In an expensive hotel in Martira Bay

[VAN]

Dadrag doesn't reply, he knows the other man is looking him. With steady paces goes towards the bard knowing that from his slighly open cloak the man can probably see the rapier hanging at his right hip and maybe the dagger at his left. With a serious face and a fake smile the ex-assassin approaches and standing over the man, putting Draxton off the bard's view, addresses him:

"Hello friend, I haven't seen you here before, so I guess you are a newcomer. It's not very common seeing humans at this part of Darkon."

The fake smile fades and the look at the assassin's steel eyes become cold and threatening:

"Do you mind follow me to our table for a friendly talk?"

[Rotipher of the FoS]

Being caught in the act of observing one's target was a lapse, but not necessarily one meriting corporal (or capital) punishment. Letting one's target be certain it was a lapse -- as opposed to, by preferance, a test of said target's own alertness -- was by far a worse breach of one's spycraft. Even as he cursed in his thoughts, the bard crooked a corner of his lip in a conspiratorial smile, and winked to the bodyguard in the reflection of the cheese-slicer.

Guess I won't have to concoct a pretense for approaching you two, after all! First touch I cede to you, Master Mercenary; let's see how you follow through, now...

As the hireling tersely informed Serd of the situation, Crow set the slicer down very slowly -- the bard couldn't throw weapons worth a damn, but best not to provoke these men's paranoia -- and set his pen aside as well. Keeping both hands in clear view, he "casually" closed the ledger to hide his latest shorthand notes, then rested his hands palms-down on the tabletop.

(A bit boring, perhaps, that the bodyguard didn't return his wink and had reported his presence so promptly. Plainly, this man took his work far too seriously for Crow's taste. Still, at least the hireling's quip about beer implied a sense of humor ... albeit a morbid one, if the "courtesy's" intent was as blandly cliche as the spy expected.)

Humor-endowed or not, the hireling's approach was classic: the brief glimpses of steel at his waist, the practiced artificiality of his smile, the tension in his voice underlying the inevitable "polite" greeting. Frankly, if the man's techniques were any more hackneyed, he'd be cast in one of Buchvold's beloved operas ... but the bard had to admit, the pose's psychological impact was potent. Had Crow not intended to join the pair anyway, it might even have put him off his game.

As it was, the bard simply tilted his head, smiled wryly a second time, and replied:

"Well, when invited by someone who speaks of 'friendship' three times in thirty seconds, how could I possibly be so rude as to refuse...?"

He couldn't let them think he'd forfeited every advantage so easily, of course. Crow snagged a grape from the snack platter, and popped in into his mouth, as he rose to join Serd's table. Cheeky, but necessary, to show he wasn't that easily cowed ... and because grapes in January were a rare treat.

[alhoon]

OOC> It still January

IC> As Dadrag moved to the meddler's table, Draxton checked to see if anyone was looking at him. He took a small bottle containing some mind numbing poison dust and sprinkled some on his left hand under the table. Replacing the bottle in his belt, he pretended to yawn. "Covering" the yawn with his left hand (naturaly opening the palm) he let the dust fall the short distance into one of the beer mugs in front of him. Checking again with the corner of his eye, he pushed the mug a bit away and took a sip from the other one.

[VAN]

Few moments later Dadrag and his former friend get to the table. Watching every move of the bard, the ex-assassin motions to him to take a seat as saying:

"Here we are."

[alhoon]

With a counting, but not dramatic look Draxton stood up. "Good evening Sir. This man is Dadrag and I'm Draxton Serd, a merchant and a noble..." he stopped for a brief moment looking the man, judging him from his body language. "... in case you don't know already. Would you like to join my friend and me for a drink? After all, we seem to be quite interesting company". Smiling Draxton took a seat and invited the man to sit beside him. "I have already taken the liberty to buy you a beer sir. I was ... quite sure that you would join us; eventually." the last word was a bit intoned and Draxton's gaze became just a bit more dark and hard at that for a moment. After that moment, he went on in his friendly and unthreatening tone again "Would you offer us your name sir?"
Draxton paused there too in order to check if the man caught the subtle threat.

OOC> Sense motive for the things I asked above. Two rolls for the two occasions. One to see if Crow knew about them and one to see if Crow caught the threat. 25 and 16 are the results...

[Rotipher of the FoS]

After two weeks of recovery, the bard's limp had abated greatly; his gait, for this change of tables, required no cane for support. He doubted if the hireling would miss it -- not after the way he'd been "made" -- but Serd was another story: the spy strained his calf-muscles to disguise his ankle's instability. The Richemuloise wizard was not a target to whom he dared show weakness ... especially not with a hired swordsman glowering at his back.

Oh, well. The last time he'd confronted an FoS member in this very room, he'd played the Hawk's side, and prevailed via multiple-front onslaught against remarkable resistance on her part. This time he'd been handed the Hare's role, which called for disruptive tactics and distractions.

(Crow'd always been a rather better gamesman as Hare, than as Hawk....)

The bard settled into the chair on Serd's right, nearest the proffered mug, and forced his muscles to relax into a pose of unperturbed casualness, in defiance of the adrenaline-rush his work always roused in him.

"My word, this is friendly, indeed," the VRS spy sardonically quipped, glancing back and forth between the two men. "An invitation to chat, from complete strangers, when I'm so newly-arrived that the salt-spray's still crusted on my boots? How very generous!" Crow let sarcasm express his disdain for their farce of faux-politeness; unlike Kingsley, he didn't respect Serd enough to play that game. He narrowed his eyes pointedly at the wizard, as he stressed the phrase 'complete strangers'.

"And this? For me? Again, most generous, indeed ... but I'll pass, thank you kindly. Beer after cheese? Unthinkable! But so long as you're buying..."

And with that, the bard waved for the waiter's return ... and "graciously" pushed the beer he'd been offered toward the mercenary's hand, instead.

Let's see what each of you do now, clever boys ... and just how ruthless Dadrag believes you to be, merchant, by whether he drinks it or not.

[Rotipher of the FoS]

OOC> Whoops, looks like we were writing our posts at the same time, alhoon! They don't seem to contradict each other though, so we can probably let them stand as they are. The Sense Motive checks don't matter, as Crow's sarcasm intentionally implied he knows he's being threatened. He's also hinting that he knows Serd (via Bluff/innuendo) ... but he'd deliberately directed that information to Serd only, not to Dadrag, to indicate (very subtly; another test there ) that their association can't be discussed in front of the bodyguard.

[alhoon]

A small smile formed in the noble's face, that Serd makes no effort to hide. "So, complete stranger? You still haven't graced us with your name." An open chalenge then. The man was skilled and that showed.

[VAN]

Dadrag doesn't miss the effort of the man to cover his instability. The bard wants to appear in good health and relaxed but his sarcasm betrayed at the skilled bodyguard his real emotions.

But this isn't the most important thing that gets the ex-assassin's attention. When Dadrag sits beside the man and looks him better, manages to discern that he is disguised. Considering this information very important, Dadrag decides to keep it for himself for the moment.

[Rotipher of the FoS]

Not letting Serd's repeated query pressure him into an immediate reply, Crow accepted a copy of the drinks-list from the summoned waiter. He held up a finger in a "One-Moment-Please" gesture, as he scanned the list -- expensive, but elves' long lives allowed them time to accumulate truly awe-inspiring wine-cellars -- and selected a palinca brandy so potent, Serd might as well have saved himself the bother of "fixing" the bard's drink. Try to drug me, will you, merchant? Fine, then you can cover my tab for the priciest tipple on the menu!

As the bodyguard took a seat on Crow's right, the bard handed the list back to the waiter, mutely pointing to his selection. (He'd let Serd learn the full cost of his "friendly" chat when the bill came.) Pushing the tainted beer to sit next to the stein the bodyguard had reclaimed -- half-empty now, but he couldn't keep nursing that one forever; time would tell -- the spy at last turned back to answer Draxton Serd's question.

"Sorry, you were asking...? Oh, of course, my name! Curwin, I'm known by, Mr. Remington Curwin.

"And pardon me for saying so, Master Serd, but you look an awful lot like a man I saw -- just briefly, mind you; he vanished not long into it -- at a party a few months ago. Rather a surprise party, it turned out to be....

"I could, of course, be mistaken."

With that, the bard extended a hand to shake the wizard's, in greeting ... and pressed the embossed viper-circled-stone emblem of the FoS, turned palmwards to hide its sigil from the mercenary's eyes, against the elder man's skin. Likewise hidden from Dadrag's line-of-sight, he darted his eyes toward the hireling, then flashed a cautioning look at Serd, in the unspoken message: Not in front of the unenlightened, Brother.

[alhoon]

Fraternity. It seems Getrude Kingsley left someone here. Let's test the password then. Still in the middle of his most interesting Necromantic studies, Serd wasn't ellated much to see a Brother here. On the other hand, the man could possibly be from the traitors, from the Unholy Order of the Grave. He needed more information before he decided if the man was a danger or not (Fraternity or not).

Smiles briefly and nods, not wanting to alert Dadrag too much of his true discussion with the Curwin. "Seen me in that nice party? That was like an eternity ago".

[VAN]

Dadrag looks quizically the wizard. He already knew that Draxton is a merchant and a nobble, so he probably was going to such party, but the way Draxton answers sounds a bit strange.


OOC> I haven't even roll the spot check as Dadrag has never seen Draxton's ring.

[Rotipher of the FoS]

The incongruous stressing of "eternity" in the merchant's remark didn't change the bard's expression visibly, but it did make him raise a mental eyebrow. Dropping passwords so soon, and not one from the 'official' list of code-phrases Buchvold had provided? Either the Borcan's seeking to return my latest taunts in kind, slipping me outdated call-signs, or this crotchety old snake's running a game of his own, amongst the Fraternity's underlings! He can't be in league with Van Rijn -- a wannabee lich would have to be a bloody imbecile, to have his supporters refer to eternity in a recognition-cue! -- but that doesn't mean Serd's not up to something twitchy, himself. Dear me, how like a Richemulouise...

Letting the elder man's semi-veiled hint brush past him 'unnoticed', Crow shrugged his shoulders casually, leaning back in his seat. "I suppose it depends how wisely one fills one's hours," he thoughtfully observed: a code-phrase Buchvold had passed along. If his latest list was bogus, it'd be meaningless to the merchant, but if it was valid, he'd be verifying his own 'legitimate' status in the post-Manoir FoS. "And where one opts to spend them. I gather you've been well-occupied since that incident, sir, with matters of trade ... a rather delicate bit of commodity-acquisition you'd negotiated, not long ago. With a gentleman of dwarvish persuasion, wasn't it...?"

(Inwardly, Crow grinned like the cat who'd eaten the parrot, not just the canary. He didn't need to prove himself a part of whatever sordid scam Serd was plotting; if the Richemuloise had something to hide from his Brethren, that only widened the spy's own range of options. Provided, that is, he could give the man cause not to simply brush off his "fellow Brother's" overtures and depart....)

"If so, I'm glad I met up with you here, before you arranged for that acquisition's appraisal. This town may not, despite appearances, be the best place for that: far too many... importers like ourselves have been been visiting the same marketplace, of late."

Unlike Draxton, the bard didn't audibly stress "marketplace" to designate the word as a clue. But he "idly" twiddled his fingers -- again, in Serd's view, but blocked from the hireling's immediate line of sight by Crow's own torso -- in a manner that "coincidentally" mimicked the sword-and-shield holy gesture of the faithful of Ezra.


[OOC: Sense Motive roll to detect if Serd recognizes the (genuine) FoS password is 31; the one to guage his response to the bard's mentioning the dwarven tomb he'd raided (Buchvold showed Crow that letter) is 26. Passing the hint that Bastion Raines has hosted far too many Fraternity callers, in the last few months, to risk visiting him again isn't even worth rolling a Bluff check for -- it's a snap for the VRS spy -- unless VAN wants Dadrag to try to intercept the message.]

[alhoon]

OOC> Tried to bluff that he didn't understood the password and failed to trick Crow (24 on the roll). However he was trying to fool others (like Dadrag) that might be hearing, not Crow himself.

Serd smiles. So he wasn't sent by Getrude (or pretends he is not). A member of the Fraternity for sure though. He has the ring and he knows the words. He must be low rank since Draxton doesn't recognize him. So he wouldn't be so much a problem if his ... disappearence becomes necessary.
Still, the man has shared some information (that he knew about Draxton's adventure and perhaps even curse and about the anchorites) so it was only civil matters if Draxton repayed the man with some information.

Waving to the waitress, never taking his smug expression from Crow, he requested another beer for Dadrag, while the poisoned one remained untouched! The waitress looked a bit confused at the full beer mug sitting in front of the mercenary and then to Serd. Draxton turns to look at her and tells "We won't need this one" waving to the full mug. "It seems to taste a bit ... strange compared to the other. Still, we will pay for it in full, don't mind. Just fetch another one and take that away."
With hasty apologies and curtsies the girl took the beer and promised that the other one will be fine, special etc. Draxton wasn't listening to her; he was smiling again and looking to his fellow Curwin.
Sharing the information that the beer was poisoned so openly was at least worth enough as the secrets Curwin has traded and some more. After all, Draxton has informed the Fraternity in general about his dealings with the Dwarf mummy.

"You seem to know these places well Curwin. And you seem to know many things in general. Do you have any advice as to where we should head? I wouldn't like that aquisition to be traded for a low price since the marketplace is near to exhaustion here?"

The waitress returned with the beer and the wine. Draxton expression darkened for an instant as he recognized the fine (and expensive) wine. In less polite tones he added once the waitress left.
"And in exchange of this advice, I won't charge the tab on you and I'll pay your drink too." Draxton left hanging in the air that if Curwin's information wasn't rewarding enough, he would just pay for Dadrag's and his own drinks.

[VAN]

As a good bodyguard, Dadrag doesn't comment anything he has heard. He is sure that Draxton and Curwin are speaking about something, but since they don't bother enlighten him, he pretends to be indifferent of what they are talking about. When the beer arrived, he murmurs a thanks to Draxton and drinks in silence.


OOC> Bluff DC 29 to understand that Dadrag is really interested of what Crow and Draxton are talking about.