Cosmic Hunters (IC)

[Metastachydium]

Not so fast. Delja barges in herself, only to suddenly stop and start rocking back and forth on her feet at the middle of the room. What's with this city and carpets? She'll never get used to how those things feel. Druce, check the place for scryers, will you?

Spoiler: OOC

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Meanwhile, the paranoid twit will stare and listen for anything suspicious (the death throes of the poor chair stuck under Ux Utanar don't count; they are par for the course):
Listen: (1d20+24)[35]
Spot: (1d20+26)[38]

[remetagross]

Ux Utanar stops himself and takes a slightly embarrassed look.
"Uh. Yeah, of course."

[Geeksthenewsexy]

Opening her mouth to protest, Myriad snaps it shut at Delja's threat. Dead Delja sounds like the worst bath toy ever. Well, not the worst, but like....high on the list of nopes, she thought as they made their way to the room.

Once in the room, she cracks her knuckles exaggeratedly and begins combing the room for any manner of hidden spaces, traps, or magical shenanigans.

Spoiler: OOC

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Auto Search For Traps: (1d20+37)[52] + Detect Magic

[chaincomplex]

Delja Utorak. The nixie strains her acute senses. The door, windows, and walls here are very thick, anyone with ordinary mortal hearing would perceive nothing save for a violent, metal-clad battle in the next room. But Delja does not possess ordinary mortal hearing. She can hear in the next room, heavily muffled, the sound of quill scratching on parchment, and murmurs in some oratory tone, though unfortunately she does not quite catch the content of it.

Her sharp eyes scan the suite. There is little out of place here—it is, as promised, cleanly kept. The windows look out to a quiet night plaza. In the distance are red-plated patrols bearing torches, moving at a leisurely pace. Otherwise there is little enough movement in the shadows between the iron lamps that line the cobble roads. This neighborhood speaks of order and wealth. If there were to be commotion, it would likely not be of the petty criminal sort.

That aside, there are actually a decent number of trinkets scattered about the place: colored feathers, glass orbs, half-carved statuettes, silverware, loose parchments of various sketches, antique lamps, and such. It would take some time to catalogue it all if Delja had any interest, though on an immediate glance it is clear these are all belongings left by the many prior inhabitants of this suite.

Myriad. For a moment the changeling wonders whether she found a trap in among the tomes on the shelves. Hidden deep behind thick volumes is a strange wooden device with the glint of brass clockwork in the seams of its openings, built like a toy box small and light enough to carry in one hand. It is immediate to Myriad that it is not attached to anything dangerous, nor are there any arcane runes to channel power outwards. It is some kind of intricate mechanical contraption, and with detect magic she can see that conjuration magic (of moderate power) is woven through it. In principle it is like a trap save that it is not obviously meant to injure, and that there is no activation condition in immediate sight.

The tomes she found it stuffed behind appear to be detailed treatises on various dungeon hazards, none of which give an immediate clue as to the toy box's purpose.

Besides the toy box, the only other things that detect as magical are faint auras of abjuration about the points of entry (doors, windows, and amusingly, the fireplace itself) and a faint aura of conjuration associated with a crest mantled above the fireplace. The crest depicts the form of a liveried servant in a bow.

[remetagross]

Ux Utanar refrains from yawning. This chair is very comfortable, he thinks.
"So, anything interesting that you've seen? I must say, I'm glad about the opportunity to take a proper rest, for once..."

Ux Utanar casts a longing glance at the bedroom.

[Metastachydium]

Nothing much. Delja lifts and lets drop a trinket with her left. Nothing much of interesat, at any rate. I'd love to take a look at whoever's next door; they sound like the priestly sort. Those can be a difficult lot. she wanders closer to Myriad to lean in from behind and look upwards into her face. The Changeling looks… Just the regular sort of distracted, not magically distracted. I don't think it's very urgent, nevertheless. she swiwels back to face the Knight once more. So. Given that if there were anything dangerous in the room, she a thumb gets pointed at Myriad would already be dismantling it, recklessly risking our lives in the process, if at all possible, I think we can see to work. The Snatchers. she goes on. We are still to locate them and this establishment is big. It's time we drew up a battle plan of some sort.

[remetagross]

Ux Utanar brings his head back from the depths of the chair's comfortable back to meet Delja's eyes.
"Ah, well. Tell you what, that Grimbug fellow to which I've talked to while waiting for you gals has been very informative. As it turns out, there's some sort of public debate going on about whether Sigil should ban slavery or not. House Sauvais is a noble family against slavery, while House Midai is all for it. It's not the first time this topic is subject to vote, but each time, the "pro slavery" side wins, and this time it was assumed to go the same by everyone.

Except that this time around, there happens to be a serial killer on the move, and several House Sauvais supporters have been fairly gruesomly gotten by them. Which means that public opinion is slowly shifting in support of House Sauvais because of this, and for once, a victory of the "anti slavery" side is possible.

But wait, there's more. Grimbug has also told me that the Sauvais folk have a daily meeting at antipeak in the Twelve Factols. And remembler what Factor Trevenant told us? The killer, or killers for hire, just so happen to have a daily meeting at antipeak with their patrons! What an incredible happenstance, right?

So my hypothesis is that these House Sauvais folks are getting their own supports killed so as to gain public sympathy. And it's working so far. Except that House Midai will have none of it and has hired this super legendary bloodhound called the Huntress to investigate the Catacombs...which is probably where the killers for hire hide."

Ux Utanar ends his long speech with a satisfactory look on his face.
"I might not be the sharpest sword in the armoury, but I like to think I still have my moment, eh?"

[Metastachydium]

Grimwho? The pushy Tiefling? Delja tilts her head to a side, abandoning all attempts to somehow get the Changeling's attention. A good job indeed, Ux. she concedes all the same. But if you gave away anything sensitive about our mission here, be ready for a shin kick. Anyhow, she taps the Knight's knee, lightly, with a balled up little fist. forget that Huntress for now. Did the Tiefling mention about where the mystery meeting room is, within the building? We might want to fly by and confirm what you learned.

[Geeksthenewsexy]

Showing her friends the crest above the mantle, she mutters "Unseen Servant, most likely." as she continues to study the 'toy box' she'd pulled from the shelf. "And...something else. Like a trap, but not dangerous. Spying device, maybe?" As she muses aloud, her fingers flick over the box as she scrutinizes each detail.

Spoiler

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Knowledge (Architecture & Engineering) (1d20+13)[18]
Spellcraft (1d20+14)[31]
Use Magic Device (1d20+30)[32]

Note: I'd color my text but the toolbar doesn't even show up for me anymore, so I have to format everything by hand, which. Title field, Body field, Emojis, Post Icons, Submit & Preview. That's all I get now. This is why I stopped joining games on GitPG and only use MW/Baldr now.

[remetagross]

Ux Utanar ponders about what he has said to the joyful tout.
"Well, I did let on that we were interested in the Ooze plane incident, and about the whole killing spree. I guess that's about what everyone already knows, anyway. And about that meeting room location...what was it that Factor Trevant had said already..."

It takes a few moments for him to get it back.
"Ah, yes, it was along the lines of "in a private room on the lower floors of the Twelve Factols". Yeah, that's as precise as we're gonna get, I suppose."

[Metastachydium]

Delja sighs and gives an excessively cautious, soft kick to Ux Utanar's shin. She really doesn't want to break a foot on those greaves, and he did nothing altogether dangerously wrong. Hopefully. So far. Alright. That'll have to do. We'll have to make a quick descent and socialize some, I'm afraid. Meaning close encounters with counters where drinks are served. Joy. Try not to loudly introduce yourself more often than needed. she warns the Dragonborn. And I'm gonna strangle you if that is a spying device, Myr. a shoulder is rolled and the Nixie looks at the door. Someone do remind me… What time is it right now?

[remetagross]

Ux Utanar chuckles.
"I'll behave. But only if you promise me you'll let down this brooding face of yours for five minutes and take a little nap before we go down there. Because tell you what, I actually have no clue about the time of day. I'm not even sure it means anything in Sigil. It feels like I haven't slept in years anyhow, and that's what I'm intending to do - one of us at a time, of course!" he interjects with a raised hand to ward off the incoming objection, "and you and Myriad should do just the same."

[chaincomplex]

Myriad. The clockwork Myriad can make out from the small gaps of the box does not strike her as being particularly sophisticated. This may well be a toy. Small metallic lines run through its wooden frame. The changeling is certain these are arcane conduits. It is not unheard of for toymakers to introduce clockwork complications that terminate with activating some magical circuit. Usually this casts some entertaining illusion before self-winding and becoming inert again. Such toys are typically very expensive, the kind of thing one passes down a family tree. It is certainly not a toy one forgets in an inn.

Myriad's study turns back to the box's aura rather than its material being, then it becomes clear. The box is under an active magical effect, and the "trap" simply triggers to renew the effect. At first she saw the aura for that of the box as a magic item, but this is in fact also the aura of an ongoing spell. A fairly subtle distinction that fortunately her experience in spellcraft saw through. And she recognizes the spell now: it is gemjump.

Delja Utorak. Experienced as she is, the nixie knows that she cannot always tell the rough time of day simply by looking out the window. This does not even work consistently in the deep north of Toril, much less on any of the bizarre given worlds of the planescape. That said, the seemingly functional standing clock in the room reads 11 on the slow hand—just the number, one among twelve arrayed not unlike any timepiece back in Faerûn—and outside the window it is "night", or whatever passes for it in Sigil. It should be no more than an hour away from antipeak. In fact, the faster hand is just short of 6.

[remetagross]

The dragonborn raises an eyebrow.

"So we have, what, 25 minutes to find their place? Seems good to me. What are you up to, Myriad?"

[Metastachydium]

Minutes. Delja narrows her eyes for a moment. Those are… Oh, right. That weird thing when one counts to sixty, of all things, and it's used on some weird clocks. Probably another invention of the Sarrukh or somesuch. Correct. she nods at Ux Utanar after a long pause. Meaning… she suddenly hops up and onto the Dragonborn's knee, deactivating the Wispling disguise and going all blue again. Let me tell you something. she points a finger at the knight, now that they see eye to eye, folding her sword hand behind her back. I'll stop brooding when we finally see something done, and to that end, I'd really rather we postponed sleeping and baths and whatever else you all seem to think we are here for until after we gave it at least a try, or else we'll lose a day, and I'll brood a full day more. Am I all clear?

[Geeksthenewsexy]

Pointing the box out in answer to Ux's question, Myriad explains, "Someone has used this as part of a Gemjump spell. So, someone can use it to anchor a teleport, popping in here whenever they like. If I was going to place down emergency teleport anchors like that, it I would hide them much better." Pausing to consider the idea, she nods thoughtfully, "Like take a cobblestone from some random corner of churchyard or something, hollow out a space for them gem on the underside, stash the gem in there, and then just... put it back. Who'd ever think to look there? But here? People rent this space. We literally did just do that. That's a terrible hiding place." Sighting at the thought of such shoddy sneakery, the dwarf-shaped changeling seems somewhat dejected, as if disappointed in this unknown theoretical spellcaster and their lackluster performance in cleverness.

Unceremoniously stuffing the box into the bag of holding, Myriad glances at her companions. "What? If we stash it in the bag of holding, it can't be used by the caster to just pop into our room whenever - that spell only works if you're on the same plane as the gem and bags of holding and the like essentially connect to super tiny demiplanes. We can totally sell it later because to take that spell, the materials on the focus have to be high enough quality to make at least a couple hundred gold on the open market. Kind of their fault for leaving it in a random inn room. Again, terrible planning."

Seeming satisfied, she nods. "Yeah, let's go ahead and give it the old Bardic Collage try. Then baths and naps. Then shopping."

[remetagross]

Ux Utanar considers the menacing Delja standing on his knee. He frowns and answers Delja with a mildly annoyed, sonorous tone.
"Well I do think we have accomplished quite a lot already. Remember the Obyriths? Besides, you were already all broody at that moment, so I'm not quite sure I'm believing you when you say you'll cheer up if we give this a go right now. With that said, I'm okay with going right now, since you both want to..but remember not to jump on my knee again, it's most undignified for a servant of Bahamut of my caliber. To meet my gaze, you could instead, I don't know, stand on the shoulders of Myriad, I'm sure that's the kind of antics she'd appreciate. Wouldn't you, Myriad?"

That said, and once he can move around freely, Ux Utanar stands up and prepares to move.

[Geeksthenewsexy]

Looking directly at Deljy, Myriad grins wide. "Yes. Step on me. I'm all for being undignified." Waggling her eyebrows suggestively, she dips one shoulder and gestures towards it with a sweep of her arm. "I'm told men with more money than sense pay to get stepped on by women, and other weird stuff. Usually barefoot or with sharp heels though, for some reason."

Cupping a hand to the side of her mouth, she stage-whispers to Delja, "Maybe Ux us just too poor right now to pay for it and is just too modest to accept charity." Continuing, but still in the stage whisper for some reason, she continues, "I'm not modest though, so I always accept charity."

[Metastachydium]

Looking at the Ux Utanar Frown, her own bare feet, Myriad, and then the Ux Utanar Frown again, Delja is off of the Knight's knee somehow faster than she got on it. Alright. Alright! Some of us grew up in a swamp. You can both bite me. she mumbles with a sigh, more tired again than annoyed. The Wispling disguise goes up again. Can we just forget this conversation happened and go now? she adds with something like a muffled groan taking a tentative step towards the door.

[remetagross]

Myriad never fails to cheer Ux up with her warped sense of humour.
"That's more like it!" he cheers up and answers. "May the Lord of the North Wind smile upon our next journey."
He stands up and proceeds to leaving the room with his comrades.

[chaincomplex]

The party makes their way down the quiet, sconce-lit hall, footsteps alternating between soft padding on thick carpets and the announcing snaps of hard footwear on hard wood. Delja and Myriad can vaguely hear the occupants of the other rooms. There is little cheer or friendliness, and conversations are held with professional urgency. On several occasions, Delja and Myriad could hear the clinking of metal arms and armor. The soundscape is reminiscent of an adventurer's lodge. This is no ordinary inn, that much is certain.

The party ascends to the main lodgings hall and pass the purser's office through whose doorway the party glimpses Aietta staring intensely at some complex chart in a massive tome. They descend the stairway to the entryway.

Outside in the cold night air, the party glimpses Grimbug and Ereshki standing no more than five feet from each other, engaged in some kind of staring contest.

────────────

The party descends into the first of many halls of the tavern part of The Twelve Factols. Humanoids and outsiders crowd the tables. These are no common denizens, and virtually all their chatter concerns conflict in some fashion. A good number are dressed for the part as well—staves and blades are sheathed or leaning against tables. Armor or rune-engraved robes are common. Several tables have maps or charts spread out on them, corners held down by mugs of sweet spiced mead or plates of roasted meats.

These taverns consist of four levels (see map). Bertrand, the barkeep Myriad met earlier, is on the third, where there is also a stage for fighters to compete. At the moment a dwarf and large demon are sparring in a show match, the clanging of their weapons rising above the din of the crowd.

On the second floor several private rooms adjoin the main hall. There is also a planetar seated, drinking and talking to three companions consisting of two humanoids and some manner of baatezu. The planetar is drinking mead with the others, great white feathery wings shuddering with each gulp, which is the kind of odd sight one usually only sees in Sigil.

The first and deepest floor is an empty hall lined with statues of stately looking humanoids. At the far end of the hall is a grand stairway leading down to the darkness of the Catacombs. No one is here and the only sounds are those that filter from the stairway up to the rest of the tavern. A chaotic collection of dirty boot prints indicate that at other times of day, this would be a heavily trafficked path.

[remetagross]

After having thoroughly encourage Ereshki to win against the cambion, Ux Utanar proceeds down to the first level with his comrades. He gives an appreciative nod at the sight of the first hall.
"See, these are people engaged in real business. It looks like the military headquarter of a dragonborn stronghold. We will fit just fine." He speaks in a quiet tone, since he knows the auditive acuity of Myriad and Delja can effortlessly pick up his words even then.

The dragonborn looks around for the entrances of any private rooms or lounges, but does not see any. He also look for a barkeeper of some sort, but that hall seems to be devoid of any.
"Let's proceed till we can ask someone for a private room we could use for ourselves. Shall we?".

[Metastachydium]

Delja, still somewhat grumpy about All the Things that Never Happened, gives the closed doors with people altogether likely all too interested in getting close to danger, whether they can hadle it or not, a displeased grimace. This is bound to get unneccessarily complicated.

"See, these are people engaged in real business. It looks like the military headquarter of a dragonborn stronghold. We will fit just fine." [/B]

See, I'd rather we didn't, for once. she retorts as Ux Utanar notices roughly the same issue a level later, barely lowering her own voice. The Dragonborn… Has earholes, but doesn't seem to use them much. And she's not climbing onto Myriad to get closer to them. Given the circumstances… she mumbles, mostly to herself, and, as sadly as inevitably, likely to Myriad as she heads straight for the stairs.

"Let's proceed till we can ask someone for a private room we could use for ourselves. Shall we?".

The Knight's second comment elicits only the merest shake of her head, ion the other hand. All too direct. Way too much like Ux Utanar. They need to be a tad more subtle about this. Quite a crowd. she speaks up. And I'd rather not sit by the stage now antway. Could you see about drinks while Druce and I check down if there's free tables? she looks up at the Dragonborn, trying to make the look very suggestive to Ux, but very hard to notice for much everyone else. Please?

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Bluff to tell Ux "we'll go be nosy, let's not do your plan" discreetly: (1d20+20)[26]

[chaincomplex]

Ux Utanar. It is, of course, a DC 15 Sense Motive check on the dragonborn's part to detect his nixie companion's secret message.

Delja Utorak. There are, though not many, free tables on the top two floors of the tavern. The bottom floor, the so-called Twelve Factols Hall, has no tables to speak of, and the floor above that, Deep Hall, is fully occupied by humanoids and outsiders, including the planetar just casually seated like any other denizen of Sigil, mug in muscular hands, engaged in calm but natural conversation with his companions.

Listening casually to the surrounding chatter, Delja notes that most tables are occupied by adventurers discussing and relating recent delves into the Catacombs, either to colleagues in the business or—being a good chunk of the patrons here, the nixie observes—interested journalists, historians, cartographers, or other laypeople documenting the adventurers' discoveries.

────────────

On the third floor, Storm Hall, the barkeep works behind the counter, partly concealed by rows of bottles on shelves bearing the colorful and exotic labels of drinks from across the planes. The bottom row of one shelf has a collection local drinks, primarily featuring meads, ciders, and rums branded Greengage. On the shelves above any semblance of organization drops away. There are Tethyrian spiced wines, a familiar sight for any Faerûnian, but there are also Abanasinian spirits from Krynn, Celadonian mead from Flanaess, Kier ale from Cerilia, Lhazaarian rum from Eberron, and more. The dizzying collection would take a good eye for drinks or places to properly comprehend.

[remetagross]

Ux Utanar, unfortunately, is completely oblivious to the hidden meaning of Delja's discourse.
"Drinks? Are you sure this is the best moment for that? I think we should keep a clear head in this situation, and not start messing with our clarity of mind with alcohol...How about I took you some fruit juice instead? But fine, let's think about our next move at a table then."

The dragonborn paces around in the hall, seeing no counter nor bartender. Exploring further, he descends to the third level in his search of beverage. At the third floor, he first eyes the ongoing combat between the dwarf and the demon. As always, his first impulse is to rush to the side of the mortal in his fight against an evil creature. And then he remembers he is in Sigil and refrains from making a second step after the first, groaning inwardly.

Bertrand is is sight quickly after that.
"Good evening, sir. You've got an impressive array of drinks here I must say. I'm in the mood for something sweeter though. Any non-alcoholic beverage?"

In case Delja (and Myriad) have replied to him that yes, they do mean "drink" and not "fruit juice" then Ux Utanar will purchase some real booze for them and some tamer thing for himself. Else, it'll be soft drinks for everyone.

[Metastachydium]

Delja succeeds in resisting the urge to stab herself straight in the head and resigns to just quietly roll her eyes instead. Absolutely. No racket for today. she says smoothly, slinkking off from beside Ux Utanar's side.

♣

Having surveyed the tavern floors, the Nixie is forced to conclude that the only visible doors that might lead to the kind of side room they are looking for are, quite naturally, on the one that is already all too inconveniently all too full of customers. Such is her luck. This will take a… Different approach then. After some seemingly confused ambling around, she steps between the side door near the stairs leading down and the Planetar, and looks at the big winged thing, as though she just noticed the Angel. Her gaze shifts from the green face to the mug and back and she tilts her head somewhat, putting on a face of friendly calm. Tough day? she asks, more intent to pick up any noise from behind the door than to pay attention to any answer she might get.

Spoiler: OOC

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Spot: (1d20+26)[29], combined with
Knowledge (local): (1d20+12)[18] and
Knowledge (mobility&royalty): (1d20+8)[24] to see if there are doors she didn't notice and, especially, anyone bearing the insignia of House Sauvais in the room;

Bluff to look like an innocent little some-to-nobody new to the place: (1d20+20)[38],
Diplomacy on the Planetar: (1d20+15)[16], and

Listen to see if she can hear anything from behind the door on T18: (1d20+24)[29]

[chaincomplex]

Ux Utanar. The dragonborn approaches the barkeep, who is working casually in Storm Hall. He raises his spectacled gaze to meet Ux's. A fast sequence of clashing metal from across the room mixes with a deep, loud chuckle. A few cheers rise from the crowd. The demon had knocked the dwarf on his behind, but backed off to give his stout opponent a chance to get up and catch his breath.

Speaking above the din, Bertrand says with dissatisfaction, "I suppose we have juices." It is soon clear that he means fruit juices of apple, pear, orange, or currant, all five hours "fresh" and only slightly cooler than room temperature, having been delivered earlier in the day. With only crude methods of cold storage in-house, Bertrand explains, he only has a small batch of juices delivered per day for use in foods and drinks. And for just a mug of juice he is charging a full 1 gp.

Still, he does his best to make the mugs of juice palatable. He goes through a process of mixing in various colorful spices in turn, stopping to sample the concoction with a private cup, then adjusting and repeating until he is satisfied. In the end Bertrand sets Ux's order before him. The spiced juices Ux picks up have an alluring aroma. Whatever Bertrand did, he is clearly skilled.

────────────

Delja Utorak. The angel takes a deep drink then looks at the nixie with pupilless eyes which glint like pearls. His emerald-tinged skin and great white feathery wings marks him as a planetar. With a small smile tugging at his lips, he says in a deep voice, "For those who dive the Catacombs, having a 'tough day' is a thing of pride, so does masochism breed in the heart of adventurers. With this in mind: No, stranger, I did not have a tough day, for I am no adventurer."

"You were just mentioning your dive this early noon," says the other outsider at the table pointedly in a deep, velvety voice. This creature is a cambion. His Hell-tinged skin and crooked horns do not mar his otherwise very handsome features. It is obvious to any onlooker that he is wearing a treasury's worth of magical gear. The chain shirt barely visible under his loose overgown shimmers gently of its own accord. A gorgeous, intricately detailed rapier handle is visible at his belt. He is fitted with just-as-expensive-looking rings, alongside a signet ring bearing some abstract mark. His other accoutrements—boots, belt, necklace—are of evident magical quality.

Delja does not recognize the mark on the cambion's signet ring. While she does not recall what House Sauvais's heraldry or mark would be, it being actually a somewhat obscure piece of Cage trivia for reasons of local customs, it is not lost on the nixie that no one else in the room is (visibly) wearing a signet ring.

Straining to listen through the door at T18, Delja hears nothing. The loud chatter going on in the main hall is not helping.

"So I was," says the planetar, turning to the cambion. "And to answer your question, my curious friend, the Huntress did not return from the way of the Antenmen Passage."

One of the others at the table, a graceful elf in robes, speaks. "Most curious, indeed."

The cambion snorts softly. "A riddle, then. Of what interest could the first two layers be to the Huntress?"

"Let us avoid speculation," says the elf. "I have an inkling that, on this matter, we could place a hundred guesses and be wrong a hundred times over."

[Metastachydium]

Seeing that going all Myriad (well, a lot less offensively obnoxious Myriad, at any rate) on the clientele seems to be working out in her favour so far, Delja narrows her eyes somewhat and touches her chin with a pensive left index finger. The Huntress? The big name delving person? she asks, as though confused. The Huntress may not be her chief reason to be here, but Ux Utanar said she's a Midai agent. That's related. Worth a few more moments of idle chat however she might look at it. Is this An-ten-men Passage some really wild place?

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Bluffing on: (1d20+20)[38]

[remetagross]

Ux Utanar remains pleasantly smiling all the way through Bertrand's antics. I suppose it's not that often people order that kind of stuff to him.
His patience is rewarded with these three mugs of artfully composed fruit juice and spices. He even remains unflinching when the barkeep asks for the outrageous price of 1gp a mug (ok, one nostril twitched a little bit).
"...well, I can't say these are cheap, but I confess they look great. What are they?" he says amiably as he puts the coins on the counter and spins around, cups in hand. And then he sees the dwarf warrior panting, hands on his knees, while the demon waits intently at the opposite side of the ring, clearly letting his opponent rest a little. Huh.
The dragonborn turns around once more to face the counter. He carefully puts the cups back, fetches another coin and slides it to Bertrand.
"And one more juice for the dwarf warrior, please. Your most energizing one. Do not say it was from me. He fights well, but is clearly in need of something to keep his spirits up."

Thus lightened of four gold pieces and burdened of three fruit juices, he heads back to the upper floor to join Delja and Myriad.