Working for the Man

Off the beaten path of the main streets of Alexandria is a small pub. It's not famous or even terribly large really. It's a small location, but the prices are good, and the food is excellent - especially for the price. They even offer a few selections of ale which can only be found at this location. Including a "Blue Moon" ale which has become increasingly popular over the last few months.

Sitting at one of the tables is a gnomish man in commoner's clothing. He'd be in fact entirely unnoticeable as an individual in fact if not for his boisterous personality. Or more simply to say - he's being very loud. The gnome slams his pint down and complains to those nearest who are listening, or perhaps just to himself. "My boss is one _hell_ of a guy!" He laughs a little, and grimaces. "Works me like a dog! I mean it. I'm so _tired_ of being pushed around like I don't have ideas of my own!"

Dirk is always on the lookout for new watering holes. As much as he enjoys patronizing his usual haunts, finding this little hole-in-the-wall has been a nice surprise. And so he relaxes after a hard day's work in the market, quietly pulling at his pipe while sipping at a mug of beer. He glances over at the gnome, perking a shaggy white brow curiously. "Well," he says around a billow of pipe smoke, "why don't ye tell 'im tae get stuffed an' move on? This is Alexandria, slavery's illegal here, innit?" He rumbles a soft chuckle, taking ahold of his pipe so he can tip back a swallow of beer. "Mmh. Good brew, this."

Verna enters the small establishment with curiosity fed by unfamiliarity. Her cloakhood is doffed once out of the weather for improved field of vision and perhaps some assurance that the mourner is not present on any official business; such an impression would not be appreciated by the proprietor, afterall. She approaches the counter to make an inquiry, with the gnome's comments drawing her eye as she waits in turn. Dirk's response, and indeed familiar voice, shift her focus to the khazad, lips pursing somewhat. "Indeed it is, and all are better for it. Good day to you."

Cheap prices, small location, a convenient location for studying the moons - Crik, or the bundle of cloth in the corner, had indeed found a place to roost for the time being. Turning his head over towards the short people conferring, he briefly tilts his head - but soon returns into studying his laid out parchments with their geometric shapes. Occasionally the bundle of rags bob up and down, as a black feathered tail tips. A small vial of some sort was gently letting out wisps of smoke besides him.

If one were for some reason looking for Iskandar, a pub would be a good place to start. It's certainly the first place the adventurer himself likes to start when he's looking for someone. Or for that matter when he's not. And sure enough the door opens and he steps through, quickly orienting himself - and brightening at a few faces he recognizes - before he strides further inside to order an ale.

Following shortly after Verna, Jacob Ben-Hassid enters the small establishment. A shield hooked over a cloaked figure and a weapon hanging off of his side, a breastplate of a strange metal rests on his chest as shades of red, grey, and gold descend from his person as his robes, the colors slightly faded from wear and tear.

He lowers his hood and approaches to order an ale. He doesn't seem to recognize anyone for now, but it's clear he's somewhat...tired. Home from a journey?

Off to one side of the pub, Lucius sips his mug of Blue Moon and drums his fingers on the table in an irregular rhythm, minding his own business for the moment. On the other hand, it's impossible to miss or ignore the loud conversation. He slides closer and takes another sip, trying to appear casual and indifferent, but nevertheless following the discussion with keen interest.

"He'd kill me." The gnome says mournfully, and seriously enough that he seems to actually believe that his boss would off him if he tried to leave. "It's worse than slavery friend dwarf."

The gnome lifts his hand for another pint, and seems well lubricated at this point. His cheeks rosy and his eyes a touch glazed. "’Bout the only perk to this job has been this. Getting drunk is the BEST." He flashes Dirk a grin and then nods to Verna. "Wish I had more money, but the boss-man doesn't see fit to give me much."

Dirk can't help but boggle at that. "Beards o' me fathers. What kind o' job do ye -do-?" he asks. "That's just criminal, that is! Nobody should have tae live in fear o' their boss like that!" He harrumps, draining his mug and setting it down. "Why don't ye go to the city guard, then? Someone should be able tae help ye get free o' this sheepfucker." Spying Verna as she arrives, he lifts his hand to wave over at her. "Oy, Verna! Fancy meetin' you here! Have a drink, I'll buy."

Verna places her order for a Blue Moon ale, in a sealed bottle rather than mug or glass. She offers coin for it before turning back to Dirk. "Your offering is noted and welcomed, Dirk, but I do not seek to imbibe. The purchase is for use in cooking at a later time." Her focus returns to the gnome. "Dirk is quite correct. You should not be in fear of your employer and compensation should be commensurate with your toils and talents. If he does not do so, there are very likely many other employers who would."

Crik turns his head also towards the discussion, now that potential murder was involved. Slowly, he corks the vial besides him and pulls the rolls of paper into his cloak, glancing slowly around him - especially towards Verna. Maybe it was just not casual interest towards murder either, that was making him wary. "... terminate the contract?" He suggests from afar with his low, reverberating voice.

Iskandar acquires his own drink (in an oversized flagon) and then wanders over to offer his own opinion. "But this is Alexandria," he muses. "Everyone works for someone, or something." He pauses and then allows, "Even adventurers."

"Very true."

Jacob remarks seemingly to Iskander, turning towards the group to speak with them more openly. "Yet we can only hope that whom ever we serve provides the purpose that dreams are made of." He smiles softly. "And the satisfaction of helping us always nice." He turns his eyes towards the group in question. "Pardon my manners. I'm Jacob. I couldn't help but overhear."

He nods to Dirk though. "Agreed. If there is a crime such as that, the guards are present to help in those situations." He looks to the gnome more directly. "May I ask whom your boss is? Perhaps I may speak with them about the fear they instill."

"Mostly messenger. Though I've done a few odd jobs here and there." The gnome replies to Dirk. "And it's as I said, if I tried to leave, he'd probably kill me. Like that." He snaps his fingers and drinks another long pull from his tankard before sputtering into peels of laughter at Dirk's suggestion that he try and talk to the city guard. "The guard?!?" He howls and practically falls off his chair. Crik's suggestion stills the laughter though and he shakes his head.

"Woe to me ser, but I am stuck to this job and there is no getting out of it unless someone comes along and kills him off for me. That'd be nice." He stares at his mug and nods to Iskander's words like they're sage advice. Then eyes Jacob thoughtfully before screwing his face up into a very perplexed expression. "What's that name again? Oh right! I'm Jiddess!"

After a moment the gnome offers his hand to Jacob and anyone else that'll take it. "As for my boss... He goes by the name Mortin. Couldn't tell you what he's really named even if I knew." He snorts again. "Might be you'd have more luck than the guard getting him to let me go, but the truth is you'd probably end up dead too. Hate to see a guy that offers a stranger aid get torn apart." He nods.

Dirk looks over as he spies Lucius, offering the younger man a wave. "Oy, greenbeard. How be?" He looks around to all the others gathering and puffs up his burly chest with dwarven pride. "Dirk Stormgrip. Great tae meet ye all." He leans over and looks towards the bar. "Oy, barkeep! Let's have a round fer the house! Put it on my bill, yeah?" He turns his attention back to Jiddess. His shaggy white brows arch like astonished caterpillars. "Wait, -what-? Kill 'im? Great Gilead's Ghost, laddie, that dinnae sound like a good idea, does it? I mean..." He fidgets in his seat, looking over to Verna. Verna's a smart cookie. -She'll- know how to explain it, right? Right...?

GAME: Crik rolls sense motive: (6)+2: 8
GAME: Dirk rolls Sense Motive: (17)+3: 20

Verna had received the gnome's woes at his employer's acts as turn of phrase, rather than as a literal. Such is not so as the mention of death continues. Her frown deepens as she approaches the other vertically-challenged. "I am Sage Mourner Verna," she offers in introduction to the gnome. "If this Mortin threatens such that you fear for your life, or has committed violence to your knowledge, you should most certainly speak to the Watch. You can and will be granted protection if you do so." This seems beyond a matter of disgruntled employee or cruelly frugal employer.

GAME: Verna rolls sense motive: (16)+15: 31

Crik tilts his head up. Glancing down at his hands, at Dirk, at the poor gnome, then back at his hands. Oh, there was a neatly folded piece of paper there. Taking his empty mug, he walks over the bar with excessive amount of cloak fluttering - and he slips in the piece of paper to the gnome. '50 plat', the paper read in crawling letters. "Another 'Moon'. Is there a 'Red Moon'?" He tilts his head towards the side.

GAME: Lucius rolls Sense Motive: (11)+6: 17
GAME: Iskandar rolls sense motive: (17)+15: 32
GAME: Jacob rolls Sense Motive: (16)+8: 24

Iskandar watches Jiddess curiously. His expression turns grim at the suggestion of killing his employer. But then he seems to recall something. "What if we went to reason with him?" Iskandsr suggests. "Convince him to change his ways." There. That sounds more like something an adventurer might be expected to do. "You just need to tell us more about him," Iskandar assures Jiddess. And then drinks deeply from his flagon. But he never takes his eyes from the gnome.

Jacob's hand extends, taking Jiddess's a good shake. "Nice to meet you, Jiddess." But there's something..../off/ about Jiddess. He's not drunk - or at least, not *that* drunk - and he seems to overextend himself constantly. Jiddess speaks true about his terrible employer, but Jacob's mind is riddled with the possibilities. His eyes shift faintly to Iskander.

"Mortin? Hmm...very well, perhaps we'll need to converse with him for better conditions for you."

"Lucius Noctua, though you can just call me Luke." As he shakes the gnome's hand, Luke blinks and responds with a bemused smile. He turns away and waves back at Dirk. "Good to see you again, Dirk! It's going well enough I suppose. I got to run a couple jobs for the Guild, and I think I'm starting to get the hang of it, though it seems like for every single thing I learn, two more questions immediately pop into my head. I'd still call myself a greenbeard, for what it's worth." His smile widens.

The gnome slides his beer - now empty across the bar and gratefully smiles at Dirk. "Thanks friend!" He offers, accepting his new one - though he has to try twice to reach it - with a broad grin. He drinks a little and plops himself back onto his seat in time to receive Crik's message. He stares at it a moment and then a slow grin spreads across his features. He quickly pulls out a piece of charcoal and writes a hasty 'yes' on the paper before sliding it into his pocket. He'll give it to Crik later... when so many people aren't looking.

Meanwhile however, the gnome replies to Iskandar. "You could try and reason with him if you want, but I don't hold out much hope for it." This seems partially in reply to Jacob as well. "He's not from around here." This seems to set Jiddess off once again, and he starts laughing until little tears appear at the corners of his eyes.

Verna is far from what many would consider a 'people person.' Her spouse, her siblings-in-law are all far more personable. She does, however, pay attention to detail... and the more she observes of the gnome, the more some details do not fully coincide with one another if all is as it may appear. "There are many who would lend aid, Jiddess, to see justice for all and judgment for those in need... if you reveal truth."

It is the last she now suspects is not presently the case. She could well be mistaken, but there is no expected harm if she is. Conversely, with all that currently occurs, a chance not taken could readily prove far worse. Thus she seeks verification, one hand lifts in practiced gesture and a phrase in Mynsandraal is uttered before one gloved finger points to the gnome.

GAME: Verna casts Dispel Magic. Caster Level: 19 DC: 20
GAME: Verna rolls 1d20+20: (9)+20: 29

"That... that many coins?" Crik takes in a deep breath, twirling two coins between his fingers. Then three. Then two. Finally he gives in and lets go of the three for his choice of drink - another Blue Moon. "The living costs keep growing..." He quietly converses with himself - but anyone could tell he was looking over his shoulder at the others conversing.

Iskandar lowes his drink and grins broadly at Jiddess. "You haven't heard me 'reason.'" His smile fades. "But you say he's not from here? Where then?" His gaze shifts to Verna. He can't tell one spell from another, and he's only halfway certain what she's doing is a spell. But he turns back towards Jiddess so that he doesn't miss anything either way.

Dirk peers a bit more closely at Jiddess as the gnome tries and fails to grab his beer on his first go. "Maybe ye might want tae slow down a wee bit there, laddie?" he says. But there's a note of suspicion in his tone. Something has the old snowbeard's neck-hairs springing up, and he's learned to trust his instincts. But he remains friendly and genial as he looks over to Luke. "Well, good on you, boyo. Glad tae hear yer havin' a good time with it!" He shifts his gaze back to Jidess, peering at the gnome over the rim of his beer mug as he tips back a swallow. When Verna begins casting her spell, a subtle tension fills his heavyset frame. His hand twitches towards his thunderbelcher leaned up against the table nearby. Just in case.

There's not a single drop of magic in Luke's blood that he's aware of, but he's witnessed enough magic to recognize that Verna is casting some kind of spell at the gnome. The cavalier tenses, his green eyes flickering between them, ready to react at any hint of further escalation. His grin lingers, however, a sign that the adventurer's reaction is more out of an abundance of caution than of true concern. "Indeed, sir, it seems the story you tell is not, as yet, wholly complete," he mutters, prompting Jiddess to continue.

Verna's spell seems to have no effect on the gnome aside from an arched eyebrow from him and the general sense that he is confused by her. "What was that miss? I'm afraid I don't speak that." But then Iskandar's question is distracting him. "Where's he from?" He seems to think for a moment then giggles, quaffs the giggle and replies. "I guess you could say he's from Charn originally. He's been around Alexandria for a while now, but makes trips back and forth between the two frequently."

GAME: Verna rolls sense motive: (5)+15: 20
GAME: Lucius rolls Sense Motive: (1)+6: 7 (EPIC FAIL)
GAME: Iskandar rolls sense motive: (11)+15: 26
GAME: Crik rolls sense motive: (20)+2: 22
GAME: Dirk rolls sense motive: (15)+3: 18
GAME: Jacob rolls Sense Motive: (19)+8: 27

Dirk squints at Jidess through a billow of pipe smoke. "Laddie, there's summat yer nae tellin' us," he grunts flatly. "We cannae do much tae help ye if yer holdin' anything back." He leans forward a bit. "Many of us are well-seasoned adventurers. We can help ye wi' yer troubles. But not if ye keep leadin' us a merry chase. so let's have it, then. What's -really- goin' on here?"

Well, then. No harm, no foul... it appears? Verna arches a brow of her own at the results (or lack thereof), hand lowering. "My apologies," she offers. His words, now, concern her perhaps more than the previously perceived disjointed actions. Not to mention the giggling. If he is not so inebriated, has he gone mad in some manner? "Indeed. Few pleasant persons emerge from Charn, and fewer, still, choose to make repeated returns. Where is this Milton or his place of business? What is his business? What is it about him that causes such fear of retribution? Are there other employees in similar distress?"

A tilt of head is made to Dirk. "As stated, neither we, nor others, can aid you if you are not truthful and complete. If you seek aid, there is no cause for you to be dishonest. If you do not wish help, what is it you do wish? If this is some effort at a prank or jest, it is most inappropriate."

Iskandar shows a brief hint of irritation. Usually it isn't this hard to learn the particulars of an...adventure? Yes, he decides. More than most jobs he might find from the guild, this has the makings of an adventure. Iskandar's favorite kind. And so he reminds himself to be patient - and pleasant. "Charn is no friend of Alexandria. Or a friend to any land or citystate, for that matter, other than their own. I have made the trip to Charn and back to Alexandria. Once." His tone makes it sound like he also doesn't consider it a happy memory. Keeping his voice casual he adds, "You -are- holding something back, aren't you Jidness?"

Crik slowly tilts his head sideways. It seemed nearly habitual, as he let out a ponderous notion at that sentence. Eventually he remembers he was supposed to be drinking, and raises his cup. "Determination." The corvid says from the bar, taking a drink from his cup. "A piece of the dried sausage," Crik asks from the keep and pulls out his knife onto the table. Waiting for the keep, he slips a coin between his fingers and slowly begins to roll it in his palm, steadily clicking it against the table. Black, unflinching eyes on the gnome.

Luke peers intently at Jiddess, but eventually he shrugs and relaxes in his chair. Then he picks up his mug of ale again, evidently content to let the more experienced adventurers take the lead in the interrogation.

The gnome shifts uncomfortably at Dirk's comment and Verna's words only make his discomfort grow until he quells it with a great bout of alcohol. Iskander reminds him though that they're all waiting and he puts his head in his hands. "He's... a devil." He looks up from his hands. "I'm not saying he's dangerous, or terrifying _like_ a devil. I mean he really is one. I've seen him tear a man's head right off for getting him the wrong wine. Literally. Off. He could do the same to me. Worse." Jiddess shudders and looks down at his ale as if it can't get him drunk enough, fast enough. "How do you tell a guardsman that your boss is a devil?"

Dirk boggles a bit at that, then smacks his palm to his face. "Beards o' me sweet tapdancin' fathers," he grumbles. "Just like -that-, ye ninny. 'Pardon me, officer, but I'd like tae report the presence of a -great soddin' devil- in the city!" He picks up his mug and tosses it back, gulping the contents thirstily. "Dana's great flowery teats. Another bloody devil tae kill. Och, I've had about a gutful o' the hell-fuckers. When d'ye think they'll finally get a gods-damned -clue-?"

Truth is a powerful drug.

Jacob watches in silence, taking in every word imagineable. Magic is used while more falsehoods are given. He stares at Jiddess, narrowing his eyes. "Truth." He demands, but talk of his employer being a /Devil/?! "What in the hells?" He frowns a bit, but eventually he clears his throat. "Then the devil must be slain or banished back to his own realm."

That ... would quite readily explain the gnome's fondness for drink, fear of employer, potential madness... Verna enacts a new regimen of manual dexterity as hand lifts and fingers... pinch at the bridge of her nose. A great many questions and/or comments come to mind, some of which Dirk mentions most eloquently. A breath is exhaled before she straightens her head and eyes the gnome to ask, "Where is it?" In her mind, it is now the most pertinent and important inquiry of them all.

Crik stops in mid motion, beak slightly falling open. That was not part of the plan. "... what do you actually do?" He finally asks, slowly cutting really thin slices of the sausage. Some of them he even eats! Anyone could easily see how floofed up his feathers were. "Yes, we should kill it." The corvid readily agrees with Jacob and Dirk.

"A devil?" Iskandar thinks.

"A devil?" Iskandar thinks. Was it devils or demons that one time. He shakes his head. One is as bad as the other, he supposes. But still it might be helpful to...Wait. "You call him 'boss' rather than 'master'. Does that mean you have made some agreement with him?" He remembers something said earlier, and flicks a glance at Crik. "A contract?"

Luke's eyes widen at the gnome's revelation. "Figures that he's from Charn," he muses. As others talk of killing the devil, he rises from his seat. "Are we all in agreement on this? I admit I've never even met a devil before, much less killed one, but I'd like to assist on this matter where my ability permits." His eyes glint with determination.

Jiddess sighs and downs the last of his ale, looking at the bottom mournfully. "Yea, I tell a guard, they don't believe me. Or if they do, they hunt my boss down and he kills them and _then_ me." He looks at Verna and shakes his head. "I've already said too much."

He goes to get off his chair and falls to the ground as if he'd expected that he could just stand up, but the seat is much higher off the ground than he expects. Groaning from the floor he slowly pushes himself up. "I've the worst luck. First cats, now this. Drinking's not _worth_ it." He clamors to his feet slowly.

Crik stiffs mid-position at Iskandar's comment, and then he holds up his hand. "Poor man has a bad contract, yes. Proper devilish one." He quickly moves to surmise. Looking at the ale, the sausage he paid for, he quickly slides his hand over the counter - and apparently everything else except the ale just disappeared off the table. "Yes. Cats are the worst." The egalrin commiserates - except his eyes were on Iskandar. Sweatdrop.

Iskandar purses his lips. Drinking not worth it? This poor gnome must be further gone then any had realized. "You've said too much? You've hardly said anything!" he says in protest. Iskandar shakes his head. "We can be discreet. Your name need not come into it. Just give us a hint where to look..."

Dirk pinches the bridge of his nose, solidarity with Verna. "Some of us have fought devils afore, lad," he says. "They dinnae scare me. I hunt 'em fer sport." He reaches out and pats his thunderbelcher, nodding to Iskandar. "Aye, he's got it exact. He'll never know ye told us. But we have tae get this sorted."

Cats. As if the revelation could not be made worse. Verna steps back from the gnome's table, though it is to ensure that she is in the path between him and the door rather than to excuse herself or allow him to do so. "Did that contract involve your current form, perchance?" she makes a mildly-informed hypothesis. "Did the fiend grant you the answer to some desire you wished from it, yet with twisted results?"

The question may be somewhat rhetorical as she continues. "You failed to mention the possibilities should you share nothing further to see it stopped. At best, your misery will continue, perhaps deepen. At worst, the devil will despair, maim, or murder others, and you will have aided and abetted it to do so. The Gray Harpist judges all for their actions, at one's appointed time. What actions would you be judged by?"

Lucius frowns again. "You've already told us your boss is a devil. You've already told us you saw this devil kill someone by, uh, decapitation." He pauses. "None of us are going to forget any of that. Do you think we're not taking this seriously? You might as well tell us everything else you know. That would make all of our lives easier, trust me."

The gnome looks at Verna with a sort of growing horror, paused in his venture toward... well it's uncertain where he had intended to go. "Ah... That is..." He looks at the others and seems to realize that he's significantly outnumbered by people who want answers. Jiddess gulps and wrings his hands, looking more sober now than he had a few minutes ago. "L-look. I just want to keep my head attached to my body. I should go. Yes. All of you have a good evening...!" He makes to bolt for the door.

Crik tilts his head at Verna and the gnome, curiosity piqued. Taking a step forward, he flutters besides the rest of the group. "How did you know?" He asks from Verna. "That he was not what he was."

GAME: Iskandar rolls melee: (17)+17: 34

Iskandar's hand lashes out with snakelike quickness, grabbing the gnome by the collar. But his true skill is the revealed in the way that he lifts his flagon up and to the side while keeping it level so as not to spill any of its contents. "Wait! Ah...that is..." he tries to tug Jidness back to where he was sitting earlier. "You can't just leave it like that. Just a few more questions!"

"And we will keep it attached so long as it is within our ability to do so." Jacob remarks to Jiddess. Standing up straighter as the 'gnome' attempts a retreat. "But for your safety, it would be wise to tell us everything you know."

"We are your friends here. You can trust us." He nods at Iskander. "Another drink in exchange for your thoughts?"

GAME: Jacob rolls Diplomacy: (12)+9: 21
GAME: Dirk rolls Intimidate: (13)+9: 22

"His movements were not wholly aligned with his form," Verna explains to Crik, "as if he were unaccustomed to his limbs. His stumble from the stool, as example. I suspected it was illusion or temporary polymorphism." She turns to the now-snatched gnome. "It may be the latter, but of a more permanent variety."

She considers Jiddess a moment. "I do not fault you for wishing to keep your head. Unfortunately, I can attest that decapitation by a fiend is, indeed, most unpleasant. This is beyond just yourself and those present, however. There is every reason to believe that he is far from the only fiend involved. I ask that you share what you know that would aid in his removal."

GAME: Iskandar rolls diplomacy: (6)+10: 16
GAME: Verna rolls diplomacy: (16)+14: 30

Luke steps back involuntarily as the giantborn springs into action. As events unfold, he crosses his arms and gazes kindly at the gnome. "You're scared, so you might not be thinking clearly," he observes. "I agree with Jacob. Let's settle down and get you another drink. Take as much time as you need. None of us are going anywhere." The last sentence is spoken as a mere fact, without a hint of any threat or coercion.

GAME: Crik rolls diplomacy: (10)+2: 12
GAME: Lucius rolls Diplomacy: (18)+7: 25

Crik opens up his beak in a quiet 'ah'. He then also makes sure to ruffle up his feather some and take a careful step back. "That is very observant." Sidling back to his barseat, he instead turns his head towards Jiddess, staring at him from around his mug of beer.

The gnome squeaks as he's grabbed and urged back toward his chair. He is staring at Verna like she has two heads. "Another drink?" He questions and takes a step toward his chair. "I... I guess. Look. All I know is that Mortin isn't his real name. Obviously. That's not even the real name of the body he's wearing to walk around unnoticed." He looks at his hands. "He moves around a lot, but he has an office near the docks that he's been using for his secure transactions. That's all I know. Can I go now? Please?"

Iskandar releases his grip and steps back. "An office, by the docks," he muses. Then he repeats, "The docks! Hah! We'll get to the bottom of this in no time!" This is said more to his fellow adventurers than the poor gnome. "Ah, I think I've heard enough. Yes, another drink!" He looks around for a waiter.

Dirk scowls dourly as he shoves his chair back the table and stands. He crosses his burly arms across his chest, glowering at the gnome. He doesn't say a word. He simply -looks- big and impressive, tapping his foot as he sends up short, angry little puffs from his pipe. He'll let the others with more silvered tongues than his do the talking. The old dwarf just glares, as only dwarves can. Shaggy brows furrowed and beard all a-bristle.

"Thank you, Jiddess." Lucius smiles. "One more thing, please. If this isn't your true form, would you tell us what 'Mortin' has done to you? That's my final question."

Verna nods, satisfied with the information provided. "Thank you," she offers afterwards. The mention of further drink now reminds her of her purchased-yet-unclaimed bottle. She turns and is ready to step to the counter to retrieve it, also now reconsidering acquiring an actual drink, when Lucious makes his inquiry. She pauses, also curious as to the response.

Of all questions, it's clear that Lucius' was the one that Jiddess wanted to answer the least. "Does it matter?" He asks hopefully, trying to edge away again. "You have the information you want, and what I was doesn't really matter does it? This is me now." He motions to himself a little bit and baaaaacks toward the door slowly.

Iskandar holds up his hand...but it's held straight up, as if he's taking an oath. Or perhaps more of a wave. Then he turns it into a half-shrug at the gnome. Finally he raises his drink before looking back at the other adventurers. "I have friends at the Port," he muses. "Well, perhaps acquaintances would be closer to the truth..."

Of all the questions asked, that one was only a curiosity in Verna's view. She resumes her movement to the counter to retrieve her bottle of Blue Moon. The tapped kegs are considered a moment or three before she exhales a sigh and decides against. After stowing the bottle, she notes to those with intent to deal with the matter, "I advise all caution in any endeavors. Should any seek further advice, or require additional assistance, I can be found at the Vardamen temple. If not there, Dirk can readily contact me." She dips her head to the khazad. She then moves for the exit herself, not interfering with the gnome in any way.

"I suspect some kind of transmutation spell." Jacob remarks about what had happened to Jiddess, but he makes no comment. "Docks." He repeats. "And I at the Temple of Serriel. I advise we handle this as a group."

Lucius shakes his head. "It's not necessary, but it would have been nice to know what happened, to get a better sense of what we might be up against. You don't have to answer if you don't want to. I'm no expert, but if it was magic, perhaps it could be undone? As always, the more you tell us the better we'll be able to help." He eyes the gnome and shrugs. "Your choice."

He waves good evening to Verna as she departs, and then nods to Jacob. "It might be a good idea to inform the Guild as well. I suspect much more is at play than what Jiddess has been able to tell us today."

Dirk reaches up to take ahold of his pipe. He lumbers forward, reaching out to rest a meaty paw on Jiddnes' shoulder. "Ye have my oath, lad, we'll get this devil o' yers sorted. Gilead an' Dana witness me," he says in a deep, grave tone. "I'm a dwarf. Ye know ye can trust my word, right? I've got no patience fer the hell-fuckers. So you just keep yeself safe. Let us handle the rest."

The gnome shrugs at Lucius. "Some things are worse than being a gnome." He mutters and heads out the door as quickly as he may. His steps a little longer than they ought to be for a man his size. His strangeness however, will be yet one more thing unexplained about him, because now he's gone. Off into the cold, bitter night and leaving you with a task to take up - or not.

-End