The air smells of ale, sweat, and hot, delicious food. A stout double-bitted axe hangs above the time, elbow, and chin polished bar. Several young women, and more than a few young men, trawl through the ware-house sized common room, taking orders for drinks and food as they move about. A burly dwarf, past his prime, but with a look of efficient competence about him stands behind the bar.
"What'll it be? Hurry up, I've got more than just ye ta worry about."
"Hello, my name is Barnabas Starson. You might know me, I own Starson Shavings and Moustache Cares. I am looking for my granddaughter. She has been missing for weeks now and my Son has asked me to find her. She has honey coloured hair, emerald eyes and was dressed in a fine lavender summer dress. She is about 5 years old. Has anyone seen her?"
A middle aged man walks into the tavern, clearly to high-class for this area. His hair has the first hints of gray as his immaticualy groomed beard, but it is expertly dyed. Just the strains of past weeks and the little effort to take care hint that he is older than he looks. For those who know him, he is well known as an expert barber and master of potions and concotions and a ladys man. He has a timeless good looks and seems to have been around forever ... twice. But his usually good humor and expertise in selecting his legen... wait for it ..dary dalliances with countless women have caused that many a man has closed an eye on this strange history.
Paulus wrinkled his nose in disgust at the various smells that assaulted him as he walked into the tavern. He still thought this would be a good place to find a lead on Lamm, but now that he was here, he decided he had no idea how to go about doing so without tipping Lamm off.
With a start, he realized he was still standing in the doorway, blocking the flow of traffic. He strode to the bar slowly, his gaze swinging from side to side, looking for any familiar faces. Then he chuckled ruefully. Those lads he had run with 10 years ago would certainly be unrecognizable now, as he was.
Once reaching the bar, he glanced at the old dwarf.
"I'll have an ale, for now."
He placed the ale in front of him, sipping on it as he heard the older gentleman inquire about his granddaughter. He locks eyes with the man, shaking his head, then turns back to the bar, shaking his head again. Another lost child, a familiar story.
"Welcome home," Leoros thinks walking into the tavern. His keen eyes picked out some familiar faces, but nobody seemed to recognize him, which suited him fine.
"An ale and whatever that is on the stewpot, barkeep."Warily eyeing the high class barber, he turned to check the other patrons for any larcenous intent.
"Man should know better, coming into a place like this alone."
At the entrance of the tavern, Whisper will ponder if his was really a good idea.
Ugh, this place is cramped and full of people. I hate cramped spaces. I guess I can't only run around the Shingles if I want to find little Ander. I'll have to hold my breath, keep my usual low profile, and go listen to the wind in there. Or I'll try, seeing as the air is so damp...
As soon as a huge man moved out of the doorway, Whisper entered the building, taking care to slip unnoticed trough the crowd...
...and trip over the leg of a table. Many of the tavern customers will probably turn to see what the fuss was about. As they turned, an expression of terror will paint itself on the face of the Sylph.
damn damn damn I knew this wasn't a good idea. Everyone's looking at me!
He will try to move as nonchalantly as he could (that is, not much) and take a seat near the counter.
"A glass of water, please." he will ask to the bartender with a faint voice.
Okay, okay, calm down. You've screwed up secrecy, but at least you can still listen to the wind.
He will concentrate on his surroundings, and the barber will be surely what he piqued his interest the most.
Missing child, uh? Is he searching for Lamm, too? Better watch how the situation unfold and then approach him, then.
He will pull out his little journal, scribbling swiftly a little note about the barber and Doorstopper who eyed him.
That barber is 'particular'...Ifriit? Peri, maybe?
"Hello, my name is Barnabas Starson. You might know me, I own Starson Shavings and Moustache Cares. I am looking for my granddaughter. She has been missing for weeks now and my Son has asked me to find her. She has honey coloured hair, emerald eyes and was dressed in a fine lavender summer dress. She is about 5 years old. Has anyone seen her?"
A middle aged man walks into the tavern, clearly to high-class for this area. His hair has the first hints of gray as his immaticualy groomed beard, but it is expertly dyed. Just the strains of past weeks and the little effort to take care hint that he is older than he looks. For those who know him, he is well known as an expert barber and master of potions and concotions and a ladys man. He has a timeless good looks and seems to have been around forever ... twice. But his usually good humor and expertise in selecting his legen... wait for it ..dary dalliances with countless women have caused that many a man has closed an eye on this strange history.
The dwarf snorts at Barnabas' question.
"An' ye thought a tavern full o' ol' salts and too eager greenhorns was a good place ta look fer tha wee lass? Ye can ask, but I doubt ye'll find what ye be lookin' fer. The name's Brask, if ye need anything, jus' holler."
"Welcome home," Leoros thinks walking into the tavern. His keen eyes picked out some familiar faces, but nobody seemed to recognize him, which suited him fine.
"An ale and whatever that is on the stewpot, barkeep."Warily eyeing the high class barber, he turned to check the other patrons for any larcenous intent.
"Man should know better, coming into a place like this alone."
"Ale an' stew, comin' up. That'll be seven coppers."
The dwarf moves with brutal efficiency, and before more than a few moments had passed, a tankard of frothy ale and a steaming bowl of stew are placed on the bar in front of Leoros.
"If ye need anythin', jus' holler." He says before movng on the next patron. The stew is quite good and the ale even more so. It seems that the crowd, while rough, and probably not that nice, is devoid of larcenous intent.
At the entrance of the tavern, Whisper will ponder if his was really a good idea.
Ugh, this place is cramped and full of people. I hate cramped spaces. I guess I can't only run around the Shingles if I want to find little Ander. I'll have to hold my breath, keep my usual low profile, and go listen to the wind in there. Or I'll try, seeing as the air is so damp...
As soon as a huge man moved out of the doorway, Whisper entered the building, taking care to slip unnoticed trough the crowd...
[dice=Stealth]1d20 + 8
...and trip over the leg of a table. Many of the tavern customers will probably turn to see what the fuss was about. As they turned, an expression of terror will paint itself on the face of the Sylph.
damn damn damn I knew this wasn't a good idea. Everyone's looking at me!
He will try to move as nonchalantly as he could (that is, not much) and take a seat near the counter.
"A glass of water, please." he will ask to the bartender with a faint voice.Okay, okay, calm down. You've screwed up secrecy, but at least you can still listen to the wind.
He will concentrate on his surroundings, and the barber will be surely what he piqued his interest the most.
Missing child, uh? Is he searching for Lamm, too? Better watch how the situation unfold and then approach him, then.
He will pull out his little journal, scribbling swiftly a little note about the barber and Doorstopper who eyed him.
That barber is 'particular'...Ifriit? Peri, maybe?
The dwarf looks at Whisper as if a goblin had just waltzed into his tavern and made off with all of the finest ales, beers, and liquors.
"Ye mind tellin' me what ye want again? I don't think I heard ye right the first time."
Barnabas holds Brasks arm for a moment."Listen. I know this should be the wrong place. But I have been to the right places now. Many times. I... I just... I can not give up!" One can hear the desperation in his voice and you guess a part of him knows there is no salvation in sight... but still there is a part of him that just won´t give up.
Deciding on a tactic, Paulus steadies himself and taps the bar to get the dwarf's attention. He leans close once the old codger comes near.
"I'm looking for a little something to help me cope through the day. My normal...associate...hasn't come around for some time, and I fear I need to find a new source for what I crave. I'm sure in a place like this you know a fellow or two that can help?
He whispers this with what he hopes is the correct inflection, putting a little quiver in his mouth near the end like he has seen some of the addicts who wander into the church do.
Leoros starts at the noise of the drunk tripping over the table. His nerves have been raw since he walked through the city gates. He drops a handful of coppers on the bar and sips his ale, hoping it might calm him a little.
His elven ears can't help but pick up the desperation in the barber's voice. Bad things continue to happen in Korvosa.
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The tall, olive-skinned Varisian walks in and looks over everyone in the tavern. With the calm assurence of one born in the slums, he sidles over to the bar.
"Red Dog ale. And when you have a moment, answers." he states in a low voice, nodding to the good stuff on the lower shelves as he puts some coin on the bar, only letting the Dwarf get a quick glimpse before covering them with his hand.
Whisper will freeze for a second when the Dwarf talks back to him.
What should I do? Maybe he's offended by me asking for water. I heard dwarfs are touchy about that. Granted, I also heard that dwarfs's brains are located in their beards, but the alcohol thing sounds at least plausible. Better order something: I hope I don't get drunk, or today I can say goodbye to my nightly run over the Shingles...
"A mug of ale, please." he will whisper very loudly, almost reaching the usual tone of a normal person.
First I blow up my cover, now I talk this loud...If someone told me 3 months ago I would be doing this, I would have laughed to death.
Well, at least I'm not being loud as that barber. It's ok to be desperate, but geez...
He will throw a quick glance to the barber, sigh, and then sit close to him.
"Calm down. Sit down." he will tell him while he tugs his sleeve.
"People might get the wrong idea. Like that guy there." he will add, pointing to the black-haired guy who before was trying (and succeeding) to be a door.
"If he's trying to sound like a Shiver addict, he's either really dumb or he has a really sick sense of humor. Not like I care." he will shrug, and in the meantime pull out his journal and look the barber in the eyes.
"But let's get to business. I heard that you're searching for a missing child. We can share information. I'm in your same situation, and while I don't usually do this, I'm actually at a standstill in my investigation." he will pull out his pen and open his journal, ready to write things down.
"First things first: have you ever heard of Gaeder Lamm?" he will ask, unconsciously saying the name of the lowlife louder.
"Rings any bells?"
Barnabas looks around and sits down next to Tyenar. In a more silent tone he will speak."I heard of him. Oh yes. Who hasn´t. I searched for days and for weeks and no luck, but here and there a piece of metal could tell me something. Just rumors, you know. I thought I would find my little precious and everything would be back to awesome. But... I did not. And while I can make some things happen... I was not able to get more.
I heard of this lamms. Of what he does to them. If I get the chance....if I get a chance, I will ask him wha up while I put some inches of finest Taldorian steel through some pieces of him. Alphabetical"
A faint blush colors his cheeks as he overhears the blunt whispers of the youth near him. He should have known better than to try. Likely he would end up dead in an alley at the end of this. The rest of the conversation catches his ear and he stops feeling sorry for himself immediately. Did he mention Lamm?
In a whispered tone: Thank you, Dawnflower, I knew you would not lead me astray.
He turns towards the youth and distraught man, not attempting to hide his interest in their conversation. Mayhaps they were possible allies?
"That's what I thought ye said." The dwarf grumbles before fixing a frothing tankard of the house special.
The first question gets you a look that is torn between disgust and anger, the request for a Red Dog Ale is met with a look of long suffering contempt, but he does fetch the ale for you.
"One bottle o' Red Dawg."
He mutters something about addicts and horse piss, but it's a little hard to make out.
Seth, having been lingering in the corner nursing an ale, notices the strangest of strangers and takes interest. Maybe I can pick something up here...
Hello there, what has you fine folk in all a fuss? Did I hear someone mention that dog Gaeder Lamm? Though, I've never heard him called the Red Dog.
Seth clenches his fist as he mentions Lamm, and has a wicked snarl on his face.
Ughh, over did it. Maybe they will be helpful anyways.
Whisper will smile briefly as he notes on his journal that the Doorman was not as dumb and/or twisted as he thought. He will then nod gravely and bluntly reply to the barber.
"Well, for good or bad, Lamm uses the children to make money. He's cruel with them, but a dead person doesn't help you turn a profit. Chances are, if she's been abducted recently, your granddaughter is still alive. Now, something more precise? A description, if you've heard that someone has seen a girl like her around the city... In that case, it would be helpful if you know where she's been seen. I suspect there's a pattern on where Lamm usually sends children."
While he talks, Whisper will flip trough the pages of his journal to find information about the granddaughter of the barber.
I'm searches I've heard something about other children abducted by Lamm...Maybe I have something on her...
He glances at the fair young man who just spoke. It smelled like a setup. Lamm had his thugs all around this part of town. He'd figure out which of these ones were out for him, and before you knew it you had a knife in your gut. Forgetting his earlier blunder, he decided he was going to let this play out before getting involved any further. If it turned out this crowd was sincere and was crying for Lamm's blood, he would surely throw in with them, but he wasn't comfortable with this lot yet.
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A few loiterers at the entrance-way quickly part as a huge young man makes his way inside. There was no sign that he hurried them intentionally. They simply reacted as most due to one of his size. The youth does not even seem to have been aware of them. It appears as though his thoughts are elsewhere. And by the downward cast of his head and his slumped shoulders, these thoughts are somewhere grim.
"Ale" he says simply to the bartender. But he quickly changes his mind and says "no. No ale." Must stay away from anything like that now. If I were seen drinking at this hour in a place like THIS.... Though it is not likely that anyone who would know me would be here. For several seconds he seems lost, then he looks around at what the other patrons are having and says "stew, nothing else."
A moment later he stiffens in his chair. Did that blond fellow just say "Gaedren Lamm"? Despite his best efforts otherwise, Nathaniel clearly shows a reaction to the name.
Having heard Lamm's name unsubtly mentioned from three different patrons gave Leoros serious pause. If Lamm didn't know he was being hunted he would by night's end, surely someone in the tavern had a friendly ear for that cutthroat. He looked to see if anyone else had taken notice and was leaving the tavern.
Another patron's head jerked up at the mention of Lamm. The most popular man in this tavern, he was. Paulus notices the man scoping out the patrons, and icy dread seizes his stomach. Could this be the one? The one who would go back to Lamm with names and faces?
Paulus started to loosen his scimitar in its scabbard, then thought better of it. Even a slightly threatening move could be deadly at this moment, could tip this man off that he, too, was looking for Lamm. He had to play it cool. Like he did those years ago. He grips his ale and takes a generous swig, nearly choking as the bitter brew travels down.
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Who is Lamm to these people? Nathaniel wonders. He notes their appearances, accents and mannerisms as best he can in the short glance that he spares them. Without betraying what he is doing he eavesdrops on their conversation, if possible, while slowly and quietly spooning his stew to his mouth.
Are there any commonalities between them? What links them to Lamm and to one another? As he contemplates, his thoughts are guided by the training he received from his old instructors. "If it does not seem right then it is probably not right. Look for anything unnatural about a man, because it usually indicates that he is hiding something or about to do something dangerous. People are not so different from dumb animals in how they reveal what they intend."
Zeverin stops outside the door, looking at the thing like it was a snake about to bite him. He takes a few deep breaths, closes his eyes, and speaks to himself what could only be a mantra for how it flowed from him. "You are in control of your actions. No one can force you to be something you are not. You have walked away from the edge of self-destruction of your own volition, and only by the strength of your own convictions will you stay pure." With that, he takes another deep breath and enters the building.
The air sickens him, not physically, but in memory of his past. He walks to the bartender, knowing that he cannot expect to stay without ordering something. "Do you have anything to drink without alcohol in it?" he asks a little more derisively than he intended, all the same licking his lips in the memory of strong drink. Things never came out sounding the way he wanted.
He looks around the room, listening to the others. He knows Lamm has moved his operations at least more than once since he left his employ. He heard there was a chance he could find a lead here, so he would have to fight his urges while he stayed.
Zeverin stops outside the door, looking at the thing like it was a snake about to bite him. He takes a few deep breaths, closes his eyes, and speaks to himself what could only be a mantra for how it flowed from him. "You are in control of your actions. No one can force you to be something you are not. You have walked away from the edge of self-destruction of your own volition, and only by the strength of your own convictions will you stay pure." With that, he takes another deep breath and enters the building.
The air sickens him, not physically, but in memory of his past. He walks to the bartender, knowing that he cannot expect to stay without ordering something. "Do you have anything to drink without alcohol in it?" he asks a little more derisively than he intended, all the same licking his lips in the memory of strong drink. Things never came out sounding the way he wanted.
He looks around the room, listening to the others. He knows Lamm has moved his operations at least more than once since he left his employ. He heard there was a chance he could find a lead here, so he would have to fight his urges while he stayed.
the dwarf looks at Zeverin for a second just before he burst into a deep rumbling laugh. It last for a few moments until he sees that the half-orc isn't laughing, or even smiling.
"Well, least ye didnae ask fer water. Emira could have some tea done fer ye in a bit, but it'll be a li'l more'n ye normally pay. Ye fine wit' that?"
Zeverin just scowls at the dwarf, his emotions really only conveyed via scowl despite the myriad of them he goes through just during the laugh and offer of tea. "Yes, fine. Tea will have to do, I guess." With that he thumps down the sum it will cost him, and waits.
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Besnik nods thanks to the dwarf and pays for the drink.
Well, you sure didn't make a good first impression with him! You have to do better than that if you are going to find that murdering... he calms himself before he makes himself more unwelcome than he already is.
As he catches Lamm's name, he takes a swing of the ale and sneaks a look over at the table with the middle-aged man and the rather strange young man.
Bracing himself with a second drink, he strolls over and stands behind them.
In a low voice, while trying to still sound friendly, he attempts to see if they know any more than he. "Good day, I am sorry to interrupt but I couldn't help overhear that you are looking for Gaedren Lamm. I was hoping to talk to him, myself." he gestures to the other chair with a questioning look.
Paulus takes a smaller sip now, more intrigued than worried at this point. Another man looking for Lamm? This must be the work of the Gods. Or specifically, Her work. He smiled to himself, then shook his head. He'd have to think quickly. Lamm would learn of this, and soon. He'd send goons, and likely move his operations. Likely both. How big was that window of opportunity? Two days? One? Likely only one. He'd have to trust in Her and seize the situation in front of him.
Zeverin shakes his head at the audacity of some, to outright call out Lamm's name. Some people just don't know. If he was still working for the cruel man, he would have informed the speaker that he had spoken out of turn, and would need to take his conversation elsewhere. Only it wouldn't have looked or sounded like that, probably a few broken knuckles and warning to keep his mouth shut. Zeverin just clenches his jaw and quietly thanks the one responsible for his new life, "Everlight, you have set me on a better path. For this I owe you my life." as he holds the holy symbol he proudly wears.
@Tyenar "Whisper" Checkeredpage
Pulling out a locket Barnabas starts to describe his precious in whispers."She is now 21 years old, but looks as if 4 or 5. She got my hairs, they used to flow to the middle of her back with the same coloured eyes as me. She was wearing a dress of lavender cotton, with short sleeves and supple leather boots. She was sent from me to bring a special hair tonic to one of my customers. I know, I shouldn´t have done it but she begs so sweetly. That was 6 weeks ago on the day. I spent nearly all my fortune searching her, nearly nothing is left. If I just had a hint where to search I would armor-up and get her!"
@Seth Brickhand
"Well, Sir, he is a stain on the face of this city. I do not know why the watch has not ended this blight. Well, maybe because of his lamms and he is the guardian dog. But the guardian dog from hell, sent by one of the dukes himself, the way he treats people!"
@Besnik Brastle "Well Sir, it seems this turd has made some friends of the way. It seems a lot of people would like to meet him. If we do, we can play a game of Have you met Pharasma?"
Whisper's eyes will open wide from embarrassment as the dwarf mentions his previous order. A blow of hot air will move his hairs and a little swirl will run up from his neck, disappearing then in his silver hair.
So he noticed?Uh...
Focusing again on his work, the Sylph will resume flipping trough the pages of his journal, searching for a clue on the girl. He will bite his lip at the mention of the circumstances of the girl's disappearance.
"The same happened to little Ander. 8 years, human, blonde, tall for his age. His mother's only joy. Went to do some errands: a moment was there, and then he wasn't." he will stop talking to the barber for a second to look at his notes. "I heard that he has been seen in the same plaza, more than once, but I don't know where. Cutting purses, I heard. If Lamm stations the kids always in the same places, or areas, we could look for a pattern and limit the places where we may find them..."
He will stop when two men approach them. It seemed they were looking for Lamm too. Whisper will study them for a second, and then start scribbling his notes. "Sit down. We're searching for two missing children. We were trying to find some patterns in Lamm's assignments for his 'Little Lambs' and his other wrongdoings. Clues? Ideas? Personal experiences?"
"Desna weeps,"Leoros spat under his breath. That the Starsong would lead him here on this night either spoke to her favor or disdain. As casual as possible he rises from his perch at the bar and walks to the throng forming in the center of the tavern.
"Gentlemen, when one goes hunting lions, it's best not to plan your attack loudly and at the mouth of the beast's den."He pauses to take a look over the other patrons, "You never know what jackals may be lurking about."
@Leoros "Yes, well, this fiend took my beloved from me and I will never get her back. It would be a great tragedy for others to fall victim to his little games. I intend to quarrel with this filth, and then I will keep him from performing his nefarious acts again."
@The gathering of people in a lower tone "Leoros is right, however. Perhaps we should convene somewhere else, though I do not know where might be safe and inaccessible to Lamm's people. One thing is for certain, our meeting here could not be by chance. I think we were meant to help one another. These are difficult times..."
@Leoros"Desna smiles, but she's a busy lady."
@Barnabas"And a pretty highborn isn't the type Lamm usually targets for grifting and soldiery, too good a chance of being recognized in her own town. No, but he might sell such a child. How long ago did she vanish?"
" Oh we are not of the nobility. But if you trade with them, you need to keep apearance up. And frankly nothing suits me like a suit. It helps with the ladies, you know. But right now I would trade all the suits in the world to see her again. It has been 6 weeks to this day"
Paulus nods at the wisdom of the scarred fellow, and sighs in relief. That one had initially looked like a potential spotter for Lamm. Most of the conspirators looked like dangerous men.
Likely they were dangerous boys, as well.
If they could move quickly, Lamm's corruption of the youth of Korvosa would soon be at an end. He wavers...he doesn't want to join them, not in this place, but he realizes if he leaves when they do he'll be noted anyway. Or even assaulted by this group, if they think ill of his intentions. He rises and joins them at their table.
He speaks in a low tone, but with conviction: "The Dawnflower is the goddess of healing, and Korvosa is in great need. Yet no wound can heal while the rot and corruption within still festers. I will join with you to bring this man down. We must act quickly. I am sure we are attracting attention."
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The big man sitting near the crowd turned to face them with a questioning look. He mutters just loud enough to be heard "If the rest of you have been wrong by...this person...as well he pauses and shifts his eyes about the scan the rest of the room "then he is right" indicating Leoros with a gesture of his eyes.
"But if someone here is allied with...the person in question...that ally would pay attention to this forming group and either leave right before or soon after. Instead of making haste to meet and discuss, perhaps we should keep and eye on the doorway here after we move away a bit."
Realizing that he has just invited himself into the group, Nathaniel adds "I have reason to seek out the same one you all do, it seems."
The weather outside the tavern looks to be taking a turn for the worse. the wind has picked up, there is a heavy moisture in the air, the skys are darkening.
there is a storm brewing, There is an old Poem that says:
"By the pricking of my thumbs,
something wicked this way comes.
Then toll the bells both loud and deep,
God is not dead, nor doth he sleep.
The wrong will fail, the right prevail,
With peace on Earth, good will toward men"
"Ill winds mark its fearsome flight,
and autumn branches creak with fright.
The landscape turns to ashen crumbs,
when something wicked this way comes.
Crystal water turns to dark,
where e'er its presence leaves its mark,
and boiling currents pound like drums,
when something wicked this way comes.
A presence dark invades the fair,
and gives the horses ample scare,
for chaos reigns and panic numbs,
when something wicked this way comes."
The doors of the tavern fly open in the winds of the coming storm, standing in the doorway a thin half elven man long strangly hair, wet from the beging rain, a tattered scabbard holding an old short sword. and a weather beaten quiver of arrows and logbow at the ready.
the man enters and removes his wet cloak. with a shake he hangs it on a hook by the door.
he heads to the bar ordering milk and some stew.
He fumbles through his pouch looking for enough coin to pay. his hads show he is no stranger to hard times. he shakes slightly like one suffering withdraws of some addiction.
"I just wish... that a few stronghearted fellows woul band up and show that true valour is not a rare commodity in our fine town!
"Aye. I am with you, good sir. And I have no doubt She will be with us, as well. Let us plan, and quickly. We must find him before he flees to another hole."
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Besnik sits down and listens to the various discussions about Lamm. He shakes his head at those who speak out loud about the possibility of spies.
They will have to learn how to curb their tongues if they are going to go hunting for this snake! Of course he has spies about, but you don't let them know you are watching them!
He looks at Barnabas and sighs, trying to break it to him gently.
I don't want to dash your hopes, there is always a chance to find your granddaughter alive; but you should also prepare yourself for the worst. Six weeks without any kind of ransom demand is a bad sign. Life is cheap in Lamm's world. Trust me, I know..." he finishes with only a faint touch of bitterness.
"But, yes, it seems as though there are quite a few of us who have been bitten by this snake. We should turn the tables and show him how it feels. We know the city guards aren't going to do anything."
Zeverin can't help but let out a loud , before he shirks realizing he said it aloud. Instead of trying to ignore it, he explains himself. "The man has no need for ransom, or killing outright. If he has or takes anything, it's to use it. For his own ends, as either a bargaining chip to keep a meddler in line, or to do his own dirty work." He nods respectfully to the man mentioning the Dawnflower, pointing to the symbol he himself wears, before he sips his tea and continues.
"Look, if that makes you feel bad for your loved ones, well you should, because Lamm will do anything to get his way. But all this bravado and bluster isn't going to get you anywhere except a heap of unwanted attention."
He turns to the large young man that mentioned what Lamm's allies would do. "Any 'friend' of Lamm, that is worth keeping in his employ, wouldn't leave so soon. He would spit curses right alongside you. He would look like the strongest supporter, do his best to get into your confidences, find out where you meet, and help you make your plans." He slams his fist down on the table, to hammer home his point "Then he would share all this with Lamm to set you all up to fall. Maybe talk you into meeting in some old warehouse, before they lock you in and burn it down. Maybe they would find some way to frame you, for some darker crime, set the guards he has paid off on your trail."
He takes another sip of his tea, "No, all you'll find from sitting together and plotting the downfall of a man like Lamm in some common tavern is yourself worse off than you would had you just kept your mouth shut. You don't take a snake like that down with brash words spoken across the mouth of a mug of ale. You watch your backs, speak in veiled whispers, meet in private, and most importantly, you don't let anyone know it's Lamm your talking about."
A brief salute to the follower of Sarenrae. The man spoke sense. Yet...
"Friend, I agree with you wholeheartedly. However, this cart has already started rolling, so to speak. What's done is done. I'd prefer swift action with the intent of overwhelming our adversary then dispersing and being hunted one by one."
He swiftly locks eyes with each of the conspirators before continuing.
"Any one of us could be a snake in the grass. However, I feel the divine at work, and no matter what you may believe, I can sense the presence of my goddess in this. It was She who guided me here, and here you all are. All people with a single purpose, a united goal. Out of a city of how many? My Lady is at work, and I will not fear if I am doing Her will."
Zeverin's eyes go wide as the man finishes his comments, "You're right. There is an awful lot of people here.... all with something against....Oh no!" He rushes over to the front door and jerks it open harder than needed, breathing a minor sigh of relief, he steps out and looks both ways, before he darts back inside. He closes the door, but not fully, keeping his foot in it to prevent it from latching. Paranoid he keeps darting glances outside. "I don't see anyone, but I sure as heck am not getting burned alive in here with the lot of you." With that he returns to scrutinizing anyone that passes by the front of the building.
"Never thought I'd say this, but no more tea fer Mr. Jumpy thar." The gathering crowd can here Brask say.
Whisper will bite his lip as others reprehend him for his lack of secrecy.
"You're right."
Doing an amateur error like this... what in the Nine Hells is happening to me? Today I've done an error after another, completely forgetting what I've learned in a lifetime... Is finding Ander really that important to me?
"Still, I never saw the thugs of our 'friend' around. I guess there aren't many people working for him anyway: both the Varisian gangs and the Law doesn't consider him a real threat, and I think you're supposed to command some respect from your underlings. Or pay them an ungodly amount of money." He won't even raise his head from his journal while talking, scribbling furiously the information the others are giving him.
"What I'm getting at is: how many people would work for a child-abusing, minor criminal? I mean, even the Sczarni have more principles than our mutual friend, and that's saying much! Why would you chose to work for him, and not someone else?"
"Not because he is an awesome personality. People like that rule by fear, bribery, and guile. True story!"
"Hmm, I'm inclined to agree with this one." Seth says, gesturing to Whisper.
"They wouldn't have to be friends of our mutual acquaintance, plenty of coin for freelance eyes and ears in the alleys."
A tall man, in a coat of hide over homespun clothes of brown and green steps through the inns front door. A brief spatter of rain follows him in. A club of oak hangs at his belt, along with a trio of daggers as a counter balance on his other hip. The hilts of two more daggers protrude from each of his boot tops. His craggy Ulfen face is drawn with worry, as he takes in the taprooms interior, as well as its occupants.
With a sigh, the brown haired fellow strides across the floor to the bar, dodging a flustered serving girl in the process.
Garran does not feel hungry, his stomach is knotted with worry for his daughter, but he knows his body needs sustenance.
Arriving at the bar, he sets some coin on the bar. "One of your ales, and a plate of food, if you will."
Garran takes a sip from the frothy mug, then licks the foam from his short, neatly trimmed mustache.
Then a half-orc, lets out a loud Ha!
Those men in the corner are talking heatedly about something, and Garran's gut tells him it is important. He hears the name Lamm for the first time. Whatever those fellows are talking about, Garran decides he needs to hear more. Taking his mug, Garran casually moves to an empty table, close enough to overhear the men talking about Lamm. Garran sips at his ale, waits for his food and listens, frowning at the half-orcs strange outburst, then giving the tiniest flicker of a smile at the bartenders comment.
Seamus loved this inn. The barkeep was kind. As long as Seamus had coins, he served the boy hot food and never commented on his dirt streaked face or threadbare homespun. Today had been like many others, filled with begging and searching. Lamm must die. But he had enough coin to fill his belly with stew and his mouth with a thick beer. This was a nice place. Seamus had planned to spend most of the night here enjoying the warmth before the innkeeper would be forced to ask him to leave.
Then these men came and started talking about the hated Lamm. Seamus tried to keep silent. He did. There was safety in silence. Speaking brought attention. Attention brought beatings. But the old man -- the clean man -- his story about his granddaughter reminded Seamus of the terror he had experienced as a Lamb.
Seamus blurts out. Thinking about all the attention he might have brought on himself he continues stuttering in a quieter voice. "He-he is a b-bad ma-an. He-he used to be-eat me-e-e."
The handsome but rather dirty youth scrunches his shoulders as if expecting to be beaten now.
Lluvia makes no sound as she enters and pushes the hood of her deep brown cloak back, unveiling dark brown hair. She's a tall elven woman who might be described as beautiful by some and impish in a cute way with just a bit too expressive features by others. She stands calmly for a few moments and listens to the sounds, but the smooth impression is somewhat spoiled by the nerveous way her ears shift and her deep green eyes in the otherwise grey-brown face flit across the room. A strange detail is the brooch that holds her cloak - made of metal in the shape of Desna's holy symbol, yet jet black with tiny shards of glass attached to the wings.
She can't help but smile when she walks up to the bar. Thirty years back, when she left the Mierani Forest for Absalom she would have been terrified by the noise and the heat and the smell. Ten years back in Absalom she had gotten used to it. Now she starts to like it. Even the shade of her skin and hair has adapted to the city. And, of course, the darkness.
She waves the bartender with one hand and puts the other onto the bar as she reaches it. She waits until she has his attention and comes to pick up her orders. "A good day, sir. I should like a wine with water if you have, otherwise an ale should suffice."
She picked up "child abuse" as she entered and turns her attention to the strange woman with white hair that seems to be afloat with a breeze that isn't there. As soon as the bartender picks up her offer she looks straight at her and listens to the woman and the people around her, even though the woman speaks so softly that even Lluvia's fine ears can only make out fragments.
She's here for Lamm and his drug cartel, but there is hardly anything more disgusting and terrifying than taking advantage of children and she is not going to leave any child in hopeless darkness - even she almost got lost in the darkness within and without, and she was 140 years old, then.