[@BCTheEntity][@POOHEAD189][@Eisenhorn][@Austronaut][@Culluket][@Sleater]


It had been a while since Jan had said anything, and indeed it appeared that no-one really seemed to have noticed, yet there was a reason for this. That reason was, as was the want of many a Moot dweller after a hearty meal, because he had fallen quite asleep – his snores unheard above the shooting, shouting and general conversation between the old and new arrivals alike – but it appeared that this was soon to come to an end...

“[url=http://whfb.lexicanum.com/wiki/Luccini]Luccini![/url]” He yelled with a start, his face rising from the plate of mashed potato into which it had slumped; apparently, in spite of his state of being rather unconscious, he had heard the entire conversation and now answered without thinking, even as he wiped away warm and buttered food from one side of his face. 

“Did someone say we need a harbour? Well...Luccini is right next to the Tilean see, isn't it?”

The Duke of Trantio literally shook at the sight, wiping sweat from his unhinged and fevered brow, noticing that the Halfling had completely ignored the pointy-eared mercenary at the table. It was something that he however had not! Even as he spoke he stared at the Asur, his yes narrowing and his heartbeat racing, flashbacks coming to him even as he acknowledged the schemes of those around him.

“Master Dwarf,” he replied to Sketti first, “you can have your land, your gold and as much beer as you can drink! I swear it on my ancestors tombs.” Next he turned his eyes away from Baecion, for the moment, and took in the rest of the group, “you shall all have what you wish, either now or later as it may be.”

With a slight click of his fingers there was movement from Alfredo, the ever-loyal manservant making visible a rather weighty pouch in one scarecrow hand; it had not been there before, had it? It was as if it appeared out of nowhere, but now he launched it onto the table with a loud thump and the [i]chink[/i] of metal on metal, plates knocked aside and goblets upturned.

Falling like golden droplets from the loosened strings of the purse were coins of glittering gold, around a couple of hundred, the purse actually as big as the Halflings curly-haired head; there were some from Tilea, the markings of various Republics punched onto them, there were coins from several Imperial provinces, as well as Arabic coins and even...if one looked close enough...a couple of coins of Elvish gold.

Jan was not particularly interested in gold, a simple Halfling of simple means, but the glittering gift caught even his sharp eyed attention.

“So,” he said again in his rather bass voice, for one of the Moot, “if there are no objections, then I suggest we take this bag 'ere an head for Luccini with all haste. An hope we don't meet no pirates on our way to...wherever it is we be goin' again.”