Zaradius remains mostly silent except for the sounds of metal caused by his armor. He seems to be a bit disappointed that there had not been a chance to wield his blade. Once they meet the balding man be gives a dismissive look but shrugs it off at the mention of the reward. "Well let's see what our benefactor has aquired for our reward." He says, strutting down the stairs and to the parlor.

Vanna uses the sound of armor-in-motion to orient herself as she goes downstairs.

Brana nods in satisfaction.  "Another job well done," she tells the others, before checking herself.  "Ah.  I've been taking jobs like this for as long as I've been working for House Thrune," she tells the others as she follows them, making her way downstairs.  "This wasn't particularly out of the ordinary.  A bit less violent than I'm used to, however.  That's not a complaint.  It's good when a dog knows it's beaten; saves one some trouble."

You make your way downstairs to the parlor. Pieces of battered furniture lie here amid the choking scent of dust and ashes. Beneath a mantle crowded with empty whiskey bottles, the fireplace shows evidence of recent use. The scorched, broken visages of curious cherubs leer from atop archways leading deeper into the house. A lockbox sits on the mantle, and Cimri heads right towards it. She opens it up and reveals the prize; a purse of 50 gold coins for each of you, and a heftier purse for herself. There are also four daggers in the lockbox; each one is of masterwork quality, adding +1 to attack rolls (but not damage rolls). The daggers are worth 100 gp each, and there is one for each of you.

Ursula pockets the money with a satisfied grunt, then takes a dagger and inspects it carefully.  Another grunt of approval and an expert flip, and then she sheaths it in her belt with a nod of satisfaction.

Ilshin smiles over at Brana.

"Both dogs did sit quickly when they were told to," Ilshin says as he slips the coins into this pouch.

He picks up the dagger and moves it so it catches any light along its blade. He then sheathes the dagger and hangs it from his belt.

"Cimri, dear," Ilshin says. "Do you or anyone you know have any interest in taking these tapestries off our hands? And this ancient relic?"

He holds up the old piece of tanning equipment.

"The one with the ponytail didn't seem too happy about my relieving them of these. Might fetch a coin or two."

Cimri smiles as she examines the tapestries and tools. "I might know a guy, for sure. Let me have them, and we'll split the profit, all five of us. Deal? But before that, I believe some drinking is in order." She picks up a half-filled bottle of whiskey and takes a swig. "Do you guys want to party here, or should we move to The Last Stand and spend some of this well-earned gold?"

Ilshin looks around at the others before speaking.

"What do you say dear sister?" he asks Vanna. "Deal?"

Then he looks around the room and the dilapidated state of everything and what appears to be the imminent collapse of the whole building.

"As rustically charming as this place is, perhaps The Last Stand would be preferred."

Ilshin gathers his things, hitches his pack up on his back and heads for the doorway.

Pocketing the coins and turning over the dagger in her hands.

"Alright," Vanna turns her head to her brother, "on both counts."

Brana offers a grin and a nod to Ilshin's comment, warming to him immediately.   As the others discuss what to do, she takes a look at the surroundings and nods in agreement with his assessment.  "If a dwarf ever says no to a drink offered, question their intentions immediately," Brana orders the others, making for the door.  "Now... less loafing and more drinking!"

Zaradius gives the dagger a look, raising a brow as he looks at the small blade. He shrugs and places it in the sheathe of his normal dagger. "Not my weapon of choice but any weapon is a good thing. Now let's drink until we can't remember what we have done for the last week."

"Sounds like a plan!" Cimri quickly downs another swig of the bottle and slams it down on the mantle. "To the Last Stand!"

Take this opportunity to do any RP you might like to do over drinks, and I will then fast-forward to your hangover and the next beat of the story.

Brewer's Supply tool proficiency, ignore effects of alcohol (DC 20): 8

Brana proceeds to partake of the drink while regaling the others with stories from House Thrune.  The spirit here is particularly strong, for it only takes a few mugs for her to lose her sense of decorum and begin laughing raucously and making off-color jokes.  In very good cheer, she offers to arm-wrestle anyone who's willing to take her up on the challenge. 

(mind if we assume the scene is now set at the Last Stand?)

((Yes, the scene is now set in the Last Stand; I'll post the next story beat tonight; I'm assuming everybody stays at the Last Stand overnight))

Ilshin eyes the rest of the patrons of the Last Stand, quickly wanting to make sure Vana and he are the only dark elves present.

"What a wonderfully infectious laugh you have, Brana," Ilshin says as he raises a glass to toast her. "You should be in the great halls of the capital. Do tell, how did you come to be in this dank backwater of a town?"

"I was sent here," Brana says easily.  "I don't move on my own anywhere without the permission of House Thrune.  They own me, and that suits me just fine," she admits.  "Though I will admit, they are a bit loose and fast with the leeway they give me, thanks to my affiliation with the Temple," she says.  "No one should dare anger our lord and benefactor Asmodeus."  Some of her good cheer dissipates.  "Including those bastards from the Glorious Reclamation.  That's really what I'm here for, see," she says, perhaps a bit too freely.  "Collect me some heads from those self-righteous knights trying to elbow in and destroy our glorious Empire.  Gotta find them first, though, the stinkin' lily-livers." 

Ilshin raises his glass again as Brana mentions Asmodeus.

"Hear, hear," Ishin says, taking only a small sip of his drink - Ilshin will appear to drink steadily but will take only a few sips here and there.

He nods to Zaradius to include him in the House Thune discussion.

"And you, our earnest and robust noble knight, were you sent by House Thune as well?"

As she sits Vanna turns the chair, outward, keeping her bear back to the table. She reclines, and the loincloth portion of her dress slips between ashen legs as she crosses them. In the hand closer to the table she holds her drink, from the top, one elbow on the table. Someone who didn't know her might think she was watching the room. A barfly might notice the way she holds her drink makes it harder to slip anything into it. She speaks over her shoulder as she says, "A remarkably well-adapted attitude Brana, I do wish more people understood the need for function and station."

"Ah yes my great how ever many times somewhat grandfather. I was born into his service and will die in it. May all fall under the heel of the great Asmodeus!" Zaradius yells as he downs his drink, seeming to have little care for the hangover he will suffer.