Archer made his way up the front steps, ignoring the pain of his injured leg, and entered the bar. He knew Grift was here; a moment's concentration told him that he was in the back room, as always, and one card away from another winning hand of four sixes. He wasn't able to get much else out of his employer's mind (he never could, which frustrated him), but it was enough for now - he had to locate Grift and report just how badly things had turned out.

The tall, lean human ambled through the bar with purpose, drawing a couple of glances from the curious. His unruly salt and pepper hair and beard were matted down with the blood from his right temple, with crimson smears around his ice blue eyes and along the back of his hand. His usually meticulous studded leather bore all the telltale scuffs and gashes of combat, and the normally full quiver on his back sported only two lonely shafts.

An ogre intercepted him at the door. "Where do you think you're going, berk?"

"My boss is back there. And I'm going in to talk to him."

The ogre laid a thick arm across the door. "I don't think so. This here's a private room."

Archer had no patience for this. Glaring at the bouncer, he growled, "Look. I'm going into that room. Any more creaking from your bone box, though, and I'll happily go through you instead of around. Got it?" The ogre attempted to respond, but his eyes clouded over in confusion as Archer exercised another of his talents, and the human slipped by and through the door.

The back room was larger and more sumptuous than its door would have had you believe; but then, that was the idea. If everyone in Tradegate knew about this gambling hall, they probably wouldn't be able to handle the traffic, and that would attract unwanted attention. Archer stepped onto the plush carpet, squinted a moment while his eyes adjusted to the light of the chandeliers, and scanned the card tables for the signs of winning. One near the corner had a Slaad, a modron, a hideous tiefling female in a fetching evening dress, a human Xaositect wearing a boot as a hat and a fake striped tail, and a Drow elf in a high collared waistcoat seated around it. The Drow was raking in a sizable pot. Archer headed over.

"Hummmn. What's this then?" smacked the Slaad noisily, tossing back a severed limb from a nearby box of bloody arms, legs and torsos. "Hrmmph. Just as well."

The Drow glanced up and noted Archer's approach as the Slaad opened its massive, froglike jaws. "No, Hawccch'assh," he drawled. "This gentleman heah is an employee of mine."

Hawccch'assh looked indignant, and used his tongue to protest rather than snare food. "I don't care. We agreed, no interruptions. I'm eating him."

"Lighten up, berk. We're between hands," said the tiefling, looking bored. She had been losing steadily and was looking for an excuse to slow the pace. "And you've already got a crate of finger food."

"Y'all will have to excuse me a moment, gentlemen," Grift told them, as the Modron began to collect the cards. "And lady. I'll allow you a hand or two to win money off each other." With a winning smile, the gambler rose from his seat, adjusted his high lace cravat, and moved to an empty table nearby, beckoning with one finger for the ranger to follow.

Archer perched nervously on the edge of the chair as Grift pulled out and activated a sound bubble coil. His employer nodded pleasantly to the tiefling glancing over, than growled through his smile, "This had better be good, Archer. What makes you think you can interrupt mah streak, and embarrass me in front of mah marks? Busting inheah, unwashed, unshaveną You look like you've been wallowing in the Hive, and every moment ah'm seen talking to you, ah lose credibility and trust among these people - the only coin that matters to them. That is bah no means acceptable." The lean man glanced at the floor, flinching as if the words were slaps to his face. "Now what's so damned important? Did you get mah item?"

"Not even close," he answered, bristling with frustration. "We were intercepted by some Deva who didn't like the way we looked. We had to fall back - Millicent's still trying to stop the bleeding." Grift's expression soured. "It gets worse. Telerie's gone, blasted clean off the mountain. There weren't even ashes, or if there were, we lost them in the breeze. It was bad."

The gambler pondered that a moment, his expression unreadable. "Hmm. It must have been. But why are you heah now? You knew ah was occupied. Why not tell me of your failure later?"

"NOT failure," Archer grimaced. "A setback. And I'm here because Loric's mephits couldn't reach you with the message. We need your help getting Dulchus under control. He snapped when the Deva wrote Telerie in the Dead Book - sprouted slavering jaws everywhere and launched right off the mountain, tackled the damn celestial in midair. We knocked him out long enough to get back to the portal, but Sinder's laid out and neither Mill nor Loric have the juice anymore to keep him under. The Sinker went barmy with grief there in the Hive, and started hitting things, one of them being that Brass Golem, which started punching back. He and Anthrax have collapsed four buildings already."

Grift sighed. "Did you use the stones ah gave you?"

"Of course we did," Archer snapped. "We set the whole swarm of ioun stones in orbit around him. He's simply beyond reason. Not even I can reach him," he said, touching two fingers to his temple by way of illustration. "But he knows you; fears you. Your presence might pull him out of that crimson haze his mind's become, at least long enough for us to stop him before the Hardheads put him in the Dead Book."

"Pike the Harmonium," declared Grift levelly. "And let him level the Hive, ah don't care. What does concern me is how you've violated mah trust in you."

"What?"

The Drow smiled a dazzling smile for the onlookers, his voice low and full of menace. "One poor throw of the dice, and you've left the table, leaving half your chips behind. You've lost one of your teammates already, and you've abandoned the rest to tell me you're about to lose another. And you still haven't obtained mah item. Ah don't mind a gambit, Archer, but an out and out loss? Maybe ah should pull you off the higher stakes tables, since it would seem you can't handle them anymore."

Archer visibly bristled at that. "I can handle anything put before me, Grift. And I'm getting your piking portrait for you, or whatever it is, even if I have to do it solo. I just wanted you to know that your Cipher is dead and your pet Doomguard is on a rampage."

"Never count the chips until the game is over." The Drow shook his head, a small smile playing across his lips. "Poor, proud little Archer. It must be difficult having to admit to..."

"Setback," the ranger supplied, still scowling.

"...The loss of teammates, and unfoahseen difficulties. Ah have no doubt that you will obtain mah item for me. But first, we'll have to play out this bad hand. Let Dulchus rage himself out. Just distract the Harmonium long enough for that to happen. Patch up Sinder, oah whatever it is that tiefling needs to get healthy. Then ante up and try again."

Archer shifted uncomfortably in his chair, anxious to be gone. "We'll need a new scout."

"Ah wouldn't dream of playin' a hand without a full deal, Archer." Grift dipped a hand below the table to his belt and pulled up a heavy silk purse. From the chunking sound it made on the table, it had to have been stuffed with Ladies. Grift pushed the purse over to his employee, who tucked it out of sight. "It is a pity," the gambler mused. "Telerie was an ace." He pushed away from the table and rose with a smile, signaling that the meeting was over. Grift twisted the sound bubble coil again and the murmuring sounds of gambling could be heard again. "Sort through the deck and draw me another."

Archer nodded mutely in acknowledgement, then rose and headed for the door. Let Grift go back to his confidence games, peeling nobles to fund these expeditions. He was the field commander of his retrieval team, and they had things to do...