Posted: Mon Apr 24, 2006 2:36 pm
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. ]
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. ]