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Martin knows his job well, and the Saltmarsh crowd reacts as one could expect. Any new entertainment would have been welcome in this small town, and people are delighted. The man he targeted as having talked disapprovingly about Bryce Cousland turns to the friends at his table, muttering angrily, a very sour look on his face. Ara Redbow continues to frown, but it is kind of a satisfied frown because the slippery things she expected have come out.

Bryce Cousland pats Eleanor on the hand, laughing good-naturedly, and tells her: "See, it's not only I who sees that you are the best wife of all."

When Martin retires, conversation at once becomes animated and loud, and Tel and Nezza are happy Tel hired two more girls to help, and Tel's wife Lizzy is at the taps behind the bar.

Martin’s second set starts with another sea song, one which explores the point that for some sailors to have a girl in every port then, by simple arithmetic, some port girls must have a boy on every ship, then relates several incidents about those wanton women and their cuckolded sailors.

“Grazi, grazi. Do we have any dwarves in the room tonight?” he shields his eyes from above to better see the audience. There are no stage lights here, but old habits die hard. “Dwarves? There we go. Is it alright with you if I sing a song which pokes fun at elves? It is? Good.
“Elves in the room? There. I see one…two…oh, a few. Good. Is it alright with you if I sing a song which pokes fun at dwarves? Yes? Perfect.
“This song pokes fun at both,” Martin says, and launches into The Ballad of Saranrap and Yellobac.

More music follows, as does another round of praise for the militia. Martin then dips into ventriloquism, with his marotte as the dummy, although Martin has absolutely no talent or training for it, and makes no attempt at all to hide the fact that his lips are moving. To the first heckler that mentions this fact, he says: “You’re supposed to be watching Floyd. This is his part of the show. If you’re going to watch that closely, the show’s off.”
“Yeah, the show's over here, pal.”

With Floyd as a foil, Martin is able to do some of his more questionable material, on occasion slapping his hand over Floyd’s mouth while feigning shock. After a particularly offensive joke, Martin grabs Floyd and stuffs him into his pouch, using the distraction to palm a crystal from his other pouch. He appears the crystal and says: “In my next set…Fake Magic.”

Leaving his makeshift stage, Martin grabs a cup and a bottle of mead from the bar and heads over to the Couslands’ table. He offers to pour then says: “I am hoping to see your son here this evening, and his sister apprentice, who I have set about to woo, and their associates. My incisive attitude seems to have gotten me off on the wrong foot with them. I arranged this event in part to put a positive spin to their exploits at the mansion, to make up for hurting their feelings. Having them publicly thank the militiamen that bailed them out a few days ago can’t help but make them look good, yes? I do hope they will be gracious enough to show up. It would be unfortunate for them to miss such a positive opportunity.”

Bryce Cousland accepts the cup of mead and takes a sip while listening to Martin. As he lowers it, Eleanor speaks up. "Amon is a straightforward and lovable person, I cannot see why he would not accept an invitation. But he has guests himself tonight, he told me, so he might not find the time."

Having passed the cup on to his wife, Bryce looks into Martin's eyes. "What exactly are you trying to tell me?"

Daos Soulstaff had been listening in, and he rudely inserts himself into the conversation. "Yes, it would be nice indeed to know what you plan to achieve by all this" his gesture encompasses the room.

"Tell you, sirrah? Well, since brevity is the soul of wit, although it goes against my grain, I will be brief. Truth be told, I would hate to see such a grand gesture as this wasted. I have sent a message beseeching that Amon and friends visit Tel's tonight, since this evenings festivities are partly in their honor. I fear, however, they might refuse the invitation, for I did manage to irritate them yesterday. You don't suppose they might pass up such a golden opportunity, just to spite a clown, do you?"

Martin turns to Daos: "As a man familiar with the world's most arcane mysteries, Master Soulstaff, I am sure it comes as no surprise to you that nothing in the workd has but a single purpose. With this evening's event, I seek to make amends for hurt feelings, impress a young lady with my panache and charisma in front of a crowd, see to it that the efforts of the militia are not forgotten or taken for granted, and in the process remind the adventurers of the importance of demonstrating their gratitude. If I can accomplish all this with one grand gesture, I will count my day complete."

After a moment of thinking, Bryce Cousland gets up and lays a hand on Martin's shoulder, talking quietly into his ear so that no one can hear. "There is one thing I have to tell you. You are one clever son of a bitch." Greeting left and right, he leaves the tavern, excusing himself with "checking the guard duty change works smoothly, will be back soon" to anyone who asks. Indeed, a few more men reluctantly leave their seats at his summons.

Martin tries desperately not to startle when Cousland grabs his shoulder. Where he comes from such a move is often followed by a knife in the back. He thinks quickly - can he get to one of his knives, or his silk flowers? Even the plush duck would do in a pinch. Or Floyd.

But luckily Cousland only wants a quiet word, and from that simple statement, and the fact that Cousland is headed out briefly, he takes it that his message has been received. "Thank you. I do try my best," is all Martin says.

Now what? Oh yes. Next set - fake magic. He excuses himself and returns to the makeshift stage. "Good gentles, has anyone got a large, very expensive piece of jewelry, preferably one that is not easily recognizable, or which has a large gemstone that can easily be removed from its setting? No? Oh, well. Can't blame a man for trying.
"In that case, has anyone got a silver coin? Oh, good, lots of you do. Excellent. Then please drop them in the mandolin case when you get a chance, will you? I'll need to pay my bar tab before the night is over.
"Now, has anyone got a bag of tobacco? Hand it on up. Come on. You'll get it back."
Martin begins juggling, using the tobacco pouch and two plush hedgehogs. Once he gets a feel for the weight, he'll begin switching things out - juggling balls for hedgehogs, then maybe a crystal or two.

More feats of prestidigitation, check, get the tobacco pouch back to its owner, check. What else? There must be...oh yes. The militiamen.
"I'm going to take the show down a bit for a moment, and speak directly to the members of the militia. Now - raise your hands if you were at the mansion a few nights ago, to assist the adventurers who were up there. Molto bene! Now, give me your names, and forgive me if I ask more than once - it helps me to remember." Martin begins filing away the names of the rescuers, so he can repeat them when the adventurers arrive. "And I believe there were a few others up there who are currently on duty. They can come in for a drink later, I'm sure."

"I have spent time with militiamen in the past. Once, actually for quite a few days. But then I finished the tunnel," pause for laughter, continue, "and these men, and women, are definitely the finest militia in this town," pause, look left, look right, raise eyebrows, continue, "I mean in this region, of course. This one is for you." He launches into: "Alta Donna Fredda in un Abito Nero."

(OOC: High cold lady in a black dress? Is it Uriah Heep's "Lady in Black"? But that lady isn't really cold)

[OOC] Long Cool Woman in a Black Dress by The Hollys, (which is about an undercover lawman and a night club singer)[/OOC]

Bryce Cousland returns after a short while, smiling at his wife and the other council members as he sits down. Geraldine Petterson has come with him and joins the militiamen and -women who have just been relieved from duty, chatting with them.

A short time later, Brax, Vee, Gunter, Searos and Kim enter the Cobweb Inn by the front door.


(Rejoin main thread. After answers do Drake's actions/questions from other players, please wait for my post before any further action.)

Martin grabs another two rum drinks from the bar, then quietly makes his way up the stairs - well, as quietly as is possible when one is clad in clothing with bells on, and is slightly inebriated - to Brax's chamber. He taps quietly in the door with the toe of his boot, his hands being busy with the glasses, and awaits permission to enter.

[color]"Come in, please."[/color] Brax replies after a few moments, [color]"Master Drake."[/color] She smiles as he enters, sitting with he knees at her chest, pulling the robe around her legs.

Opening the door whilst bobbling two full glasses, is a difficult task, but it’s not Martin’s first rodeo, so to speak. He enters the room and quietly closes the door behind him. He gives a slight bow and offers one drink to Brax (placing on whatever flat surface is available if she declines to take it), then says, quietly: “Your associate, the towering, broad fellow, seemed quite concerned with the nature of this visit, and has apparently appointed himself second-line guardian of your virtue.

“But I am quite sure that ‘country matters’ have little to do with the purpose of our current conversation, despite appearances to the contrary. May I sit?” Without awaiting a reply, he perches on the nearest chair, swinging his mandolin around the front so get it out of the way.

“So, Radiance, what prompts you to invite the most famous entertainer in Saltmarsh to visit your private chamber in the middle of the night?”

"I have called you here to work out your motives, many would have walked on by. These matters are of no concern to you, yet here you are." she motions for him to sit on the bed.

"You seem concerned with things that are.. Well ours to consider."

Was she being too harsh? Possibly, but there was a serious person in there somewhere.

Martin reaches behind his head and undoes the clip holding his pony-tail, then shakes his hair out, sort of scrubbing at his scalp with his fingers. The resulting coiffure is a wild, unruly mop which, against all logic, looks to be wild and unruly by design.

“My motivations are simple. I seek profit, for life on the move is expensive, and diversion, for life is never as interesting as tales say it should be. This mystery you’ve stumbled upon seems like it might turn a tidy profit, if managed correctly. And you and your associates are…interesting.

“And whether you realize it or not, you need someone like me. If you keep on the way you’re been, you’re going to get yourselves killed. You look at me askance because I am a fool, but I am a fool by profession. Those who are fools by happenstance are a danger to themselves, and others. Sooner or later, someone is going to make the wrong mistake, and everyone is going to pay for it. I quite like some of you, and would hate to see something bad happen to those I like.”