Oliver Bott's page

"Worked out well for you, though, Shorafa," Oliver grins. "The threat of violence chased her back home to the nest, when all your enticements couldn't do it."

Somewhat grudgingly, Oliver produces an embroidered money pouch and sets it in Shorafa's open hand.

"I am curious as to Herr Bott's explanation of the message he delivered on his employer's behalf." His gaze falls to Oliver, "A message that included a direct threat against Herr Vankaskerkin and his relations."

"I thought we'd agreed that was all a misunderstanding," the tiefling protests. "Brad had enticed Fin to stay on the streets after dark, flouting Shorafa's rules, in exchange for coin. I was just pointing out that Shorafa takes interference with her children very seriously. Old Stumpy wants to put her kids in danger; well, Lil told us where Stumpy's son is now. But Brad was new in town, didn't know Fin was Shorafa's and how things work in Riddleport. That's fair enough; just consider it a friendly warning."

"Didn't say I didn't know any of them," Oliver grins at Braddon. "Just didn't know her. Hold a moment: Anton Mescher? That was his daughter?" He laughs. "No wonder he keeps her locked up so tight; when she slips the leash, she's game for anything."

"Her friends did," Oliver shrugs. "Look, it was a bunch of girls out on the town, like you might meet at any of the casinos. They said it was her birthday and I was to show her a good time. She laughed; she came with me willingly enough."

Oliver appears dumbfounded by the accusation. "Drugged? She'd been drinking a while, I'll give you that, but I had nothing to do with it; she was drunk when I met her."

As the halfling nods and closes the door again, Oliver looks from one fact to the next curiously. If anyone expected him to look sheepish or furtive, they are disappointed; he seems quite relaxed and, when he spies Tendal, breaks into a broad grin. "Dev!" he greets him. "Told you you should come visit. How'd things turn out with old Desy last night? She still got it?"

"Oh, no need for that," Oliver demurs mildly. "Brad here's got the message. I'm sure Old Stumpy hasn't a clue what the whole hullabaloo is about. He knows better than to cross Shorafa. Don't want to call Brad on the carpet in front of his new boss, right, Brad? I was a stranger in town myself once before Shorafa took me in. I don't see any reason to hold you fine gentlemen up any longer. Oh, and Dev?" he winks at Tendal. "Not to worry. Nary a word to Desy's husband, eh?"

"Nothing untoward, Dev," Bott welcomes Tendal with an easy grin. "Just delivering a message." He seems to catch the glance at Braddon. "Right; you're both new in town. So you know each other? You haven't seen the best Riddleport has to offer yet; you both ought to pay a visit to the House of the Silken Veil."

Oliver Bott wrote:

"Oliver Bott," he introduces himself with an easy smile. "You must be fresh off the boat. I thought everyone knew me, at least by reputation. That's good," he clarifies, in case Braddon thinks he's being insulted. "I can tell Shorafa you legitimately didn't know who you were crossing and meant no harm. Welcome to Riddleport, Mr. ...?" he pauses, waiting for Braddon to return the introduction.

Braddon relaxes ever so slightly. "Hull. Braddon Hull. Well picked. I've only been here a few weeks and haven't had time to meet all the bosses yet. No doubt you'll hear more of me in future."

Oliver Bott wrote:

"Or the men your boss stole from. Has he told you yet how he lost his hand? Not really a story you lead with when you're hiring, I guess."

"Of course I've heard the story," Braddon responds casually. "But I haven't heard your version of it. How does it go?"

"'Hull?'" Bott asks skeptically. "That sounds like a sailor's name, not an elf's. I thought your people all had long, complicated names, like Tralaladlara." He shrugs. "The story of how Old Stumpy got his stump was before my time, but they say he was skimming money from people, important people, and got caught. He couldn't come up with the coin to pay them back, so they took the matter to Shorafa to arbitrate. She decided since his left hand didn't know what his right hand was doing with the money they entrusted him with, he obviously had too many hands and would find life simpler with only one." He grins.

"Me?" he grins, seeming amused by the thought. "I won't claim I've never knifed a man, but I gave all that up when I joined Shorafa's nest. You don't get it; she's not a thug like Croat or Zincher. She got where she is by taking care of people. Like the kids." He turns back to Braddon. "Or the men your boss stole from. Has he told you yet how he lost his hand? Not really a story you lead with when you're hiring, I guess."

"Oliver Bott," he introduces himself with an easy smile. "You must be fresh off the boat. I thought everyone knew me, at least by reputation. That's good," he clarifies, in case Braddon thinks he's being insulted. "I can tell Shorafa you legitimately didn't know who you were crossing and meant no harm. Welcome to Riddleport, Mr. ...?" he pauses, waiting for Braddon to return the introduction.

Gold Goblin wrote:

"Maybe you can help me," he smiles at Braddon once he's out of the room. "I'm looking for an elf that works for Old Stumpy. That wouldn't be you, would it?"

"Of course it is, sir."

Braddon steps politely away from the door, giving the lady some privacy and himself enough room to draw his sword if the need should arise. He has stepped further down the corridor so the man is between himself and Malkith.
"And why are you looking for me?"

"I've a message for you, on behalf of Shorafa," he replies, a bit of an edge creeping into his voice, "and believe me, you'd rather hear it from me than her. Leave her kids alone. They're not for use as pawns in Riddleport power plays. Shorafa's heard about Orik; don't think he's beyond her reach if she puts her mind to it." The smile returns to his face. "There. Message delivered, and no reason we can't part as friends, eh?"

"Oh, he's a peach, ain't he, Des?" Oliver withdraws his unshaken hand without a hint of embarrassment, still smiling at Tendal. "Not to worry, Mr. Deverin. My business is inside; running into Desy here was just a happy accident. And don't worry your pretty little head, Des," he finally turns his attention back to the blushing woman who is miserably trying both to maintain her dignity and to pretend he isn't there by staring at the ground on the other side of her. "If I should happen to bump into Galen in there, I won't say a word about your gentleman friend. You know whose side I'm on." With a grin at Tendal and a hand dropped rather heavily on Desiree's shoulder in farewell, he turns away and heads through the doorway between the half-orc sentinels.