ethel; my time doesn't command such an exorbitant wage." He pauses, then asks, "Will you be looking for return fare, when your business in the Cove is done?"

"What's the names of the boats? - and would you be acting as the go-between, or should my men deal direct with the ship's captains?"

"Best you approach the ships yourself ... but drop my name, so they know I've already told you the price before they quote you a higher one," he smirks. "The Coral Plunder sails tonight; her captain is Ferdinand Haddock. The Fearful Jewel is having some fittings overhauled; they won't be ready to go until Sunday night or Moonday; Jude Teach is her commander. I won't go so far as to say they're honorable men, but they're not outright villains. If they don't believe there's anyone who'll pay a ransom for your men, they'll be glad enough to accept their coin to take them where they need to go."

As Phillip falls in beside him, Marce informs him, "There's a few ships heading toward the Cove, depending on when you're wanting to leave. One leaving tonight, if you're that keen to be gone. Five gold a head passage."

Phil nods gamely, though his eyes and the corner of his mouth retain an impish sparkle and curl "Aye, eventually sure... but if it's out her eyes for the near term all the better." doing some mental calculations before confirming "As many as four men, and as soon as is able... coin isn't infinite, but is available. Where should you have word?" looking to confirm where he should rejoin Marce during lunch... before nodding.

Marce shoots a glance toward Cas. "Meet me out on the road to the wharves; Cas doesn't seem to take kindly to your presence," he smirks. Accepting the coins without comment, he returns Phil's nod and heads back to his work.

Phil nods to show that he follows along with and understands Marce's words "Do you know of someone that might broker that passage on my behalf? - we've a need and desire that would best be kept from the Whoremistress..."

"The only way I know to keep a secret from Shorafa in this town is to stay beneath her notice," Marce warns. "If she already has her eye on you, she'll find out your secrets eventually. Still, that may not be until you've been to the Cove and back. You are coming back?" He glances down the workshop to where his employer is still pointedly watching the conversation. "Won't be able to do anything about it until lunch. When, and how many?"

"Whatever you know of the movements of a Teeth of Araska and which ship might be quickest to get a few men to Roderic's Cove is the sum of it."

Marce's wariness turns into a scowl. "The Teeth of Araska carries a dangerous crew, if rumors are to be believed. They don't care for their ship, that's for certain: a dirty rig, and they let repairs go as long as they can keep her afloat without them. They've no regular cargo, which means they're almost certainly smugglers or pirates."

"I heard they sailed into the harbor on Oathday and left again almost immediately, just staying long enough to take on fresh water. To me, that says they had something aboard they didn't want seen."

"As to passage to the Cove, there's no passenger ships in Riddleport Harbor, but just about any captain sailing that direction won't say no to a little extra coin. I wouldn't trust the Teeth of Araska, though. They might decide they'd rather have all the coin in your pockets."

"Depends what you're looking to learn," Marce answers a little warily. "We tend to know who's in port due to who's hiring us to make repairs ... but if you're wanting an invitation to the captains' tables, they don't know me from Aroden's grandnephew and wouldn't consider an acquaintance with the carpenter's men a very presitigious connection."

Marce glances up at Phillip's approach. "How'd the lake treat you, Phil?"

"Besides... danger is underrated."

Marce chuckles quietly. "So is safety, especially by those who have never known danger. Oh, I don't doubt you've swept her off her feet, used as she is to stolid, respectable men like Ewart and Win. Every girl wants a bad boy, eh, and nice guys finish last?" He takes a swig of ale. "But if she gets into any trouble, whether of her own free will or not, if you don't look to get her out of it, I will. Nothing personal."

"Any questions you want to be asking of me?" voice clear and pointed, but not threatening in any manner.

"I--" Marce begins, his voice sharp with surprise as he is caught off guard by the question. He glances down at the tabletop, his face twisted into a wry smile. "None I've any business asking," he admits good-naturedly. "Ethel is.... I'd hate to see her hurt, and you seem to be in a dangerous line of business."

"Any of the dockside taverns," he replies. "I'd start with the Immortal Goat, but if they get tossed out of one for brawling, they'd just go to the next one down the pier." He frowns at Phil. "You're not thinking of trawling the wharves after dark?"

Marce frowns. "I haven't heard anything about it yet. Something you want me to ask around about?"

Phillip had a chance to peel Marce away from the other two for a more pertinent and private discussion "Any thought or word come your way that might fit what we talked of a few days prior?"

"I've not been told of any threats against your employer," he replies with a sharp glance, "although the mishap at the harbor has left us with little time to do anything but work since yesterday. I never made it to the 'Cress last night."

"He'd only allow less time off to repay his generosity," Marce smiles. "Besides, the ferry runs on the Overlord's license. He doesn't want trouble from Maskyr's Island if Grimas complains of losing our fares."

Feel free to chat along the way, Phil, or simply narrate yourself over to the Publican.

The three halflings spy Phillip, Olin with a sly grin, Ewart with a glance at Marce who greets him with a nod and a steady gaze. "Briskly. We've work for all hands and more, thanks to the harbor wave. Cas only grudgingly let us take a lunch."

Nonchalantly "Aye, just this morning... just signed on beside me working with Larur. Hows Marce getting on?" looking to the hole in the deck where word of whether carpentry could be done would come from.

The shipwright looks as if the condition of Gozreh's Blessing is the last thing on his mind at the moment, seeming far more interested in a possibly disgruntled crew member of the Flying Cloud, but the halfling himself chooses this moment to scramble spryly up the ladder from below, a lantern in hand. He looks a little startled to see Phil but gives him a sober nod of recognition before addressing himself to his employer. "Damage doesn't look that bad from the inside; think it must be mostly cosmetic. I doubt we'd have to replace the plank, maybe just apply some pitch for watertightness."

"Too many hens in the hen house, eh, Phil?" Marce asks with a grimace and a shake of his head. "Wouldn't worry about it. They'll make up; they always do. One of them probably borrowed the other's hair ribbon without asking. You for more skiffs? I'm not one to leave the lake before my luck's turned."

Hoping that words have swayed Marce to interest Phil continues "Do nothing for me out of charity... do it for yourself... and the others that might benefit." wafting a hand to paint the shorter side of the casino with its passage.

Marce's mouth twists into a wry smile. "All right, Phil," he assures him affably. "If I run across information that affects your employer, I'll pass it along. If it moves him or you to gratitude, I can't deny I'd find a use for the expression." His gaze travels over Phil's shoulder, and his brow creases in a frown. Following Marce's eyes, Phil glances back to see Ethel speaking with Maddy on the far side of the lake; Ethel looks cross and Maddy a little smug.

Marce's expression turns more serious as the conversation is steered to business. He listens soberly to Phillip's proposal and ruminates silently for a moment when he has done. "So you're asking me to deliver word of any threat against Vankaskerkin and his interests? I wouldn't do it for the man himself, but if you've signed on with him, your success and safety depends on his. I hope you'll believe I'd get word to you of any plots I was aware of against your place of business with or without the prospect of payment."

Ethel demurs, and Phil leaves her behind at the table, still looking pensive.

Sidling up to Marce he opens "Have the waters been kind tonight? - or do they break ill for you?"

The other halfling looks pleased. "Besmara's on my side tonight," he jokes, patting a pocket that rattles with chips. "If they'd only sail onto the lake in the Watercress, I could take on the whole Chelish navy."

"No," he answers frankly, rattling his own chips in his hand. "Stopped by the Publican House on the way here. You up for another game, Phil, or going to take shore leave for a while?"

"Fortunes seem to have favored me since my arrival in Riddleport... both at work and at play." casting eyes towards Ethel and giving her a roguish wink and grin.

Marce follows Phil's eyes to Ethel and down her arm to the new bracelet at her wrist. "So I see," he says with more a grimace than a smile.