Meanwhile in the ante-chamber, a man runs through the front door, bashing his head on the top of the door frame as he enters. Grunting, he ambles over to the front desk which he leans on to catch his breath. The desk groans as he places his weight on it and even doubled over he towers over the receptionist.
"Oh not again...the last bump just healed." he says, gingerly rubbing his head. For several moments he lingers at the desk, then finally his attention snaps to the ticket-taker. "Listen, sir, my apologies. I don't have no ticket for you. I'm supposed to be here with...ah...who was it now? One of those nasty mine-men I think. Smirk? Or Smuck? Smonk? You got to know his name! I was supposed to accompany him here. He'll certainly fire me again if he realizes how late I am, so perhaps you can just let me in?" With a feeble grin the giant put his hands together in a mock praying gesture.
Queslin sees the situation building around Smenk and face palms. He didn't mean for his comment to inspire such trouble. He gets up and approaches. "Wait! Wait! I didn't take offense. You're only making things worse. Stop insulting him. This is so unnecessary. Leave him alone. Just go away. Just stop and go away." He pleads.
Scraps checks his front pockets, followed by his back pockets, followed by his side pockets, followed by his front pockets, followed by his back pockets, followed by the secret shoulder pocket he'd nearly forgotten about, followed by the back pockets again. "Mmm. Yes. Three nobles. Sir. I seem to've forgot to bring any nobles. But, you let me in, I'll find the mine-man, get my pay, and come back out. Actually, no, I believe he mentioned he had my ticket with him, I'll get that. Or maybe, he already paid my fare up front? Yes, I just remembered now, he did."
'Gods help me,' Rune thought, entering the ante-chamber of the Emporium to find a rather large man emptying what seemed to be a thousand pockets. His head was still throbbing from a night spent drowning his sorrows at The Feral Dog, and no matter how many times he rubbed his bleary eyes his vision refused to clear.
'I just want an ale, he muttered, clenching the ticket he had won in a drunken gamble the night before tightly as he waited. He had never even been into the Emporium, and the idea of spending an evening indoors with good ale and beautiful women was more than enough to encourage him to be patient. He stood and watched the large man with indifference, hoping that the doorman would let him in soon.
Taking a moment too long to recognize the dwarf she wound up hiding behind Chaetris fails to answer before he turns to the commotion. "Huh, I don't think I've ever seen Bergrom in the light before."
Watching the Dwarves stand up to Smenk, she realizes that she hasn't worked in his mine for a few years and he probably wouldn't recognize her anyway.
With the tension so think you could cut it with a knife, Aria instinctively reaches for the the comfort of her bow, only to find it not there. "Right... I left it tucked safely at home," she thinks to herself as she rests her hand on the hilt of her knife. Aria then watches the conflict with interest, torn between stepping in to defend her kind and keeping out of the sight of Smenk. As conflicting impulses drive her, a silent chant runs through Aria's mind.
"Please don't do something stupid ... Please don't do something stupid ... Please don't do something stupid"
Merlovaur turns and nods at Bergrom. "Sir, I appreciate the intent of your comments, but I am afraid that you have insulted the drow race. Even my misguided kin from the Dark Lands would not act with such wanton, boorishness."
He then turns back to Balabar and bars his teeth. "I do solemnly apologize to you and Kurlag ... for the beating he is about to receive!"
Merlovaur then points to Kurlag and motions the half ogre forward.
Turning back to Balabar, Merlovaur smiles as he unbuckles his curved sword and war blade and places them on a nearby table. "But perhaps we can make this a bit more interesting? Why waste a good brawl without some sort of wager? I believe the mage is correct, Lord Smenk, that you are a business man whom understands profit, if nothing else. So perhaps you may benefit further this fateful evening if your peerless minion serves you as expected. I propose that in the unlikely event that I am able to beat the mountain Kurlag into submission, then you and your men will leave this establishment and you will allow my friends and the dear ladies of this exquisite emporium to celebrate the birthday of sir Shag in peace and without further intimidation. But on the other hand, if the beast Kurlag carries the day, then I will duly offer my services in the depths of your mine for one month, without cost and without complaint. What say you, Lord Smenk?"
