The Game of Kings

"Doral, leave the bowman alone. His time will come. Your skills are needed to listen and gather what you can about the Prince and our quarry. That will let us know what is needed next---more words or madness. Maybe both."
 

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"Nonsense. Everyone's talents here are important," Doral says encouragingly. The tense atmosphere seems to subside, and Doral silently congratulates himself. That Dragen guy isn't so bad once you give him some respect.
 

The dwarves begin to file off the ship, but one of Kinndareck's aides, a dark-haired dwarf with a thin scar upon his cheek, departs from the procession and with slow strides approaches the kobold. "Kinndareck has told me that he will bring your concerns to the Prince tonight. My name is Bourstrart, and I will provide you and your... fellows with any news on the subject. I assume I may find you in one of the town's inns?" he asks.
 

Ringmereth said:
The dwarves begin to file off the ship, but one of Kinndareck's aides, a dark-haired dwarf with a thin scar upon his cheek, departs from the procession and with slow strides approaches the kobold. "Kinndareck has told me that he will bring your concerns to the Prince tonight. My name is Bourstrart, and I will provide you and your... fellows with any news on the subject. I assume I may find you in one of the town's inns?" he asks.
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The kobold nods. "Tell your associates we appreciate their assistance. Yes, we will be staying at one of the inns; unfortunately, we were unable to make arrangements in advance. A message to Master Vhir will find its way to me. Good day." With that, the kobold nods.

Rejoining the others. Making sure the dwarves are not watching or listening, we points out, "The lure has been baited. We wait to see if we get a catch. Now, for an inn." The kobold directs his gaze to the warforged. "Carver. An inn, preferably one better off by humanoid standards. Our guise must be maintained. If any of you wish to find alternative lodging or entertainment"---the kobold does look at anyone, but the implication is there---"please inform me so I am away of your location and can coordinate. Madness may still be coming."
 

What a pompous little ass. Dragen thought. I wonder how many rocks he has to swallow to keep himself from floating off the ground with hot air and high opinions of himself.

I imagine hiring an assassin for a kobold would be cheaper than hiring one for a real person.
 

Partash ignores the banter of Vhir and Dragen, though he quite obviously keeps an eye on the bowman. He still hasn't forgotten what Glasia told him and Dragen's words only confirm his suspicions.

If this man was aware of the grander scheme of things he might not be so simple-minded in his approach. He may be the Keeper's best friend, but death can just as well turn on him and claim his immortal soul for itself. There are far greater things at stake than his happiness. In my mind, he's obviously the tool and the Dragon Below has taken control of his mind and made him do its bidding. If I ever see him harm innocents I'll make him regret the day his mother gave birth to him...

Partash clears his mind before walking over to Vhir: "I'd like to say that I'll be staying with the rest of you. I'm sure we'll find adequate lodging."
 

Morika found the archer delightful... much in the way that landing face-first in a thornbush was delightful. His death-soaked monologues reminded her too much of the battle-weary soldiers she defended her villages from during the war. "You're war-crazy archer, but you knew that already. Go get drunk and break a few faces, you'll be in a better mood and I'll feel less like shoving you in the harbor. As for now, I want some meat to eat and a plan that doesn't involve me having to sit behind like a good little girl. It'll be doomed to failure anyway."
 

With the subject turning to accomodations for the night, the group surveys the town and sees, amidst myriad taverns and warehouses of varying age and condition, what appears to be a three-story manor house, built of brick and dark wooden planks. It lies north of the Thresher, a block removed from the bustle of the docks, and Carver immediately recognizes it as the Sail and Scepter, the finest of Port Verge's inns. The warforged also remembers another place to stay in the town, the Argotch Inn, owned by an old goblin sailor. Looking south along the seafront, he spots the sprawling place, a pair of old homes linked and expanded by haphazard new construction. Adjacent to it is the Shark Tank Tavern, a rowdy bar marked by the set of toothy jaws suspended over the entry.
 

The kobold indicates the large brick building with his fine walking stick. "I will secure quarters there; it is where the dwarves would expect me. Palinor, all, you may join me there as you wish, though any rowdier acitivity will mostly like have to be confined to the Shark Tank. Doral, when you try to gather information, but the Sail and Scepter and that 'tavern' on the other side of town would be good targets."

With that, the kobold makes his way to the Sail and Scepter to inquire about rooms.
 

Nodding in agreement, Doral heads towards the Argotch Inn. "Hmmm... I think this is the type of place where a man might ask around and find out where a certain prince might lock away his political enemies. The folk here will not be too rich, and not too rough, and will likely be sailors. Anyone want to come with?
 

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