The Game of Kings

MadMaxim said:
"I don't know, Carver. Like you, I'm usually only seeing people flavor their coffee with cream and sugar, but perhaps the dwarves have found some new interesting way of spicing up coffee..." Then he grabs some bread and water and starts eating while keeping an eye out for Dragen. Even though he promised Glasia not to do anything about her unpleasant encounter with him, he still feels rather protective about the young wizard.
"Maybe I should ask him. Dwarves are pretty open and tolerant right?" Carver asks.
 

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Bront said:
"Maybe I should ask him. Dwarves are pretty open and tolerant right?" Carver asks.
Partash whispers to Carver: "I wouldn't do it right now, Carver. As far as I know, the dwarves are extremely secretive. I think it comes down to them having the Mark of Warding and something like that."
 

Kinndareck raises an eyebrow, and leans to whisper something in dwarven in his compatriot's ear. A reply is whispered in his ear, and he matches the kobold's stare. "Ye tell me that Kolberkon has captured Baron Gaardasci?" He pauses, twisting the edge of his neat beard as he considers his words. "We were not informed that the... scuffling betwixt the Principalities had escalated. What does the Prince hope to gain from holding Gaardasci?"

[sblock=Doral]The beguiler continues to focus on Baranak's surface thoughts.

"Yes, sir, he is Baron of the Principality. His sons lead pirates against the Diresharks." he thinks, speaking the same words to Kinndareck. He should know. The Department pays him to keep... hmph.

When his Banking Guild counterpart speaks, he begins wondering. Why would---the Prince must want... stability if he persues the Banking Guild's favor. He must think holding Gaardasci will give---force a cease-fire, a treaty.[/sblock]
 

Doral takes this moment to speak. In bad common he says, "Sons angry. Sons crazy angry." He then allows his cheeks to turn red, as if embarrassed, and falls silent once more.

Meanwhile he continues to focus on the dwarf.
 

Vhir looks over his shoulder to his companion a moment, then back to the dwarves. "Excuse my assistant. War damaged, unfortunately, but he is a good porter and protection." And trying to tell me something, no doubt.

"Where was I? Oh, yes. While I have been hired by the Blacksurf Principality, I must in all honesty mention that it is not the Prince's primary choice in action, but one taken under the strong advice of their advisors. While I have not had the pleasure of meeting Baron Kolberkon, I believe he thought the capture of Baron Gaardasci would force his sons to capitulate. However, in reality it angered them and has given them an opprotunity to sieze all the Blacksurf reins in their eyes. Thus, I believe Baron Kolberkon's plan may backfire. If my negotiations succeed, then Gaardasci should be able to ensure his son's actions---he would not want to be re-incarcerated after all; but, if he remains imprisioned, then his sons actually gain what they want---full license to predate this area."


"In summary, even though they are reluctant, the Blacksurf Prince's have been persuade to allow me this one chance to get their father back. Thus, as I said, it is in your and my best interest to get gain Gaardasci's release."

OOC: Bluff checks as appropriate (as good part of this is fabrication) as Vhir continues his overall diplomacy.
 

[sblock=OOC: Titles]A handy reference to prevent confusion:

Prince Kolberkon is the ruler of the Direshark Principality.
Baron Gaardasci is the retired, captured symbolic ruler of the Blacksurf Principality.
Hesr'lan and Jedernis are Gaardasci's titleless sons and actual rulers of the Blacksurf Principality.

As a bit of useful out-of-character knowledge, titles in the Principalities vary greatly and are pretty arbitrary. Rulers of the various Principalities go by Captain, Admiral, Baron, and Prince, among others.
[/sblock]

Kinndareck nods, digesting the proposal along with his bread and coffee. "A pirate war is poor buisness for the House and Guild," he agrees. "I will bring your concerns to the table when I meet with Prince Kolberkon."

[sblock=Doral]The banker seemed unfazed by the kobold's lies, but Baranak exhibits suspicion. Addled by the War? I wager--I've seen him before. Yesterday. He looked solid and sharp as any. Dwarf raises his eyes to the half-elf, his gaze steady, but stays silent.[/sblock]
 
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The kobold appraises the dwarves carefully before responding.

OOC: Sense Motive (hunch) on the bunch to get an idea of their intent---to see the success of the "negotiation" (I.e., if they will really try to talk it up and if Vhir hit is marks).
 

Doral keeps a straight face, but inwardly scowls at his mistake. Now he'll have to keep this act up continuously...or at least they are off the ship. He doesn't savor the thought of playing servant for a couple more days.
 

Vhir considered the dwarves sharply, but alas gathered nothing of their intents from their shrewd eyes and thickly muscled faces, or from their measured businesslike tones. Before the kobold had a chance to press further, Kinndareck made a small gesture to his associate, Baranak, and then spoke with authoritative gusto:

“Master Vhir, this information you have given us is interesting, and appreciated. Now, if you have done all your duty, I would like to return to my breakfast.”

He gave a short, courteous nod, and turned towards the doors that led back down to the galley, clearly hoping to return to his meal in peace. Baranak lingered for a second more, then followed his superior below deck.

[sblock="Doral"]In his moment’s pause before leaving, the dwarf threw one last glance at Doral. Well… I will keep watching… maybe these hired negotiators have another side to them. …Aye, perhaps working with the Guild has finally gotten to me.[/sblock]

The two dwarves strode casually into the galley, and once again took up their seats with their companions. Some of the crewmembers were starting to return to their work, but a young galley-hand was circling around refilling the pitchers with fresh coffee for those who were staying a while longer. When he came to the table where a good portion of the travelers sat, he smiled genially.

“On’ly ‘bout eight hours ‘til we arrive in Port Verge!” he said cheerily, a simple piece of small talk. “It’s ah nice town. Lots ah pretty things teh buy, an’ pretty lasses to buy ‘em for, so th’ saying goes.” And then he wandered off again, in his simply-minded way.

OOC to All: This plotline is about to be fast-forwarded eight hours, so if you want to do anything in that time, declare it now, folks.
 

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