[OOC: Actually, I did anticipate #1, and Crow's concern regarding #2 was that Dadrag might think that 'Curwin' was attacking Serd, and sneak-attack him without even waiting for his boss's orders. But he's seen proof that Dadrag is shrewder than he lets on in his employer's presence, so he gambled on the ex-assassin's professionalism and restraint. ]alhoon wrote:OOC> You haven't understood Draxton yet. 1. Of course he wouldn't let the books drop. He is a wizard after all, and a member of a secret society hoarding knowledge 2. He wouldn't order an assassination at this time except if absolutely necessary. It is very inconvenient.
As Draxton called off his attack-dog -- not that the mercenary appeared to have overreacted in the first place; 'Dadrag' knew his craft, even if his employer's judgment was suspect -- the bard backed further into the room, then sidestepped to the end of the bed. At the merchant-mage's scolding words about being more careful with books, he snorted and let his own remaining armload spill unceremoniously onto the mattress: an oblique clue that 'Curwin's' magical talents might be those of sorcery, not wizardry, if he held texts in such low esteem. At Serd's whinge about having his "aristocratic" arms laden with documents, he snorted yet again: the name which Crow has assigned to this particular persona was Mordentish -- a nationality ubiquitous amongst the Core's freely-roving, expatriate seamen -- and that fog-shrouded realm's noblemen were far less snooty about the prospect of dirtying their hands at an honest day's work.
Still, he didn't speak again, as the Richmuloiuse merchant followed him on into the room, traded glances with his hireling, looked for a place to set his own burden of paperwork down. He just chortled softly at Draxton's likely frustration -- unless the man could read Grabenite or decrypt the bard's self-devised shorthand, he'd have learned nothing from snooping at the stacked papers he carried -- and waited for the bodyguard to finish shutting, then locking, the suite's door, exactly as his employer had instructed.
When the merchant had set his burden down, and looked up, the bard's left hand was open and extended ... and his right, though concealed in the pocket of his oilskin coat, plainly held something inside that pocket, now directed at Draxton: something of a tubular shape, like a wand.
Or a pistol.
"Never did have that pet bruiser of yours search me rightly, now did ye...?," the mariner remarks, his tone conversational, almost fond. "No hysterics, now, old man -- I've no mind to start trouble in my own port of call -- but I'll not sit back and be on the receiving end of some conniving, fork-tongued inlander's spells, either! Think I can't guess how a man like you fattens his profit-margin? A dash of charming here, a taste of beguilement there? Save that rot for the witless fools beached on Shadow's shoals, not for a Brother who's pulled the same stunt on half the harbormasters in the Core!
"Just be a smart old goat, and hand over that book you're so all-fired proud of, so's I can check if I've been wasting my damn time, after all. If it's as you say ... why, then we got ourselves a bargain, much as I offered below: I put you in touch with a man who'll tell you everything there is to know about its contents, in exchange for everything you know of those four cowardly wretches who jumped ship in the midst of the brawl at St. Ronges. And then we part ways peaceably, and I maybe do you a favor or three, in days to come, if you do likewise for me.
"Or, if you have been wasting my time, talking up a book that ain't worth squat ... or if you're fool enough to think your rickety old bones are faster than I am, or that your watchdog in the hallway could unlock that door again, quick enough to save your sorry hide...."
Curwin smiles, the gloating smirk of a scoundrel who's not at all afraid.
"....then I guess you'll find out just what it was, that you were too damnfool busy being pleased with yourself to have your boy Dadrag take off me."
The spy smiled inwardly, too. Sometimes, Crow begrudgingly admitted, part of him took a certain guilty pleasure in roles that weren't so ingenuously-charming....
[OOC: Intimidate check 18; not one of Crow's specialties, but the bard's Charisma (and gall ) does help. 'Curwin' is not trying to steal the book or harm Draxton, but given that the merchant's already attempted to drug him and has threatened him repeatedly, he's certainly entitled to warn Serd off from pulling any more tricks. The weapon hidden in his pocket won't be utilized except in self-defense -- including defense against spells, should he suspect that the wizard is starting to cast one -- provided Draxton does nothing drastic to provoke him.
[Of course, so far the bard doesn't suspect that Draxton has Still Spell on his feat list! So if Serd is careful, he may yet have a chance to turn the tables on the spy....
[The paperwork, FWIW, is mostly outdated shipboard documents the bard bought by the pound from a rag-and-refuse dealer in Armeikos. The few sheets in the pile that he wrote himself, taking notes, are in a shorthand he invented using the Decipher Script skill; those, he made sure to keep in his own half of the pile, just to be extra-safe. Oh, and that wasn't "the switch" I referred to earlier, BTW.]