<div class="floatleft">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/0/02/%22Rat%22.jpeg)</div><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 14pt;"><strong>"Rat" Ratcliff Vander (https://docs.google.com/document/d/1cFr8PjgaKR0bQCeBh6ZGlstinqriTVdip7rSA7AS9EY/edit)</strong></span>"Aye, meet yer back here in a week. If'n I be needed leave word at the Leaky Mug, just east of the North gate of town 'ere. Ophelia, if you would, drinks at two bells? Meet you at The Burgeoning Nets." The term meant roughly 7pm and the place was rather high end for dockside. It was where captains met clients, and the high and mighty entered to say they were dockside without sullying their boots in sea water. Though as this was a shipping town, the bells could be heard from the docks to the fields beyond the gates.<br/><br/>When Ophelia arrived, Ratcliff Vander was awaiting her on the steps. His hair had been groomed, his beard braided and adorned with beadwork. It was obvious to his efforts that he had cleaned up for their engagement, even his boots had been vigorously brushed. He had apparently been inside ahead of her, as they were directed to a side booth, centered in the wall and though part of the room, was separated for negotiations. He was addressed as Mister Vander, and she as Lady Orwen. Live music, subdued, though just loud enough to cover the sounds of the city outside. He apologized for the false name, though she hadn't made it clear if she were supposed to be away from home or not, and her father's daughter in the city probably needs bodyguards.<br/><br/>He offered dinner, as they ordered drinks from the waiter's list, the cellars had a decent stout, and several high end port wines, all local vintage, though they also an imported an elven spirit, and a dwarven stout. Once the pleasantries were offered, he brought up the elephant in the room, so that it could be put past them. His job was security. They were heading to confirm about a necromancer's activities. She had a passenger. He needed to be calmed over its existence, to understand how he could trust her and it not to back other undead. This private meeting was a courtesy, one that he extended instead of dragging her secrets out to everyone, but she needed to see his side of things. If this necromancer could raise this many undead, would he not be able to raise one of the spirit undead that can possess and ride others? The meal progressed calmly, with him having offered her his side of the topic. He then changed the topic to the music selection as he then settled into his meal, a red bass with mushrooms, onions, and diced imported fruits. He did not press her for her answer the rest of the night, just allowing her to think it through.<br/><br/>He spoke of great and grand projects and accomplishments performed within the mines and Halls, all of which accomplished through the trust offered and shared among the performers. At the end of the night, as he flagged her a carriage to take her home, he stated, "I am rough around the edges, yet I hope we can work together in trust and prosperity." He paid the driver well to take her wherever she wished to go, and then, lifted the cigar to his lips, the first she had seen of the night.<br/><br/>*****     *****     *****     *****     *****     *****     *****     *****     *****     *****     *****     *****<br/><br/>The dwarf's week was spent seeking information, talking to sailors, discussing with merchants about villages and city-states that were now off limits due to attacks, sending requests for reports from military outposts that had responded to the attacks. He spoke with the merchants seeking any connections to the undersea tribes for information, or even being able to hire underwater shipping security.<br/><br/>*****     *****     *****     *****     *****     *****     *****     *****     *****     *****     *****     *****<br/><br/>Ratcliff Vander arrived for his dinner, in full clean up, braided and beaded, cleaned and cologned, the scent of his cigar only a memory, at least, until he saw the fag there beside the tankard, he smiled, "Ah, this is a favorite from the Adamant Peaks, aye. Make me feel right at home though, well done. Your a bit tall fer me lass, but if ye are proposing," a rediculous waggle of his bushy eyebrows clearly identifies his words as comical, "you may find I own a step ladder." With a bit of trivia he explained the difference between the recipe from each clan, as the grains of the breadbowl were different, and age is a favorite where basil and bay leaves were more common from his home. He accepted the meal, and paid for the evening in a dozen tales of the Halls, of great wonders and actions performed by dwarven families, crews, and armies, all tales of success through cooperation and trust. Wonders and successes that would not and could not have occurred without everybody being and doing what they were supposed to do when they were supposed to do it.<br/><br/>He had not the bard's tongue for this endeavor, offering his tales in specifics, details as though building or assembly instructions. Planning, precision, and execution were important aspects of his tales. Gruff may have been his voice, but pride burned in his face as he spoke. He saved a bite of his pie for after the tales, a final sweet he spoke, to close the night. Thanking her for her hospitality at the end of the night, she could hear him lament, "Ah, if she could only grow a beard she would not be too tall, not at all."<br/>