Ozbadin
You spend your afternoon scouring the poorer districts in town, and it is fruitful. There are plenty of destitute children and youth, most of them running around in mock gangs, all of them hungry. A few loners are about, wandering aimlessly, sleeping or panhandling.
One such youth catches your eye; he sits crosslegged on a quiet street, with a dirty empty jar in front of him. As people pass and ignore him, he can barely utter the word "...please..." from his dry and cracked lips. A tuft of dirty red hair juts out from under his filthy torn cloak, obscuring most of his face. Numerous scars run the length of his visible body, covering his arms and legs in dull red markings.
Angvar
"Not a better weapon," she corrects, "a bigger one. It's for my father. I'm going to run him through with it." She continues furiously scrubbing the floor. "Soon...as...I...save...enough...coin!"
"I knew a woman once who killed her father and raised him. He served her in unlife and she rejoiced in his downfall."
Angvar continues to point at the worst of the bloodstains, helping Marzielle as he talks.
Angvar
"Well, when I kill 'im, I want him to stay dead.", as she talks and scrubs, her hands make slashing motions at the carpet, seamlessly switching from the task at hand to practiced strikes. "I've thought about it lots, over and over, how I'm gonna do it." She breaks out of her focus and looks up at Angvar.
"You ever have someone that done you so wrong that you can't sleep at night? You stay up, thinkin' something, and it's just so ugly...and ya can't beat it out of your head? You wouldn't be scared of it if it was sittin' in front of you. You'd beat it to sh*t, right? But you can't beat it cause it's in your head. It's not like being crazy, it's just like thinkin' one thing over and over and it kinda makes ya sick. Like when I was a kid....I would keep thinking it was like a couple a snakes with big ugly teeth all yellow, like an old guy's teeth and there were the two of them suckin and bitin on my eardrum with these yellow teeth, makin' noises like a cat eatin'." Marzielle makes the noise, "You know what I mean?"
"I know." Angvar's pale face tightens.
"But killing your father is a short term goal. What will you do once he dies? You will be bereft. I know this and I'm warning you, you will need a fresh passion."
Angvar
"Bereft? What'sat? Like, all alone or something? I'm all alone anyway. I never even met the guy, so I hardly think I'll be missin' him when he's gone. I been waitin' my whole life to meet him just so I could get the chance to make him go away for good. Kinda silly when you think about it, ain't it?"
Visibly pained by the distraction from Larur's promised wine-soaked revelry, Mordecai glances out the window to see what transpires.
When he sees the young Meldrak in trouble, he will say in a sour tone. "Meldrak is being mugged of his tokens. It would set a poor precedent to allow neighborhood toughs to think that they can so cavalierly rough up an employee of the Golden Goblin."
He steps confidently outside to intervene, taking a double move action to get reasonably close to (but certainly not within a sword's reach of) the commotion.
In an imperious tone, he loudly says, "You there! That will be enough of that. Stand aside."
With hardly a glance towards the man in front of him, The large Kellid steps past him , towards the man who seems to be in charge of the robbery, drawing his axe as he does so. With a mighty roar to gather the man's attention, he lifts his axe high over his head, and brings it down in a mighty vertical chop.
Angvar
"Bereft? What'sat? Like, all alone or something? I'm all alone anyway. I never even met the guy, so I hardly think I'll be missin' him when he's gone. I been waitin' my whole life to meet him just so I could get the chance to make him go away for good. Kinda silly when you think about it, ain't it?"
Another bloodstain vanishes. "Exactly so. You have waited all your life to remove him. What then? What will give you purpose then? Why will you wake in the morning and face another day in this hellhole?
Curiously enough, Angvar feels a kind of responsibility for her and is reluctant to let her slip into the slough of depression he feels lapping at his own mind.
The Gold Goblin
(Mordecai, Angvar, Dank)
The thug attempting to rob Dank thinks better of making a swipe at the brute, and simply sidesteps to avoid him. Dank's large axe comes crashing down on what appears to be the ringleader of the crew, nearly severing the man's right arm, the bloody appendage dangling by a fragment of sinew and bone. His crossbow clatters to the ground and unloads harmlessly.
The thief's screams fill the street now, and even as the crowd begins to flee, more people flock to the scene to watch the fight. A flurry of movement erupts around you, and the remaining thugs use it to their advantage, [url=http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/2159759/] swiping harmlessly again at Mel as she clambers toward the Gold Goblin, before fleeing into the street with whatever chips they managed to hold onto.
The Gold Goblin
"Did you see that? Yeah, of course you did. Look at the size of that guy. Now, I didn't see you cast no magics, but I heard you, Mordecai. And you sounded commanding enough. Did you make him do that? How can you control people like that? Is this part of what you were going on about sex and stuff, like making people obey you?"
Larur is obviously confused, and is taking your commanding of the situation as a kind of control over this brute of a man.
Angvar
"Whaddya mean after? You're always talking about after, after, after. Who cares what happens after? I know the past, and I know it was sh*t. And I know that it ate Momma up until she wasn't there anymore."
It's clear to Angvar that this woman is so focused on her task at hand, that she hadn't given any thought to how her life would change. She's so grimly determined that she's desperately blind to everything else, except scraping by. This should be evident from the first moment and manner you encountered her.
She gets up and moves her bloody bucket to another corner of the room, continuing the conversation.
"Ain't you ever worked so hard on something? Plannin' it, and thinking about it? Not like where you're gonna get the next meal, or where you're gonna sleep when it rains. I mean a serious plan. The kind of thing you know you just need to do, and it's in your gut, right? And everything you do just leads up to that moment, and then....I dunno. It's like, white lights or something. Sounds silly, I guess, but that's how I picture it going down. White lights, and no more twisting in your guts. That's enough for me."
Angvar follows her, absently removing bloodstains as he does so.
"Not silly at all. I had a plan and worked for it, seeing the white light. It drove me. Two days ago, I could taste it. The white light was shining for me and the pain would stop. Thuvalia and I were ready for that..."
He kneels beside the woman. "You know what happened? It went wrong. Now my guts still twist, but they twist to the dance of the man who murdered Thuvalia. I call him "master" and I am not joking. He holds me. He offered me a new light and I will either see it from him, or make his destruction my new light. I know exactly what you mean Marzielle. Exactly."
He takes no notice at all of the disruption around the door.
'Lords of dust, the man is a simpleton!' Mordecai thinks uncharitably as Larur babbles behind him.
He takes a step towards Meldrak to guage his injuries, but his eyes narrow at the size of the axe-wielding brute ahead of him. He's heard rumors of the Northmen being prone to savage rages, and his plans of immortality could end all-too-quickly if he got between a berserker and the source of his frustration...
Mordecai is unarmed, having not yet drawn his dagger, and, as usual, has left his shield in his room, which suddenly makes him feel very vulnerable. Raising his hands in what he hopes is a non-threatening gesture, he steps forward slowly and says, "You have my thanks Northman for helping our staff with these thugs. Can I offer you a drink," he pauses and looks the man up and down, as if just registering his size, "or several perhaps, along with a warm meal, to express the gratitude of the Golden Goblin?"
Looking down at the blood spattering the ground, remembering happier days when the sight of spilled blood was associated with a fine meal, he smiles slightly, "Violence is such thirsty work, don't you agree?"
Once he's convinced that the towering man doesn't intend to split him like a timber, he'll determine if Meldrak requires immediate care, or can be manhandled into the Golden Goblin, to be tended out of sight.
Compared to the brute before him, it's like comparing a scrawny puppy to a winter wolf, but Mordecai's grip on Meldrak's arm is surprisingly strong, for a man of the cloth.
Passing by Larur on the way in, Mordecai will mutter, "Fortune favors the bold, Larur. I know nothing of our large friend, but we have certainly benefitted from his arrival. Would you be so kind as to fetch him a drink?"
"Hrrm...I will be glad to take your drinks and food." Dank replies, seeming to feel each word out as he speaks it, as if he is not quite used to speaking this language. Spotting the crossbow on the ground, he surreptitiously glances around before quickly picking it up and sticking it in his belt, and then follows the black-clothed man into the gambling hall, looking uncertainly at the silver tooth-shaped token he recieved before the scuffle broke out.
Ozbadin
You spend your afternoon scouring the poorer districts in town, and it is fruitful. There are plenty of destitute children and youth, most of them running around in mock gangs, all of them hungry. A few loners are about, wandering aimlessly, sleeping or panhandling.
One such youth catches your eye; he sits crosslegged on a quiet street, with a dirty empty jar in front of him. As people pass and ignore him, he can barely utter the word "...please..." from his dry and cracked lips. A tuft of dirty red hair juts out from under his filthy torn cloak, obscuring most of his face. Numerous scars run the length of his visible body, covering his arms and legs in dull red markings.
Ozbadin walks towards the scarred youth. "Hey you" he mutters nudging the boy with his toe. "Who are you". "I haven't seen you here before". "You'd better be careful...some of the others around here don't take kindly to poachers on their territory". "Maybe you'd better move on and find somewhere else to beg". "It doesn't look like you're having too much luck anyway".
Knowing that it never hurts to develop relationships in the streets he then takes out the scrap of Elephants Ear, he was saving for later and gives it to the boy..."Run along now". "My kindness has its limits". "But never forget that Ozbadin showed you kindness when nobody else bothered".
"Still, money is money, and I'd like to be making some sooner rather than later. Any word from Saul on when the Goblin is gonna open again?"
"I think he said a couple of days. Trying to get a few more warm bodies to man the casino before the Grand Re-Reopening. I'm going to visit a few more bars and brothels today, lookinig for more recruits. The sooner we get 'em, the sooner we can open." Bexilarius pauses and chews thoughtfully on a piece of fruit. "If you really want to earn some money fast. and you don't mind taking a risk, I may have an idea."
Angvar
Her face softens and her eyes open more widely as she listens to you, focusing on your own revenge story. "Master? So he really owns you, yeah? Does he beat you? Are you his slave? I mean, does he treat you bad? That scary looking man over by the door, who gave me this dagger?", she says pointing at the curved Osirioni blade on her belt. "I'd...I'd like to help you with that. The destruction and all, but I don't think I could strike against him. That wouldn't be right, you know? He...you...you gave me a place to stay, and a job, and this blade. I couldn't turn my back on that."
She continues, looking around at who may be listening, and whispering even quieter; "That is, of course, unless you could help me with my own situation. If you'd be willing to help me hunt down my father, I would help you out. Know that I bear no ill will toward him…Mordecai, right? And I am truly grateful for everything that he’s given me. You just gotta know that I would do anything for a chance to confront my bastard father.”
The Gold Goblin
The Northman responds to your hail and approaches the Gold Goblin, which seems a whole lot smaller now with a man this size inside.
Mordecai
Mel spits a bloody tooth on the ground, and wipes the blood off his face with the back of his hand. He’s silent, but impatient, as Mordecai inspects him. Your hands feel for his broken ribs, and glide over a pair of breasts. Mel jerks away feigning pain, as Mordecai begins to assess the rather feminine qualities of this ‘boy’.
The Gold Goblin
Larur catches the Kellid’s unfamiliarity with the language, and corrects him. “You’re not going to take our food, we’re giving it to you. Like a gift, as our way of saying ‘thanks’ to ya. We’re not really open for business, but you’re welcome to come in anyway. We’ll fix you up something nice. We were all about to sit down for a drink when you showed up anyway. What an axe you’ve got there!”
Larur’s friendly and gentle tone switches harshly as he addresses Mel. “Boy, you and I are gonna need to have a serious talk. Get upstairs and meet me outside Saul’s office. And send Hans down to clean up that mess out front.”
“Now, where were we? Ah yes, beer! I’ll grab us some full mugs, introduce yourself already. Where are ya from?”
Larur busies himself in the background of the kitchen, only half-listening, while he leaves you to chat. After a few moments he somewhat sloppily places your drinks in front of you, and then heads upstairs after Mel.
Bexilarius
“A couple of days isn’t so bad, I guess. One can’t expect a miraculous re-opening after what just took place. However, I’m running kinda short on funds here.” Sam takes a moment to evaluate Bexilarius’ proposal.
“Bex, I don’t know what you have in mind, but the last time I escorted you somewhere, I ended up covered in someone else’s blood. That’s not a trend I’d like to repeat. However, I trust you. I trust in your strength. This is gonna sound a little flighty, but….you’re solid. You know? Sturdy. And it’s not just your confidence. I feel like you are the kind of person that just being around helps pull things together. I know my life has certainly got a bit more stable since you’ve been around.” She trails off near the end, looking slightly embarrassed.
“What I’m trying to say is, if you’ve got a plan, it must be a good one. And I’m in.”
Ozbadin
The boy shifts slowly, rising as Ozbadin addresses him, keeping his head low. “My name’s…Brandy. Least that’s what my pa always called me. A’fore he died, anyway.” He gathers up his sad little jar and begins to head on his way.
“Sorry mister, I didn’t mean no trouble. I’ll just head back to the mission. See if there’s enough for me ta eat today.”
Despite his claim, Brandy doesn’t seem malnourished, and his arms and legs are solid enough. He is covered in scars all over his body, from what you can see, so he’s not particularly pretty to look at, but he would do fine as a labourer, you surmise.
"Stable, eh? Lady, I'm about as unstable as you can be and still walk upright. No offense, Sam, but you don't know anything about me. Where I've come from, what I've done. Hells, I don't even know what I'm doing half the time." Bex shakes his head as if to clear it. "Never mind. I don't know what I'm talking about. I just don't think anybody's ever described me that way before. But if a good lay is all you need for some stability in your life, then who am I to argue?"
"Anyways, I don't know how much of a plan I've got, but I've got a ticket to an arena about at Zincher's tonight. I'm sure I can bring you along. All I was thinking of was betting on some fights. That's where the risk comes in. You might make a stash, you might lose it all. I guess it depends on how hard up you are."
"Uhh..yeah. You give and I take." Dank says with a friendly smile on his face.
"I am Dank. I came, from my, people's, land. Looking, for my mother's daughter..err..sister. Yellow-beards take her. Followed them here. They have,uhh, flag. Red hawk on, blue cloth. Broken sword in mouth, uh, beak. You know them?"
His speach begins freindly enough, but by the end his voice has taken on a rather determined and inquisitorial tone, and he looks around at everyone, trying to determine if any of them might recognize the description of the Ulfens' flag.
Mel wipes a trail of blood from his chin..looks at Larur and throws the remaining tokens at his feet..
"Know what..stuff your job"
The youth turn on his heel and walks away from the Golden Goblin
Marzielle
"Yes. That is Mordecai and he is my master. Oddly enough, I have the same scruples that you do. He gave me a place to stay, a job and my spellbook as well as the promise of more white light. I am his slave but the bondage is ... curious. I sleep in his bed, he on the floor. He heals my wounds. He needs me and I think he needs you. He must have someone to care for and tend to. It is his weakness.
I want him to show me new life, new passion, Marzielle. I do not want him to fail and I will work to make his plans succeed. If he fails, then I will have to kill him and I would regret that. I want release from the fist in my guts, not more fists churning.
And yes. In this strange fellowship, I will work to make your plans succeed too. We will find your father, you and I. And I will help you in any way I can."
Listening to Dank's description, Mordecai's brows knit as he tries to recall if he's seen such a banner, with a red hawk on a blue field, gripping a blade in it's beak.
Seeing 'Meldrak' storm out, he points a hand lazily at the spilled silver tokens and they rise obediently into the air and onto the bar, neatly stacking themselves with slow, deliberate clicks.
His gaze passes over Angvar and Marzielle talking low, but he shows no interest in their conversation.
"Where's a..little man going?" Dank says, watching as Mel walks out of the Gold Goblin. When he turns back to his tankard, he sees Mordecai directing the tokens through the air, and hastily snatches his back up from the table in front of him, glaring at Mordecai suspiciously.
"Better not do that to my.. uh. stuff!" he barks.
Ozbadin
The boy shifts slowly, rising as Ozbadin addresses him, keeping his head low. “My name’s…Brandy. Least that’s what my pa always called me. A’fore he died, anyway.” He gathers up his sad little jar and begins to head on his way.
“Sorry mister, I didn’t mean no trouble. I’ll just head back to the mission. See if there’s enough for me ta eat today.”
Despite his claim, Brandy doesn’t seem malnourished, and his arms and legs are solid enough. He is covered in scars all over his body, from what you can see, so he’s not particularly pretty to look at, but he would do fine as a labourer, you surmise.
"Wait boy...Brandy is it". "Wait up a moment". Ozbadin's mind whirls. Why wait till they have bad habbits to break...brilliant.
"How would you feel about a warm place to rest your head out of the weather, and food enough to quiet your stomach"? "Maybe, I could use a boy like you to do some things for me". "Run errands, work behind the scenes at my business, that sort of thing". "Hard but honest work". "What do you think, are you interested"?
At Dank's question, Marak grins unpleasantly, "The little 'man' appears to have lost his stomach for the job. It may be that the Golden Goblin suddenly has an opening for such a stout fellow as yourself!"
After stacking the tokens on the counter, he replies, "And while there is no shortage of people who would attempt to part you from your 'stuff' here in Riddleport, and you would be a fool to trust any of us, I assure you that you have nothing I desire."
Hearing Mordecai's offer and then his scathing, and to Dank, quite confusing, long denial of wanting anything of his, he sits there for a few breaths, pondering Mordecai's words. He then shrugs, and chooses to ignore the acerbic remark, since he isn't sure he understood it anyway.
"Opening? You mean..job? What I do.. for job? What do job pay?" he asks. Then quickly follows with another question. "And.. I told you my name. What you.. peoples' names?"
Angvar
Marzielle stops scrubbing and looks up at you with pathetic tear-filled eyes. "Would you really help me in all this?"
Her voice quickly becomes excited, and she begins racing through her plan as she wipes the tears and snot from her face, "I don't have much to go on, but I heard a rumour recently that he's holin' up in an old Mission, somewhere in town. Goes by the name of 'Beltias' now, I think. You could try looking for him there."
She continues, in hushed tones, "I've seen you guys in a fight; you're pretty tough, but I don't want you to kill him. I want to be the one to do it. Maybe you could take me along with ya, if you're gonna march in there. I couldn't walk in there alone; I got my momma's face. He'll spot me a'fore I spot him. Or, maybe you could knock 'im out and drag him back somewhere. I know an old abandoned house not so far from here. Been empty for as long as I remember. People say it's haunted, that's why there ain't nobody squattin' in there. That place should do."
Ozbadin
The boy looks up at Ozbadin with big saucer-eyes. "Sir? You'd do that for me? I'd do pretty much anything. I'm a hard worker, I assure you. You won't regret hiring me. What sorta work do you do, Mister...uh Mister Ozbadin...sir?"
The boy more confidently looks at Ozbadin, perhaps evaluating him and his proposition. As he raises his head, Ozbadin gets a better look at his face; the beginnings of scraggly facial hair push their way through the youth's chin. He can't be much older than 13 or 14, Ozbadin surmises.
Angvar snorts slightly at Marzielle's description of him.
"You think I'm good in a fight? Marzielle, my life hangs by a thread and the benefits of Mordecai's healing. Nothing more. Let me think a moment and talk to my master. You will strike the death blow, I promise you that."
Know (local) - Beltias. Does the name ring any bells? (1d20+8=17)
Angvar
Marzielle glances around the floor a bit more, and then at her bucket. " I think I'm pretty well done cleanin' up this mess. Thanks for your help here too. You'll have to teach me how to do that sometime. I'm gonna go get myself settled in and cleaned up. I'll be upstairs if you have any more information for me."
Marzielle extends a grimy hand for a handshake to seal the deal, and then retires to the room she shares with the other workers.
Angvar smiles. "I think I know where to start at least." He takes her hand in return and raises the workstained fingers to his lips. "That's a salute between comrades Marzielle. We are on a mission now."
Then he goes to hunt for Mordecai, keeping his head low and face subservient.
"My name is Mordecai, Dank, and I am a priest of the Pallid Princess." Mordecai says in answer to Dank's question. Turning to see Angvar approaching, he adds, "And that is Angvar, an arcanist who has recently begun working with us."
Pointing to Larur, he also introduces him, "Larur also works for our benefactor, as does the lovely Marzielle." he adds, pointing her out as she straightens up from cleaning the bloodstains from the recent unpleasantness.
"There are others, such as Meldrak, whom you just saw resign his position here, and I'm sure they'll be along shortly."
Ozbadin
The boy looks up at Ozbadin with big saucer-eyes. "Sir? You'd do that for me? I'd do pretty much anything. I'm a hard worker, I assure you. You won't regret hiring me. What sorta work do you do, Mister...uh Mister Ozbadin...sir?"
The boy more confidently looks at Ozbadin, perhaps evaluating him and his proposition. As he raises his head, Ozbadin gets a better look at his face; the beginnings of scraggly facial hair push their way through the youth's chin. He can't be much older than 13 or 14, Ozbadin surmises.
"I do what must be done. Is all you need to know". "I'll make sure you have a roof over your head, food in you belly, and protection from those who would do you harm". "Do you really care what sort of work you will be doing". "Come with me now, and I'll show you where you will begin your duties, and get you something to eat". "Do you have any belongings we need to get first"?
Ozbadin begins to thread his way back to the GG.
Dank raises his mug in a silent toast to the people mentioned, and drains the rest from it, setting it down and looking for another.
From the pitcher of ale on the bar, Mordecai's unseen magics conjure it over to refresh Dank's tankard (and his own).
Looking up at Angvar, who seems to have finished his talk with Marzielle, he comments dryly, "I am deeply envious of whatever magic that was you used to clean up the blood. It's truly the simple things in life that make it worth living."
He punctuates his point by magically levitating a fresh drink into his own hand and sipping deeply.
"Elementary magic, much like your own. The simple things are so often the most astonishing."
Angvar matches cantrip for orison, catching and moving falling drops back into the tankards.
"A case in point. Our offering to the Gold Goblin staff needs help in order to move her life along. Some unfinished business and then, I am sure, the need for a new passion. A familiar story. Recklessly, perhaps, I have committed myself to the enterprise."
He smiles at Mordecai. "As a cleric, it may appeal to you. A man needs to die so a girl can live. A fair exchange I think."
"Recklessly, perhaps, I have committed myself to the enterprise."
A genuine smile crosses his face as Mordecai dourly quips, "Reckless? You? Surely not."
With a more serious demeanor, he tilts his head and regards Marzielle with a coldly analytical stare. "I begin to wonder if I have been overly generous." he says quietly. "Still, if one is already eating poison, I suppose it's just good manners to clean the plate."
"Whom does she wish to murder? I am assuming that she doesn't merely want some fool killed, but seeks to end that life personally..."
Mordecai seems oblivious to the presence of Dank at the table, casually discussing the murder of some unknown party as if it were, at worst, something of an imposition.
"She wishes to kill her father. The symbolism is a little crude, but I think you have to give her credit for her directness. It's important that she strikes the killing blow herself, but she would welcome help in arranging that."
Angvar idly traces pattens in the air with the beer drops.
"I have warned her of the void that will follow the accomplishment of her single desire. I doubt she believes me."
Ozbadin
"Nuthin' really mister. Ain't got much of anything that belongs to me."
The boy slumps his head again at Ozbadin's harsh tone, but otherwise obediently follows Ozbadin to the Gold Goblin, where a number of the staff are sharing a few drinks.
Bexilarius
"Well, last time I left the house for a few casual games of chance, I lost my eyesight and almost died from that gang of ruffians. You sure this night isn't going to be rowdy?" She says with a bit of smirk.
"Still, I've got a bit of coin left that I wouldn't mind losing. Worst case scenario, I'll make a bit more, right? And, if I remember correctly, you're something of a devil when it comes to gambling. You had a winning streak a mile long before things turned ugly. I'll just stick close to you." She says, playfully.
Gold Goblin; now including Angvar, Mordecai, Dank, Ozbadin
Footsteps are heard overhead as someone comes down the stairs, whistling. Opening the door into the kitchen is Saul, looking bright-eyed and rosy-faced.
"Good evenin' boss!" Larur says, heading over to great his employer. He leans over, and spends a moment or two whispering in Saul's ear, gesturing at Dank, the others, and at the entrance to the gambling hall.
Gold Goblin
"Ah, good evening everyone!" Saul says with a twirl of his key-arm. He begins to address the large newcomer; "Larur tells me that your name is Dank, and that you are the one responsible for the quick and decisive ending to the commotion out front. For that you have my gratitude." he says, with a slight bow. "I could use a man like that in my employ, however, you look like a bit of a...well...a traveller, really. You must have journeyed far to reach these land. Do you intend to stay long in Riddleport? If so, I am prepared to offer you a security position here in this gambling hall. I hear that we have such a position that has recently opened up.", he says annoyedly.
"As for the rest of you, fine job in sending more recruits, err, potential employees my way. We've got a number of fine looking ladies to work the floor, and some strong backs to support them. If this keeps up, we'll be able to open tomorrow night!" Saul attempts a futile clap.
"I stay here until I find.. yellowbeards who fly blue... flag.. with red eagle holding... a broken sword. You know them?" he says to Saul.
"Attention Everyone!" "This is Brandy". "He will be running errands, and doing odd jobs, till we find out what he's really good at". Ozbadin then introduces everyone to the Youth. He then points to the remaining food on the table.
"Help yourself" he says to Brandy gesturing at the table.
He then takes a moment to survey the new "Empolyees" raising an eyebrow at the Biggest Newcomer.