In an expensive hotel in Martira Bay

[Rotipher of the FoS]

A tip of the hat to Serd, that the man knew when to fold a losing hand. Seeming unphased by his failed ploy with the drugged drink, the merchant as much as confessed it aloud, by opting to send the untouched mug off with the serving-maid. But unfortunately, Draxton's action put the bard in an awkward position, seemingly without realizing it. Again, how very like a Richemulouise.

Cursing inwardly -- didn't this snake realize the kitchen-staff would hardly pass up the chance for a free beer? -- the spy seized on his "salty maritime trader" cover-persona as a convenient excuse to avert potential misfortune. He leaned forward and spat the grape-seeds he'd been holding in his cheek (again, a rare treat in wintertime, to suck on for the flavor) into the unclaimed lager's suds, before the elven waitress could pick up the tankard.

"'A bit off'? Swill's more like it," Crow griped vociferously, slouching over the table and shooting the startled elf-maid a dirty look. His accent and mannerisms effortlessly slid several notches down the socioeconomic ladder, as he grumbled crude remarks about the brewer's presumed intellect and ancestry. As the offended server retreated -- no doubt, off to spread more tales about human outsiders' distasteful habits -- the bard straightened up, adjusted his cuffs, and reverted to a more-civilized show of manners. After that, he doubted if she'd even pause to pass on Serd's drink-order, before pouring the beer down the sink in revulsion at his rudeness.

"Really, sir," he pointedly observed to the Richemulouise. "No need to... confuse the servants more than necessary. Common speech for common folk, and so forth; leave delicate matters for those of a rank to appreciate a certain... subtlety."

Tossing back a quick swig of brandy -- yes, it was the real stuff, not that any-fruit-in-a-storm turpentine which the distillers near Zeidenberg claimed was palinca -- the bard narrowed his eyes at the merchant in a You're-Paying-For-My-Drink-Anyway, I-Just-Covered-Your-Arse display of smugness. Then he continued, as if he'd not just saved Serd from potentially poisoning one of the hotel's staff as collateral damage ... and hence, getting all three of them lynched, were the drug indeed a life-threatening one:

"Know 'many things'...? A little, sir, a little at least. Can't say that I could recommend an alternative venue of sale, for that particular exotic commodity, though ... at least, not without breaching 'guild secrets', I couldn't!" He chuckled lightly, 'idly' tilting his head toward the bodyguard, as he did so. Again, a veiled reminder that unworthy ears were present.

"However, there might still be another -- and a mutually-profitable -- option available, here and now. That is, if you're not averse to a little partnership in the intended transaction...."

The bard leaned conspiratorially forward, interposing himself fully between Dadrag and Serd, to obstruct the bodyguard's view of his employer's features. The hireling was good -- almost too good -- but Crow'd noted how the man's faint gulps from his raised mug ceased, so as not to drown out the sound of his tablemates' voices, each time either he or the merchant spoke aloud. The spy'd almost missed it; again, the bard was impressed, and with due cause, by this 'Dadrag's' professonalism.

But it was the merchant's suspicions he really needed to probe, not the bodyguard's. Hoping he'd passed enough of the Richemulouise trader's picky little tests by now, Crow waited to see if the man would rise to his bait.


[OOC: Just barely beat Dadrag's Bluff result (29 also for Sense Motive)! Crow's own Bluff roll [in its 'seduction' application] to make his proposal sound like a super deal for Serd is 34. OTOH, his Sense Motive check to intuit Draxton's murderous thoughts about "Curwin" is only 23: if Serd can beat that, the bard won't (yet!) realize that alhoon's PC is ruthless enough to murder a "fellow-Brother" to hide his own secrets from the rest of the Frat. ]

[alhoon]

"I appreciate partnership. However I don't appreciate poor manners for not important reasons." The man really cared if some idiot would quaff the beer? Strange. More probably the man was just trying to agitate him; and he was succeeding. However that was just more probably. Perhaps the man cared for avoiding a poisoning even if that seemed extremely strange for a fraternity member.

Smiling a bit, he added in mild tones. "I would accept partnership in this particular case however. It seems profitable." The man's proposition seemed genuie enough. And if it was not, then accidents could happen along the way, especially when they were alone.
The man also seemed a bit intent in reminding Dadrag of Serd's secretly nature. Strange again. Just in case, he would need to consolidate Dadrag's trust.

OOC> Draxton's social skills are very good. I give him a +5 Circumstance bonus on the sense motive check for the offer since he doesn't trust the strange man... and he failed miserably. 22 Total.
As for the bluff check he gets a 24... phewwww

[VAN]

Dadrag’s face remains expressionless as Crow interposes himself between him and Draxton. The mercenary doesn’t want to give any satisfaction at the mysterious man who seems have something in common with the wizard. Only a flash of anger which gets for an instant his steel-blue eyes can betray his thoughts.

Dadrag has lived for long time in the land of secrets and knew very well that any information, even the most insignificant, can be very important if someone know how to use it. So despite he doesn’t really care about Draxton or where he really has met this man, or what he was up to, the ex-assassin wants to gather more information possible about both men. But this Curwin fellow seems very intelligent and seems to know how to protect himself from the indiscrete eyes and ears. The way he had treated the barwoman in order to save them and the glance he gave to Draxton soon after it was another evidence. Dadrag believes that the bard and the wizard have started a kind of intelligence duel, like playing chess. Something in this this situation starts bother the ex-assassin, he has started to believe that is something weird in Curwin’s presence in the inn and at his attitude. It isn’t normal first spy on them, when he has been caught, says he already knows Draxton. He understand that Serd has offered him a poisoned beer, rests there talking with him, trying to cover himself from mercenary’s eyes and at the same time protects them from the inn’s staff. It’s the generous of man Dadrag hates, the experienced one.

[Rotipher of the FoS]

"Profitable, indeed ... if your wares are all they're rumored to be," the bard replied speculatively, sipping his brandy more slowly now that he knew its quality. "I would, of course, need to verify that fact, before any such arrangement could be formalized. The potential … buyer … I propose to introduce you to – a man whom, I guarantee, you’d never track down on your own – is an excellent appraiser of such… merchandise; one might call him a collector of sorts. He would be unimpressed by shoddy goods.

"But that’s not the only issue that must be resolved, before mutual cooperation becomes an option. As you, yourself, have implied, the two of you don't normally conduct business in this town. I do, routinely, and my financial stake in Nevuchar Springs’ future development is not a meager one. I'll not see my reputation for discretion, as a purveyor of … luxuries … spoiled by the overbearing, big-city tactics of temporary associates, uninformed as to local politics.”

Crow set down his drink, and looked pointedly at the merchant.

"This, Master Serd, is a small community, made smaller-still by its residents' futile determination to keep the influence of outsiders – myself among them – at bay. Most of the sheep-brained provincials here have known each other as neighbors, for longer than you, your parents, and their parents have collectively been alive! It's taken me years to gather the degree of clout I now have, and it'll take me still more work, merely to retain that status long enough for this backwater to make something of itself. A petty social faux pas changes nothing: to these folk, it only confirms how beastly they deem we foreigners to be, a bias neither you nor I will live long enough to change. I'll never be 'acceptable' to their conservative mores, even if I did pander to the snootiness of serving-maids ... so why waste time trying to be? The select few elves I do business with couldn't care less about my manners, only about stuffing their own purses and satisfying certain... tastes.

"But any action potentially construed as a threat to their fellows – even if directed against individuals who’ve otherwise made themselves quite unpopular, by coddling we visiting outsiders – won't be dismissed as somebody else's problem, in a town like this one. This isn't Richemulot, where crimes are tried on the basis of which party knows the more-sordid information about the magistrate presiding; it's not even Martira Bay, where yet another gutted corpse that floats in on the tide is just a navigation-hazard." Crow paused for another sip of palinca, his eyes flicking for an instant to the bodyguard, as he did so.

"We're several days' hard sail from the nearest port, gentlemen, and an even longer ride toward any feasible refuge, for a fugitive on the run. Harm done to these people will be investigated. Not solely through mundane means, either: there's a whole sect of clergy here, who'd be delighted to flush out 'corrupt agents of the Night' – not quite on par with professional interrogators as yet, but they're learning fast – and more than a few locals of a druidical bent ... with all the mystical powers, divinatory in particular, such affinities entail. As outsiders, we are the suspects of preference, should any misfortune come to pass that smacks of malign intent. The local Baron has a grudge against lying foreigners who break laws in his bailiwick and then flee his justice – some tawdry past incident involving riverfolk, a gold-digging cabaret singer, and murder, or so I gather – and he’ll happily redirect that stymied anger towards other foreign offenders, even for petty crimes, if given an excuse. Not giving him one is the main reason I’ve not long since been run out of town, myself.

"Nor is the guild I'm affiliated with the only such... enterprise, to keep tabs on developments in Nevuchar Springs. This town, in spite of itself, is becoming a bastion of trade; I'll vouch there are representatives from at least two rival cartels posted here, to monitor who holds the reins of economics. One, based due west of Maykle, the other... a bit farther downriver." More flicks and narrowings of eye – to his sigil-ring, to Serd, to Serd again – at the revealing words "guild", "bastion", and "reigns".

"Best to maintain a certain decorum, in an environment of this sort, rather than let carelessness stir up some needless ... misunderstanding ... with outraged locals, yes? Again, I have to work in this town, even if you might never set foot here again. If you're looking to do business with me, Master Serd, or in Nevuchar Springs, you'll follow my example in this, and try to exercise greater-than-customary... prudence ... in your methods."

And Crow's gaze shifted again, to Draxton's mug-gripping hand ... and the ring the Richemulouise wore. It was plainly not sigil-marked, but the spy would bet the whole bottle of palinca it contained poison, if Serd's habits were as stereotypical as precedent implied.

[OOC: Sorry that one got way long, but the bard was on a roll. Dice-wise, too: including a +3 circ-bonus because so much of what he says is true (e.g. the Kargat really do monitor Bastion Raines' activities; they'd be idiots not to keep tabs on such a hothead! ), his Bluff check's a 36 for this one. Basically, he's covering for the stunt with the beer, warning the pair to leave the locals alone, and convincing Serd he’d need “Curwin’s” help to avoid stumbling into Kargat or Unholy Order agents, all in one marathon, monologue lie! He still didn't pick up on the merchant's lethal intent, though (Draxton's thoughts in the last post seemed too brief to merit a second roll), and I didn't have him Sense Motive to detect Dadrag's anger since he was focusing his attention on Serd rather than the bodyguard.]

[alhoon]

Draxton smiled. He had Curwin cornered it seems. The man was good in innuendo but didn't know enough of Draxton. Did the fool think that Draxton would leave corpses around? That he didn't know how small communities work? And druids? Divinatory power of Druids?

"Dear Curwin, I really doupt if a man that believes the divinatory powers of Druids are something to reckon, can check the quality of things I trade.
Also please, don't think I'm a fool. We both know the human clerics of Ezra near this town are quite annoyed with the elves' haughtyness. They wouldn't put much effort in this.
You have business in this town you claim? Could you prove that please? This backwater town is a port after all, so perhaps I'll invest in here too in the future. Business opportunities interest me a alot. Especially if this buyer you know is also a member of your merchant guild. Perhaps then we can discuss some business opportunities here in case you want another employer."
Draxton smiles invitatively.
"Think on it while I visit the restroom. I'm an old man you see and when I have to go, I have to go."
Draxton moves to the toilet and once there checks he is alone. Then he casts a detect magic spell. If things didn't work well, he would cast a detect thoughts spell later. After a minute he walks out of the room and slowly approaches the table, all the time concetrating on the magical auras.

OOC> Draxton believes Curwin is dealing in black Market here. He wants him to confirm it just in case and to see if himself would be interested. Draxton is a merchant after all. Curwin seems to him capable enough to get as an employee in Nevuchar springs.
He has been convinced to not seek the Bastion and to pay a visit to Curwin's secret ascosiate later, although he is not convinced that such a person exists.

OOC> number and Power of Curwen's magic items?

[Rotipher of the FoS]

[OOC: Before Serd comes back, the bard's going to feel out the hireling's reactions a little ... you're up to respond to this first, VAN, then I'll fill in alhoon on what Draxton's spell reveals. ]

Not terribly surprised by the merchant's "call of nature" -- even if the man weren't already considering it, the bard's own remarks certainly would have perked up his curiosity as to why "Curwin" was divination-shy -- Crow lounges back in his seat, props a foot on Serd's vacated chair in a flagrant display of disdain for the man, and tips his brandy-glass to the eavesdropping mercenary.

"Enjoying the show, are you?," he remarks, as if content to gossip behind Draxton's back. "I suppose there must be some entertainment-value in working for a man who so plainly knows everything at the outset, even if reality might disagree from time to time..."

He casually gestures to the palinca-bottle, indicating that Dadrag is welcome to sample a far better quality of drink than watery Mistlands ale, if he likes. Not that the VRS spy expects such trivial courtesies to sway the hireling's loyalties -- if he's reading Serd's personality accurately, any militant-type whom the Richemulouise merchant hired would gut his own daughters for pocket change, let alone some chap who'd stood him a drink! -- but the man's reaction might prove informative.

[VAN]

Dadrag doesn’t even try to mask his ironical smile at Curwin’s attitude change. He expected that, he already knew that the bard was trying to get Serd’s sympathy, but he doesn’t know why. At Curwin’s comment about Draxton he just rises his glass and drinks. Then, says:

“I don’t lament. It’s really easy working for a man like Draxton. You meet people, you make arrangements etc. Easy life for a mercenary. He pays well, that counts for me. What about you? It seems you know many people and many customs Curwin. You are a merchant too?”

Dadrag doesn’t make any move to serve himself palinca. He plainly drinks his ale.

OOC> Bluff DC 30 (Wow, my new die is really good! ) to see that Dadrag doesn’t care only for the money, he knows that Draxton is a noble, so he want get more from him.

An easy sense motive to understand that Dadrag want to say: “you will not buy my services just with a source of palinca.”

[Rotipher of the FoS]

[OOC: Missed the Sense Motive roll for Dadrag's ulterior motives. Guess that is a good die, VAN! Sorry I was off the thread for so long, BTW; I just got the last of my grades submitted for my anatomy classes, however, so I'm finally free to haunt the boards for the rest of the summer. ]

The bard nods and cocks his head attentively at the mercenary's reply, honestly demonstrating his keen interest in Dadrag's opinion of his boss. At the refusal of his offer of palinca, he expressed neither surprise nor offense; he simply gives a 'Suit-Yourself' shrug, and knocks back another swallow from his own brandy-shifter.

Crow's first impression of Serd had been one of repulsion, and he wasn't sure he was going to like this bodyguard much better. Even if he did have a sense of humor, Dadrag's was clearly nothing like the bard's; he seemed wound too tight, and rather boring in his grimness. Still, Crow had to allow the man high marks for professionalism: a lower caliber of thug would have accepted the drink while his employer wasn't looking, then lied to Serd's face to disavow any glimmer of conflict-of-interest.

Setting his drained glass aside, the bard filled it anew from the bottle -- so long as he'd be sticking the merchant with the tab, he might as well get the other man's money's worth -- and answered the mercenery's query, letting his voice grow thoughtful as he spoke:

"Not... exactly. I'm more of a ... facilitator, you might say. I do know a lot of people in these parts, I daresay: their names, their... needs. Sometimes, meeting those needs -- with discretion -- permits me to turn a considerable profit. I suppose that, in some respects, our tasks may overlap; I, too, make arrangements, usually for those who cannot venture overseas to negotiate these affairs for themselves. Some, for reasons of limited mobility; others, to maintain a certain.... distance from their bargainings, lest outside observers ... take their dealings the wrong way.

"Your employer... would you say that he's a fair dealer, in such matters? Are his trading-interests the sort which might prove worth pursuing, for someone in my particular line...?"

The bard cocks an eyebrow enquiringly at the mercenary.

[OOC: Easy Bluff roll to convey the impression that "Curwin" is involved in smuggling and/or trading in illegal commodities. No need for a Sense Motive check to tell that he's being very evasive; it's what a real smuggler would do, as he "feels out" a potential new contact. ]

[VAN]

Dadrag nods in understanding as Crow speaks; he understands further more than what the bard has said. It seems that Draxton and Curwin were not as different as they seemed. At Crow’s question the mercenary just smiles and says:

“You are an intelligent man Curwin. Don’t ask me questions you already know the answer or you already know that I don’t know the answer. Now, may you tell me about the pretty color of your face?”

And in lower voice adds:

“It will be just between you and me.”

OOC> Wow, I cannot believe in my eyes ! A 20 at sense motive ! What numbers I get with my new die! I hope the luck going on for some more time!

OOC2> Dadrag changes his behavior a bit against Crow because he understands that the bard may hire him eventually at the future.

[Rotipher of the FoS]

[OOC: Mind if I borrow that new die, VAN? ]

The bard snickered aloud, a grating bray of a laugh he'd painstakingly designed to make his shady "Curwin" persona as socially-distasteful as possible. He set his glass aside and leaned back in his seat once more, drew a handkerchief from his coat-pocket and began idly polishing the collection of gaudy rings he wore on each hand, likewise to make his seaman's persona seem gauche and over-flashy.

"Pardon me, friend," he replied, a touch of sarcasm in his voice, as he quoted the mercenary's previous greeting back at him. "But I could've sworn I'd overheard someone saying it's best not to ask questions one doesn't expect an answer to, not so very long ago! Some facts are, I fear, far more wisely kept between me and me, not me and others...."

He paused in his ring-buffing, as if struck by a passing thought, and peered more closely at the mercenary, eyes squinting in speculation.

"...but then, a man such as yourself would know that, wouldn't he? It's not so rare as all that, for unwelcome circumstances to recommend leaving one's face -- or one's name, or one's past -- behind. Best to think of what's to come, not of what once was, for men like ourselves."

Crow's eyes narrowed further, as if seeing a suspicion confirmed in the bodyguard's appearance or reaction. His body language appeared to substantiate his look, hinting that "Curwin" recognized something in the Darkonian's bearing or features: something Dadrag, himself, might not care to have bandied about.

The implied message was clear: -- I'm not the only one with secrets, here -- Other ears than Serd's might be interested in yours, should you force my hand -- Honor my privacy and I'll honor yours --

(It was a shot in the dark, on the bard's part ... but not too dark. His earlier eavesdropping had implied a criminal history for this man -- "Dadrag", or whatever his name really was -- and his demeanor smacked more of the civilian thug than of formal military training. Not many honest civilians would have spotted his spying, nor his makeup. And the man's accent was true Darkonian, yet he was evidently on a Richemulouise's payroll. In Crow's experience, few native folk of Darkon would even consider leaving their homeland to seek out work, barring financial desperation -- unlikely, given how unrest in the lich's kingdom had made it a seller's market for swordsmen, these days! -- or a pressing need to escape their enemies.

(If even Van Richten had left his native land only with the threat of a lich-king's retribution on his heels, then what dread shadow or shame might this man have been running from? Admittedly, the spy doubted if he actually needed to know -- it was Draxton's knowledge that posed an issue for his mission, not his own 'small talk' with a hireling -- but his curiosity was piqued.)

You push me, Master Mercenary, I'll push back. Don't expect me to cave in under pressure, just because you've sharp eyes and a scathing tongue! Still, there's no need to be uncivilized about this, whatever you might've been used to in your mis-spent youth; if working with the Richemulouise has taught you anything, it's surely to keep your cards close to your chest, until it's time to play them. Best if you respect that stance on my part, as well.

So long as we're entertaining you, kindly sit back and let me finish this round with your boss, and save our match for another day. Speaking of which....

Knowing that Serd's divination-casting likely would be complete at any moment, the bard re-corked the palinca bottle, then plucked it from the table and made it vanish into the depths of his mariner's coat, tipping a sly 'Now-This-Really-Is-Just-Between-Us' wink to the mercenary, as he did so.

If the merchant assumed that the serving-staff had retrieved it, that would tell Crow something more about the employer ... or about the employee, if Dadrag saw fit to rat out his kyping the remaining brandy.

Either way, a really good palinca was hard to find.


[OOC: Bluff roll is a 31, for hinting Crow knows anything specific about your PC's past, VAN ... but the implication he suspects things is quite genuine, so even if your 20 beats his roll, Dadrag should realize this "Curwin" sized him up rather well. Not so well the ex-assassin would need to kill him, but enough that it might be prudent to change the subject. Crow's making two Sense Motive rolls: one (34) to see how Dadrag reacts to his words, and another (29) to assess just how formidable the bodyguard is (as per the "assess opponent" application in Complete Adventurer; if you don't have that book, just tell me his character level to save time).

[OOC2: Alhoon, I think it's time for Draxton to come back in now. SoH check gives a DC of 26 for Serd to spot the bottle hidden in Crow's coat, all modifiers included. Oh, and "Curwin's" still got his feet propped up on Serd's chair, so your PC is welcome to yell at mine, when he comes back and sees this latest display of rudeness. ]

[alhoon]

Approaching, Draxton can see Curwin talking with Dadrag. They seem to be in the same cat-and-mouse-but-who's-the-cat-? game Curwin tried to play with him. A good test for both of them.
Taking a note of the number, position and strengths of Curwin's magic items Draxton approaches the table. Takes the last seat next to Curwin, refusing to sit where his boots were proped. Also he can see the bottle was not there... probably the man-playing-to-be-obnoxious has taken it. An interesting fellow. All people in the fraternity are well versed in etiquette almost as well as in the secrets of this dark world. Curwin also seems to be quite successful and skilled with the games of words, the most dangerous game. So obviously he wants to seem annoying for some reason. Why?
How much more would he have missed if he hasn't his necklace? An interesting night. Perhaps he would find a way to make up more than the cost of a barrel of that expensive wine from this man. Even if not, Curwin seemed more ... entertaining than really dangerous. He thought on a way to make Curwin stay along with them for the ride. After all, that way they may dispose of him if needed or throw him to an enemy as they escape or even sell him to an undead (perhaps a female vampire) to make some allies. Yes... Perhaps they should visit some Kargat agents. Kargat was sworn against Death, they would probably turn a blind eye to some ... financial dealings Draxton would do in Darkon and after all if Kargat didn't know enough about necromancy, none would.



OOC> The necklace just gives him a bonus to sense motive, bluff and diplomacy. Already calculated in those rolls above. Still Draxton values the item much.
OOC2> Ravenloft Knowledge 27 I'll ask if Draxton knows about Kazandra being in the Kargat or another influential female Kargat vampire.

[VAN]

OOC> Dadrag misses this sense motive check, I rolled only 17. Dadarg is not very good at that. So he cannot understand how well Crow has sized him and if he knows anything specific about him. But since Dadrag is intelligent (15) he can understand that it’s better if he changes subject.

Sense motive 1: I rolled bluff 28. The glimpse of pain was because Dadrag remembered his daughter Melinda killed from the wererats that wanted revenge. Since this secret lies in Richmulot, not in Darkon, he believes that is difficult for the bard to know it. However Dadrag is preoccupied because Crow seems to know something about him, he suspects that the bard knows that he was in the thief’s guild of Martira Bay, but he doesn’t know if this suspicious is correct or wrong or if Crow knows more about him. This situation makes him feel uneasy.

Sense motive 2: I rolled bluff 30. I don’t have the book. But for you, Dadrag is 7rogue/3 ranger.


IC>Dadrag cannot help his laugh when Crow answered exactly as he previously did. The mercenary expected that the bard wouldn’t answer at his question, but not to respond like this. He liked the men with humor. Nevertheless, at the bard’s comment about leaving faces and past behind the ex-assassin narrows his eyes and his face becomes darker. A glimpse of pain and slight preoccupation gets his eyes for an instant. He has tried for almost 3 years to run away from his past and he has no intention to return. But almost immediately Dadrag regains his usual expressionless face, it was difficult for this man to know what exactly had happened to him. But still he understands that he should be cautious with the bard. At the same time the ex-assassin tries to understand how many things the man might have known about him or his past, but this time he cannot decode the bard’s body language.

When Crow gets the bottle of palinca Dadrag doesn’t make any comment. When Draxton arrives he says:

“So, what are we going to do tomorrow? We are going to leave?”

[Rotipher of the FoS]

[OOC: Sense Motive 26 to observe whether Draxton seems distracted. Crow is pretty sure the merchant wasn't just taking a leak -- he'd only just mentioned divinations himself, after all! -- and is hoping to take full advantage of Serd's state of distraction, if he's still concentrating to keep a spell going. A second check (33) to notice if Serd is staring at any part of his body (like his borrowed FoS ring), as this will help narrow down whether the bard's right about which spell Draxton left the room to go cast.]

"Curwin" smirks at the sight of the merchant forfeiting his original seat, as if gloating at having successfully pushed the conceited Richemulouise, and his accent turns coarse again as he sardonically parrots Dadrag's words:

"Yes, Master Serd, what are we going to do tomorrow? 'Are we going to leave' ... as in, leave off this farce of politeness you keep insisting on ... that is, when it's not your own leaky bladder under discussion? Are we going to cease prattling bilge neither of us takes for truth, and do business like real men ... and like realists?"

The maritime-clad spy glares at the returned merchant, and contempt rises in his voice, as he reverses which ankle crosses over the other on Draxton's former chair, utterly unabashed at having appropriated the man's seat.

"You don't care for my manners, that's your problem. Know what? I don't like pompous, big-city blowhards stumbling their way through one of my ports-of-call, proposing to 'employ' me as if they're granting me a damned favor by doing so, either!" The bard thumped a fist on the tabletop, suddenly letting his face and body-language proclaim a territorial anger that was, in reality, spurred by his outrage at the merchant's reckless disregard for the kitchen-staff's welfare.

"You think I need your trade, to keep my enterprises afloat? You think these backwater yokels are my only clientele of interest?! If you're fool enough to accept matters that much at face value, mainlander, then I've no patience to waste, squandering my time or contacts on a bungler who takes cliches and appearances for truth!"

Crow brazenly pulls the palinca from his coat-pocket -- giving the Richemulouise another contemptuous glare, as he does so, as if daring the man to show himself thin-skinned enough to be riled by this latest snub -- and gulps a shot directly from the bottle, then gestures with it towards the dining-hall entrance as he wipes his mouth on his sleeve.

"But have I walked out that door, yet? No, I haven't ... because I don't let others' pig-headed arrogance divert me from an opportunity for profit! If you can't do the same, to show you're worth my doing business with -- as subcontractor, not 'employee'; I'm my own man, Mister Serd, and you'd best remember that -- there's no way you'd last a month in this town. If you did choose to throw your stuck-up Westerners' money around here, these point-eared paragons of rectitude wouldn't cheat you or rob you. They'd simply shut you out of any hope of trading so much as a chip's-worth of goods here, like you were some wretched Akiri baboon dressed up in merchants' clothing ... an opinion which, if this conversation's a fit example of your tactfulness, I'd damned bloody well be inclined to agree with!"

The bard slams the bottle down on the table, in emphasis of his bellowed, final insult ... and then narrows his eyes sardonically at Draxton Serd, allowing the man a few seconds to grasp that "Curwin"'s offensive behavior has, in fact, been a deliberate test of the merchant's ability to tolerate precisely such rudeness! Rudeness, which any foreign human in Nevuchar Springs must surely have to cope with, from the resident elven majority, at every turn.

Had to get your attention somehow, Master Serpent, and having "Curwin" test your capacity for restraint under pressure is quicker than testing your other virtues ... or lack thereof! Not to mention, between my insults and that divination I gather you just scoped me with -- you're an FoS with the stench of power-greed upon you, so it's not hard to guess which one you'd favor -- there's no way you'd turn down this next 'opportunity', to place the obnoxious "Remington Curwin" at your mercy....

The bard continues gazing at Serd for several seconds more, as if daring the other man to speak a single word or display any outward sign of offense. Then, he nods once, as if in provisional satisfaction, and lets his accent ascend the economic scale once more, to speak again in civil tones:

"Not bad, not bad. Not exceptional, either, but you'll do. Well done, Master Serd; seems you might gut it out here, after all! Not a flinch, not a ruffled feather, for the first couple of years at least, and you may just last long enough that the elves'd actually consider giving you the time of day, along with their daily snubs."

Crow snickered, reclaimed his brandy snifter, and took a civilized sip, this time with all the graciousness and precision that Gertrude Kingsley might expect from a dinner-companion.

"So, that's one obstacle dealt with, at least. Maybe you are worth my time after all, sir. You've proven you've thicker hide than I'd expected.

"Of course, what's behind that hide's another story.

"Tell me, sir", the bard asks, at last affording the merchant his turn to speak. "Now that I know you're a man who can stand up to the elves' snubs ... what proof can you offer me, that you're the same man whose name you claim? I heard Serd's name at that surprise party, true, but I barely caught a glimpse of him all evening -- again, he disappeared early on -- so who's to say you really are who you say you are...? I've seen or heard no evidence whatsoever from you, this day, to guarantee you're not working with one of those ... rival guilds, looking to horn in on my investments! So, if you've still stomach enough to continue negotiating, perhaps you can answer a question or two of mine, before we get down to specifics that might bring me... embarassment, spoken in the wrong ears."

The bard at last takes his boots off Draxton's former chair, sits up, and tilts his head enquiringly at the Richemulouise, all attention.


[OOC: Another long one, but I figured that I owed alhoon's character a reason why Crow's been trying to irritate him! Not such a good Bluff roll this time around (26, which is downright abyssmal for the bard ), but then, this whole string of provocational remarks wasn't meant to fool anyone for long: "Curwin" was just yanking Serd's chain to see if he'd flinch when insulted and browbeaten, and reveals that fact at the end. So let's say that if Serd's SM check beats Crow's Bluff here, he grows suspicious a bit early, and anticipates what "Curwin" is trying to do, okay?

[Oh, and I hope Dadrag gets some laughs out of this one, VAN! ]

[alhoon]

OOC Sense motive 32 However, Draxton was sure when he returned to the table that he will have to accept and endure on such test. Also, spotting someone looking at your items is a spot check, not sense motive. Draxton try to not show that he is looking at items, looking them with the corner of his eyes so to speak... Say spot DC 20 with a +4 circumstance bonus since Curwin expects the Serd does just that?
As for the detect magic, Draxton seemed to walk slowly across the room to the table as if distracted by something, not paying attention to the events around him. Also at first at the table he seemed quite distracted.

Draxton waits patiently for Curwin to finish his tirade taking another moment to look at Curwin's auras. Probably testing the waters, testing Serd's composure. Yes, Draxton has been right about Curwin, he was experienced in such dealings.
When the man finally becomes calm, Draxton even grants him a little smile and a slight bow of his head as in "good work". As usual Dadrag seemed composed enough through all of this.
Calmy, waiting to see if Curwin has finished he replied
"For a man with such keen ears, you seem quite eager to do business with me Curwin. A good thing. Ask me and I'll answer your questions if I can. Let's have this discussion calmy for the sake of both of our profit and of that of these kind elves that live here and will still do so for long after Dadrag and I leave tomorrow."

OOC: just for clarification, although Serd is quite blant. He means that Curwin was spying on them and that if he is happy with Curwn he will make profitable offers, if his requests are turned down he will do some harm to the elves here in order to make buisiness difficult for Curwin, since he won't be around after tomorrow.
Important: (make SM check if needed) Draxton doesn't think that Curwin has the interests of elves in mind. He threatens to damage the community only because that will attract attention and attention is bad for Curwin's illegal business. Serd seems confident that whatever "happens" here will not be tied to him at all.

[Rotipher of the FoS]

[OOC: Missed the Spot check (not one of Crow's better skills ), so the bard's not sure which of the auras on his person the merchant is most interested in. So, he's still just guessing that Serd cast Detect Magic on him, and not something else. No question that he'd see Draxton's implied threat ... or that he's successfully quashed any suspicions Serd might've had, that "Curwin" really gives a damn what happens to the local elven bystanders (SM 33).]

The Richemulouise merchant's composure under verbal fire was perhaps a tad too wooden, but impressive, nonetheless. Crow raised a mental eyebrow at the man's nodding smile, then frowned internally at the blunt reply's implied threat to Nevuchar Springs' tranquility.

A bit touchy, are we, Master Merchant, to issue such indiscriminate warnings, even if you mask your own pique well enough? Possibly too well, at that: your words are clumsy, your delivery otherwise. Either you're playing the same game as I am -- hiding your guile behind a pose of rude intransigence -- or you're cheating. Been enhancing your wits with your spells, as well as your senses, to better keep your bodyguard in the dark? Unless it's the language-barrier tripping up your choice of words ... but a trader of your prominence certainly ought to be fully fluent in Darkonese....

Setting aside this train of thought for later consideration, with a dismissive throwing-away gesture -- a natural response for himself, that the bard incorporated into his smuggler-persona as a mutual habit -- the VRS spy set his drink aside, and leaned conspiratorially closer to Serd. He'd had enough of palinca for the time being; Crow'd always played 'crass' better with a few drinks in him, but now was no time to impede his skills, getting genuinely sozzled.

"Agreed. No more needling -- from either of us, sir -- until business has been properly dealt with, whatever its outcome."

The bard leaned closer still, wavering just a little as he did so. No harm in letting the man believe he'd already exceeded his limits on the brandy....

"First, let's see just how well you recollect the events of that little soiree. If I were to say that you, Master Serd, arrived before the arrival of the tallest gentleman in attendance, whom would I be speaking of ... and would I be telling the truth? Quickly, sir; time is fleeting, and only the shadows of night are truly immortal."

Crow's face tilted cunningly with his closing, cryptic words, its sly look framed by chestnut-dyed mariner's hairlocks.

[OOC: Bluff 38 to appear slightly impaired by the palinca, including a +4 plausability bonus because the bard really has imbibed enough to intoxicate the average person. (He's favored brandy for years and can tolerate more than most people.) The man Serd needs to name is Hartly -- 7 feet tall! -- and the comment about the "shadows of night" is one of the code-phrases Buchvold passed along to Crow, that the FoS loyalists have been using to identify each other since the Manoir's debacle. Make up your own 'coded' reply, alhoon! ]