The sun has risen, but the Blot still remains.
By now the Blot is an everyday happenstance here in Riddleport, sometimes dimming the sun's light, other times casting a shadow on the night sky itself. It has long baffled both locals and visiting mages, but today the Blot is not the focus of attention.
No, today the gala known as the "Cheat the Devil and Take His Gold", held at the Golden Goblin casino, takes place tonight! As the sun rises, so does the enthusiasm of the hopefuls and the skepticism of others. Rumors abound and bets are already being wagered between friends as to who the winner will be.
"Nessa? Nessa, the High Priestess would like to see you!"
Feel free to make as much or little of this as you want.
Hal'dorel, this mission is not like your usual ones. You must infiltrate the gaming hall known as the Golden Goblin tonight during the "Cheat the Devil and Take His Gold" event. Something important is about to happen, and you must be there to witness it. Good luck.
Like always, it isn't signed, but this one has been more cryptic than the rest. You may make of it what you will.
When she reaches Shorfa's room, she knocks and then enters. In her most seductive tone of voice, "You called for me Mistress Pamodae?"
The courtroom is near adjourned. The hammer slams down like thunder carrying the sentence to a closure.
"Wait! Judge!"
Yandasana lifts up from her bed rather quickly in a panic. With her eyes finally opened, she takes a breath and wipes the sweat off her face. "Just a dream."
Hearing the bustling activity, she gets up from the bed. As she efficiently dresses herself. she notices slight bubbles from one of her alchemical experiments. She takes a taste of it, but the drink she took in was rather bitter.
"Well, I might as well do some experimentation. " She sits down on the only chair in the room. "The desk is not too sturdy, but it will do." She begins to smile as she spends her time mixing ingredients together. She eventually relaxes in her technique of measurements and calculations. She is deeply focused in her work for a full hour until her stomach begins to grumble.
After a hearty complimentary breakfast at where she stayed for the night, she heads outside with all her belongings to find out more answers about the strange blot before the tournament starts.
"Greetings, Nessie. I'm so glad you came on such short notice.[b]" She motions for you and the other woman to approach. "[b]This is Liry Parmenter, an employee of that tramp Saul Vancaskerkin. She has a proposition for you I feel might be up your alley."
Liry, a young human with short dark hair, looks at you with wary awe. "Hello, Miss Meretrix. I am, as her grace says, an employee of the Golden Goblin and its proprietor, Mr. Vancaskerkin. As I am short on time, forgive me if I come straight to the point.
"My employer wants to hire you for the 'Cheat the Devil" event as a waitress, or succubus to be more precise. He's willing to pay you handsomely, but you'll have to play the part. What do you say?"
Despite the pounding in his temples, Cameron wakes with the dawn. Bleary eyed he gets up, the dire portents and after effects of last night's reading still ringing round his skull. He glances down at his harrow deck, no time for that later.
Ever since Milon's sudden disappearance there had been much for Cameron to do tending the shrine. Grimacing he wanders down to the bath house for his morning ablutions. Half an hour later Cameron heads to the shrine and starts on the mornings chores, the floors needed sweeping, as did the pews, the altar cloth needed to go to Miss Ander's laundry, and the silver needed polishing. It was mid morning by the time everything was done and then it was time for him to lead prayers.
Most of the congregation were regulars, but there was one new comer this morning, Miss Cromwell, who ran the orphanage. Cameron acknowledged her with a nod as he strode to the altar, ritual robes billowing out behind him, adorned with the symbol of Desna. Cameron intoned the ritual blessings, beseeching Lady Luck to smile on their day. Cameron did what was required and the sacramental dice kept on rolling sevens, showing the Lady's favor. The sermon was on the brief side, pro forma even, for Cameron's mind was elsewhere.
Afterwards Elene came over to see him, saying "You're going to the tourney aren't you?" It was a statement not a question and Cameron replied, "My mind is made up, the orphanage roof won't fix itself Elene." It was an argument they had several times before. Elene sighed "You're going to do a reading too aren't you?" Cameron nodded. "You look after yourself now Cameron Hawkwinter! That Vancaskerkin is not to be trusted..." She kissed him on the cheek and left, a tear rolling down her cheek.
Cameron watcher her depart and sighed, they had been lovers for a while but it got complicated and they'd drifted apart. He closed the shrine doors and went into the inner chamber, still in his ritual robes he lit several sticks of incense, murmured a prayer to Desna and sat down for a reading. With practiced ease, he shuffled the deck twice and cut the cards took the top five and fanned them out.
With trepidation he turned over the step card, the connection between him and the journey that formed the reading. The Locksmith, Cameron frowned, a curious beginning. Gingerly he turned over the next card, The Inquisitor and a bead of sweat formed on his brow as The Rakasha followed. Cameron was troubled, the meaning was clear 'Tonight I'm opening or perhaps closing a door in life and finding something very dangerous... But what?' Not realizing he was holding his breath, Cameron turns over the next card and gasps, The Cyclone "Chaos will result, but how shall it end?" Warily he turns over the final card and frowns The Cricket, "Oh that's not the end, thats a beginning. I'm going on a journey..."
He picks himself up, reverently collects the cards, shuffles them and pops them into their case. "Well Desna, looks like I've my marching orders. Got to get myself to the Goblin.' He glances at his robes [i]'I can't go like this, unseemly. Better get my suit, I hope that tailor has fixed the tare and got the blood out.'/i] Cameron wasn't always welcome in Riddleport's gambling halls, he had a bad habit of winning.
An hour and a half later Cameron finds himself at a craps table dressed to the nines, inside the gold goblin. He'd been making steady winning for the last hour and Cameron had been getting increasingly nervous, trying to spot the floor manager without being too obvious. All that had changed two turns ago when rather than the floor manager, he caught the eye of this red haired tiefling dressed like sin. A shiver ran through Cameron, Vancaskerkin really was going all out. Distracted the dice spilled out of his hands, "Snake eyes, house wins" called the dealer.
Frustrated, Cameron picked up his remaining few chips and stalks off to the bar muttering, "A run of sour luck, I'm out."
Dolgrin opens his eyes and sighs. Well that tournament is today... Is this when the legendary evil will appear? Or was grandfather actually going senile in the end of his years? Thus far it seems like a regular tournament, regardless on how foolish it is to use infernal likenesses. Harmless? I suppose we'll see. The burly dwarf get's up and stretches and flexes, limbering up for the day ahead. Tonight he would be guarding a patron of the "Cheat the Devil and Take His Gold" event, a simple job but it gets him into the event without much ado. Perhaps I ought to examine the place in the light of day in preparation for tonight...
With that Dolgrin dresses in his gear and heads down to the common room. He grabs a loaf of bread, slices it in half and adds some meats, cheeses and vegetables to it, wrapping it up to take with him and tossing a coin on the counter, heading out the door chewing on his first bite of the sandwich. He then makes his way to where he would be joining and dropping off his charge, wandering the path they would take towards the event. Between bites of his breakfast, he takes the time to note the various alleyways they would be passing on the way, as well as other potential danger points, eventually making his way to the Golden Goblin casino.
"I'm flattered, really, but I must be getting back. I'm helping set up the decorations and ... things. Thank you for accepting, you can report to the Golden Goblin anytime before sundown to get ready. If anyone asks, tell them Liry sent you, and they'll get you whatever you may need."
Turning to bow slightly to Shorafa, Liry rather embarrassingly backs out of the room. As the sound of footsteps fades away, you can barely hear a nervous giggle.
Shorafa shakes her head, luscious black hair waving with the motion. "Such a waste." She looks at you, "You'd best get ready, Nessie, it would be unseemly for a priestess of Calistria to be unfashionably late, don't you think?"
@ Cameron: The insides of the Golden Goblin are still being set up, but the fiendish atmosphere is already prevalent, with dark lighting and reds and blacks for the color scheme. Other girls, not all of them tieflings, are dressed up to play the part, with faux horns and tails and some even with small, fake wings.
There are several other hopefuls here, most playing ordinary cards with the rest trying out the new additions to the gaming hall, such as Ghoulette, Bounders, and Skiffs.
@ Dolgrin: There are several dark alleys in Riddleport, most of which hiding anywhere from two to five thugs. The first few groups looked you over as if to see if you were a viable target for the day, but when they saw your gear they wisely backed into the darkness, hoping to avoid a fight with you.
The Golden Goblin, on the outside, as you arrive, looks like a regular odd-fashioned casino, the only oddity was the large, gold-looking statue of a goblin holding a d6 the size of his bulbous head. Some punk thought it clever to attach faux horns to the goblin's head, and you find a dwarf trying to remove them.
After a while, Nessa arrives at the Golden Goblin wearing what amounts to a leather harness with a short silk skirt, all in black, over her body and has her wings wrapped around her with the fore claws hooked together at her throat where a black silken collar resides. She knocks on the door and, when it is answered, she answers the person in her best seductive voice, "Hi there, I hired to fill in as a waitress at the even and was told to report her before the event. I was told to say that Liry sent me."
"Come in, Miss Meretrix," one began.
"Miss Parmenter told us you would be coming soon." the other finished.
As you enter you see the preparations being finalized. A Varisian man grumbles as he passes, saying something about luck running sour.
Another man, short and barrel-chested, is ordering the placement of various decorations. His graying hair is slicked back, he wears a distinct Chelish fashion, and his left arm ends not in a hand but a giant brass key. He is in particular yelling at Liry, now wearing faux horns and a revealing succubus costume, as she and several others are practicing setting the dining tables and attending the gaming tables.
"Boss Saul, she's here." The two men escorting you say in unison.
Liry steals a glance at you at the announcement, and she looks at herself before blushing again. She tries her best not to look at you as Saul turns to greet you.
"Ah, the lovely Mistress Nessa Meretrix. I am so glad you accepted my invite, but did you have to scandalize my employee?" He barks out a laugh before holding out his hand. "I'm Boss Saul Vancaskerkin, but you can call me Mr. Saul as long as your in my employ."
After the third or fourth wench with faux wings saunters by, Cameron sighs thinking, "Most unusual, if all this is simply the entree, what the heck does Vancaskerkin have planned for the main course? I hope he's not going to do anything foolish."
After standing around for a while at the bar trying to get served (the staff are rushing around like mad, and seem in no hurry to serve the early birds), Cameron gives up and decides to mingle a bit.
He wanders around the gaudy halls for a while, although he doesn't meet anyone he recognizes, the new gaming tables the workers are setting up look promising. Naturally they all have a devilish twist. Cameron decides to find somewhere unobtrusive to sit where he can observe a few games to decide just how badly the odds are stacked in the house's favor before playing himself.
Nessa gives both men a flirting smile and trails a finger along the chest of the one wearing only pants, "I can see from your reactions that I should fit the part I was hired for very nicely...or should that be naughtily." Nessa gives a wicked little laugh and then follows them to meet the boss.
Seeing Liry, Nessa blows a kiss at her before turning to the Boss. But she is so adorable when she blushes, see?" Nessa points to the poor woman, "A-d-o-r-a-b-l-e!" She walks up to Mr. Saul, "So, you are hiring me to fill in for one of the waitresses correct? How much will I be paid, and are there any rules I need to know about?"
@ Cameron:
You don't see the odds being too terrible in either parties' favor, perhaps it really up to Desna's favor tonight?
@ Those inside the Goblin (Nessa and Cameron): You notice a gruff-looking man carry in a ladder and a covered birdcage which is shaking and rattling violently. You also hear a muffled yet very angry voice coming from within the cage.
Setting up the ladder, he climbs up and hangs the cage up in the rafters and ties a long string to the cover. He then departs, taking the ladder back into the casino's backrooms.
He smirks up at the hanging birdcage and mutters just loud enough to be heard by you. "Ah, yes, it should be a very interesting night."
Returning his attention to you, he gives you a modest look over. "I have a costume for you as well, but you seem to not need one. You have the choice of wearing what you have on now or what the other girls are wearing." He gestures to the red leather and revealing silk the other waitresses are wearing.
"I think I am going to like this job. I'll think about the long term offer once I see how tonight goes." She looks around, "Now, Master Saul, if you wouldn't mind, I'd like to borrow Liry to show me where to change at." Seeing that Liry likely has turned even more crimson than before, "Don't worry love, I won't do anything you don't want me to, and we won't do it here either." She gives another wicked little laugh before she is shown the way to the dressing room.
Satisfied that the new games look reasonably fair, Cameron decides to get a drink before caching in. He wanders over to the bar and coughs politely.
If someone deigns to serve him, he'll nod politely and ask for, "Bourbon, single mind. Wouldn't want to loose my focus tonight, what with all the theatrics... " He favours whoever served him with a wry smile.
Dolgrin snorts as he walks the streets. No wonder he needs a bodyguard. That fop would get taken within a minute. How he's survived this long, one wonders. The dwarf thought back to how he had saved his charge purely by chance. The human had apparently had some dalliance with some other man's wife, the latter not particularly pleased. Had I known, I likely would have left well enough alone... but at least it gets me prime real estate to watch the goings on in the Goblin... Lukain Korvaski, he had learned damn that Varisian likes to talk, was some ne'er-do-well from Korvosa. A con artist, gambler, and self-professed ladies man. Apparently he had left that city to evade some other richer, more connected husband that he had cuckolded. The human's wanderings, likely including being routed from the more lawful towns due to his conniving ways, brought him eventually to Riddleport, just in time to sign up for the gambling contest. Considering the man's talk, I would hope he'll last long enough in the tourney for me to properly suss things out. I guess we'll see, he sighed as he arrived at the casino.
Dolgrin looks up at the dwarf trying to remove the horns. At least other dwarves live here... "Ahh... so those aren't to be there for the event then... It seemed a little much in any case, regardless of the purpose of the event," he says speaking towards the dwarf. "Do you work in the casino? Will this 'devil gambling' event be much of a draw? Just players or onlookers as well?"
When he closes his eyes, Hal'dorel can see the forest canopy and the azure skies of his homeland. Those memories are all that keeps him sane while enveloped by the stench of Riddleport's huddled scum.
Hal'dorel opens his eyes and focuses his mind back to the present. He stands from his cot, stooping slightly as to not hit his head on the low slope of the ceiling, his most income affording a meager attic. The sun is coming up over the east, shafts of light suffused with the gray pallor of the city lancing through breaks in the wall and the single window with its broken shutters. He pushes the shudders aside and peers into the city. A swirling miasma of smells assault him; mud and cheap alcohol and the villainous concoctions the locals pass off as tobacco.
...and human. Always the stink of human. While the dwarves and tieflings are enough of a pall upon the wretched city, at least they know their places. Leave it to the humans to ever seek to be more than they are; a bombastic, impetuous lot, prone to finding the treasures of the world and squandering them within the fog of their short-sighted natures. Hal'dorel's time among them is showing there are few redeeming qualities to the puzzle of the human condition.
*scratch scratch*
Hal'dorel steps out of his reverie to the familiar sound. From the single table he grabs a hunk of fatty meat and goes to the door. Outside it, seated in his customary morning spot, is ragged hound staring up with the ears pricked forward and wrinkles on the top of his head as he studies the elf.
"Inceku," Hal greets, hunk of meat secured behind his back. "What have you for trade?"
The dog rolls his head slightly at the word 'trade', then paws at an object in the floor. A heavily chewed rat by the looks of it.
"Well done," He acknowledges and gives the meaty morsel over.
The dog takes it gingerly and then enters the room to curl up in his customary spot to enjoy the meal. Hal'dorel had learned early on that other strays in the neighborhood were stealing these treats before Inceku could enjoy them. Of course it could very well be that the animal is smart enough to play upon the elf's desire to be around animals I other than the two-legged variety.
He let's the dog finish his meal while he gets ready. Once done, both would depart and go their separate ways, their daily ritual complete. Hal'dorel never knew where the dog went to during the day. Oddly enough, he respected the animal's privacy more than he did the city on which he was sent to spy.
He leaves behind the Banded Fist tavern and the attic he calls home, He looks upwards and spies the dark cloud hanging over Riddleport. Not for the first time since its appearance, the elf considers that the mercurial gods these humans worship may have finally had their fill of this pig's trough. Perhaps a well-earned and thorough destruction to blot this pustule from existence is eminent. The thought brings a rare smile to his face. Hal pulls up the hood of his mottled gray, brown and green cloak and flows into the sweaty throngs like a leaf on the river.
As he moves through the crowds, he finds that it's easier and easier to assume the role of 'Hal Greenwater' the longer he remains. The stone and wood of Riddleport had become his forest. The denizens now the woodland creatures he tracks and observes and on occasion hunts. Time to find out what rumors had sprung to life regarding the Blot above their heads. Hall puts his ear to the wind and listens as he makes his way to the Golden Goblin.
Hal reaches the Golden Goblin by midday, angling for the bar to speak with one of the bruisers dotting the establishment. Once done, he leans against the bar and commences observing gathered masses. He cuts cuts a thin figure, long brown hair past his shoulders, leather armor over mottled gray and green tunic and breeches with cloak to match. The fletchings of arrows over his right shoulder along with an unstrung bow. At first glance, he may be mistaken for a half-elf, but closer inspection marks him full-blooded.
Next to him, a human of better cut than the rest in the Goblin orders a Bourbon . Hal nods curtly to the man and continues his survey of the gambling hall.
..conversation at the bar...
Hal enters the establishment by midday, conscious of the inhabitants setting up for the tournament later the that evening. Across the room he spots Two-thumbs, one of the Vancaskerkin's few remaining men of loyalty. Hal shares a look and weaves his way towards him.
"Something important is about to happen, and you must be there to witness it."
The note, now a smoldering set of ashes in the lantern back in his room, weighs on his mind. What could be so important that a man of little note like Saul Vancaskerkin could be at the center? The elf didn't know, nor did he question how his masters acquired their intelligence. His is to apply the skills at his disposal and serve the Homeland.
"Hal," Two-thumbs greets, resting his hands on the bar next to his cudgel. The heavy ashwood weapon is how he'd earned his moniker. "Whatdya say? Didn't peg ya for for a gamblin' man."
As is his way, he responds with few words. "You'll need eyes on the tables..." Hal points with his chin towards the upper balcony and the set of eating tables. "Good position to spot trouble..." Hal looks back to Two-thumbs. "...before it happens."
"Figured you fer a outside cat, Hal." Two-thumbs shrugs as if to say, he'd ask...maybe.
Hal slips him a gold piece, eyes not leaving the human's. "Check."
(hopefully the gold greases the wheels)
@ Cameron: the waitress, a young lass attempting to be sultry, smiles as she delivers the bourbon, one hand on her hip and the other outstretched for the fee.
@ Dolgrin: "Nay, some blasted barzul somehow managed to glue these to poor Goldie here. Oi, you mind helping a brother out?"
Whether or not you help , the other dwarf introduces himself: "Names Feldin, Larur Feldin. I'm kind of the manager of sorts here at the Goblin. As for the turnout, if the rumors are reliable we'll have an overflowing mug of a crowd trying their luck for the ten thousand silvers grand prize. Folks that can't afford a ticket will probably watch through the windows for a while too, I reckon."
@ Hal: On route to the Goblin, you learn that the Blot was named after the mage Blakely that called it an 'atmospheric shadow'. Your own observations of it mark it as similar to a inky storm cloud, but other than the bruise color it doesn't seem threatening.
"Looks like an early winner here!"
"Of course!" Saul exclaims a little too excitedly, "Whatever you'd like! Liry, do be a dear and show our newest recruit to the changing rooms."
"Of ... of course, Mr. Saul." Liry stammered, putting down her tray and leading the way into the backrooms. Once they are out of earshot of the public side of the Goblin, Liry slows down and looks over her shoulder nervously. "I apologize if I've seemed ... standoffish, its just that ... I've never had anyone - much less a Calistrian - think me worthy of such attentions. It's a little frightening ... but kind of exciting, too."
Cameron nods back and remarks in passable elvish (the grammar is correct but the intonation slightly off), "Evening. If you were looking for a den of villainy and inequity, you found the right place." A scandalously clad Tiefling saunters by. Cameron shrugs slightly, "Promises to be quite the show, if you like that kind of thing." You get the impression he doesn't entirely approve.
“No silvers today, Master Jotunsson Ulfen Leatherworks!” grins Borgmurch, looking up, tightening his grip on the bag’s knot “I wanna one of your belts!”
The pale, tall old northerner looks down on the goblin, exasperated “No, once again, my name is just Master Jot… never mind.” he shrugs “Those belts cost two gold each! They’re several days of work, you just caught a bag of rats! Are… are you keeping… did you take them alive?”
Borgmurch pats the bag of rats, which squirms and wriggles and squeaks “Yes! Fresh meat be better for stomach!” he winks. “And don’t be ashamed of your name. Master Jotunsson Ulfen Leather-works is a good name! So, that belt? Them rats where chewing all your good leather, if it weren’t for me…”
Jotunsson pinches the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes, exhaling slowly. Borgmurch knows that when humans do that, he is about to get what he wants. Time for the extra push “Maybe I am not that hungry. Don’t need all these rats… Maybe I leave a few here with you, hey! Keep them fresh, I come back to eat later…” he moves to untie the knot.
“Stop!” screams the leatherworker “You’re a pest worse than the rats! Here, take away those rats, take this belt with you… hope you hang yourself with it!”
Borgmurch grabs the belt, sniffs it, then smiles back “Naaa, I’mma dress up today! Big day! Imma meet the Golden Goblin!”
The old leatherworker looks puzzled “But… you know the Golden Goblin is just… oh, nevermind...” he slams the door behind himself and goes back to work.
A healthy meal later, Borgmurch is ready. He washed his working clothes (his only clothes) in a puddle of last night’s rain, donned the necktie and the belt he got in payment for his last two jobs, and wore his best coonskin hat, the one whose tail he hasn’t chewed too much yet.
As he strolls towards the casino, he sees the statue outside “Aaah, this is good! I’ll have a statue like this when I get rich! Only no dice for Borgmurch, no! I’ll be holding eight juicy rats by their tails. That will be a good statue, people will come from far away to see that.”
He addresses the closest person he sees that apparently works in the casino, the dwarf fiddling with the glued horns “Hey! Good day! I wanna meet him, please!” he points to the goblin statue “He is the star tonight, yes? Nice horns for his big night! Can I meet him?”
Hooking an arm through Liry's, Nessa just smiles and lays one wing around Liry's back, "A woman like yourself is more than worthy of the attentions of a Calistrian. Just remember that our attentions are often short lived and passionate." Nessa seems much less flirty now, "Admitting your curiosity is the first step in liberating yourself. Right now we have a job to do, " with a much naughtier smile and laughs, "Later I'd be happy to begin your...education."
A short time later Nessa comes out in the same red uniform as the others and begins to move around amongst this in attendance flirting and encouraging consumption of alcohol and any other substances, though she does not use any of them herself.
@ Borgmurch:
The "closest person" you addressed happens to be Larur Feldin, the dwarf manager. "ARGH!!! Gobli! ... Wait, is that you, Borgmurch?" As he recognizes the coonskin cap, his face wrinkles from a wry grin. "By Torag's beard it is you! How's the extermination business?" Then the goblin's question registers. "Oh, old Goldie?" He continues nervously, not sure if he should break the news to the goblin. "Yeah, you could say it be his big night."
..
He arches an eyebrow at the human's attempt at elvish, the urge to push a dagger through the man's tongue creeps up his spine like rivulets of fire. But he tempers the instinct with one simple fact; it's the first time anyone in the cesspool of Riddleport had made the attempt in his presence.
His estimation of the stranger rises above Hal's conditioned reaction to one of interest.
"I do not." He responds curtly, seeing the tiefling for a moment before resuming his observations. "Such...things prey upon the weakness of the flesh where scum and filth reside." He glances the man's way briefly. "Your use of my heart tongue does not go unappreciated..."
..but I cannot stand to hear it cleaved in two much longer...
"...thank you. I am Hal Greenwater. By the cut of your cloth, you seek to win this tournament, yes?" Throughout, his tone is even and persistent.
Cameron winces ever so slightly at the switch of language and replies in kind, "Never could get the music flowing, unlike my brother. As for the tourney, well that depends on what the rules are, written and otherwise." He flashes the elf a wintery smile, "Some games you are allowed to win if you're lucky, some are just for show..."
As if to emphasize his point a serving wench dressed up as Tiefling, complete with vestigial wings and lacquered horns, comes by with a plate full of canapés which Cameron politely declines.
Returning his attention to the elf, Cameron continues mildly, "If you're here to partake, you'd be well advised to watch out a couple of turns, and see the lay of the land. And perhaps whose likely to knife you if you win. Ten thousand silvers is a lot of money, heck in some parts of town they'd do it for a thousandth of that."
Cameron hears a distant commotion outside but thinks nothing of it.
Yandasana is certainly unimpressed by what she heard among the scholars in town. Seems the only "progress" they made is naming the blot, rather than understanding anything. 'They have given credit where none is do.' She would not mind giving Blakely a fatal stab with her rapier to vent her frustration. But, she would rather have people doing that deed for her.
Yanda thinks to herself, 'Obviously, it is going to be hard to figure out whats going on here. The societal makeup of Riddleport doesn't allow for intellectual progress to happen anyway.'
She heads over from the populated streets over to the Gold Goblin. 'Avoiding the alleyways will hopefully reduce the probability of any thugs coming my way.'
She walks for some time until she stops for a quick observation of the iconic golden statue.
With the goblin statue in her sight, she notices that the goblin below the statue depiction's of goblin greed is clearly excited. Perhaps ironically putting forth the very nature that the statue exudes. She walks close enough to hear the last bit of what the goblin said.
He addresses the closest person he sees that apparently works in the casino, the dwarf fiddling with the glued horns “Hey! Good day! I wanna meet him, please!” he points to the goblin statue “He is the star tonight, yes? Nice horns for his big night! Can I meet him?”
' First time I have observed a dwarf and a goblin in friendly terms.' And with that thought in her mind, she walks past them with the intention of entering the establishment.
By the time she gets through the entrance she takes a good look around.
When her tail pops up, Cameron's eyes widen for a moment, and he knows a moment of panic. Yet he masters himself rapidly and despite his skin crawling, he manages to maintain a straight face. In crisp polite common he replies, "No thank you Ma'am, I've already eaten. But I did see several gentlemen over there who looked like they where searching for food..."
'Desna you test me, it seems your servant must thrust his head into the lion's mouth and trust in your mercy... I can only hope I have served you well thus far.'
@ Yandasana: You see the atmosphere reeks of the fiendish, from the waitresses' attire to the mood lighting to the slight smell of sulfur (or brimstone) in the candles and torches. There is a hanging, covered birdcage in the rafters, a string leading from it to the stage against the northern wall of the main gaming hall.
Two humans flank the main doorway and they ask:
"You planning..."
"...to play?" The second one holds out one hand, the other holding a few red slips of paper with black ink spelling out "TICKET".
..
He does not offer his name...a slip or an intention...
Hal's face remains impassive as the devilspawn works her ways upon the human. Such are the weaknesses of the humans, but the very nature of the demon...interesting...
He pins a measure of attention to watch for Two-thumbs' return, but focuses on the tiefling to ensure none of her infernal appendages touch his person. "Wouldnt I have summoned you if I had?" His gaze upon her is not of fleshly fascination, but the unspoken phrase - 'move on'.
He raises his hat politely and walks off leaving the bourbon completely untouched at the bar.
Without meaning to Cameron finds himself at one of the themed gaming tables. 'Perhaps one game, to calm my nerves...'
"Well, you are off to a good start gentlemen! I can clearly see you guys are trying your best to be assertive. But.."
She begins to speak more softly to try to draw their interest.
"I have sercrets that will give you more money from the owner of this establishment."
"Let me help you with your customer service practices. Believe me it will draw more visitors into this place. Now.. listen closely."
Yandasana waits for more visitors to arrive.
"Hello dear guests! Welcome to the Gold Goblin!" She raise her arms in a rather exaggerated way as if performing and takes a brief bow.
"Would you like to earn some spoils tonight? My dear newly found friend here has a ticket for you to collect. He hasn't been very vocal at the moment. Perhaps if you win this tournament, he will be speaking abut you for a long time. Just insert a fine piece of gold in this gentlemen's hand and other will provide the red ticket that fits the theme for tonight."
How to Play: Bounder is unique among gambling games in that both the players and dealer use dice. The dealer gets three 6-sided dice, and each player gets two 20-siders. To start, each player bets a stake (minimum 1 sp). Each player rolls his first d20, making his “point.” After all players have rolled their points, each player may double his stake if desired. Then the dealer rolls 3d6. Anyone whose point the dealer matches loses his stake. Then each player rolls his second d20. If the player’s two dice results are on either side of the dealer’s result—one greater than and one less than the dealer’s number—he “bounds” the dealer and wins an amount equal to the amount he bet. Otherwise, he loses his stake. If a player rolls a 1 and a 20 (or a 20 and a 1), he wins double his bet.
Ghoulette Rules
How to Play: To play, each player puts a marker and any number of coins on one or more of the spaces on the ghoulette wheel (minimum 10 cp per space). The croupier then spins Dungo until he comes to a stop. Dungo then issues an enraged insult at someone based on the particular topic he is looking at on the wheel. Any player who has coins on the subject matter of this insult is paid the amount of coins he bet in the next highest denomination—copper gets paid in silver (e.g., a 15 cp bet gets 15 sp), silver in gold, gold in platinum, and platinum in ten times the amount. If Dungo says “something nice,” each player gets a consolation prize of the amount of coins he bet in the next lowest denomination, rounded down (e.g., a 15 cp bet gets back 1 cp). Then the croupier presses a button that tilts the edges of the wheel slightly inward, and all original bets (regardless of win or loss) slide into slots under Dungo’s head and into the coffer under the table.
Those are the more interesting of the four games presented, if you'd like the other two, I'll post them as well.
"My brother and I wish to thank you, we are normally just guards and have little in the way of selling things."
Cameron reads a sign explaining the rules and sits down at the Bounder table. It wasn't a hard choice, it's a derivative of games he's played before. As for the other one, well he didn't think Desna would approve of those odds.
Cameron makes eye contact with the dealer an he sidles up to the table. He says, "I'm In" and pulls a few silvers from his purse and places them in a neat pile on the side. The dealer hands him several dice which he surreptitiously examines for anything untoward. 'Never can be too cautious...'
Assuming he finds nothing untoward he will bet 5s, otherwise just 1s.
'Lets how my luck tastes on this game... Cameron gingerly picks up the dice, blows on it for luck (sub-vocalizing Desna) and with a practiced flick he rolls the dice down the table.
He smiles slightly at the dealer, although it doesn't reach his eyes. 'A little higher would have been nice.'
He nods at the dealer slightly saying, "I'll stick." and waits for him to roll.
With studied disinterest, Cameron flicks the second dice down the table.
It clatters to a halt, he nods slightly and asks the dealer, "Bounder right? I'm in for another round."
He pushes his winnings forward and again blows gently on the dice for luck and throws!
The first hint of a genuine smile creeps across his face as he pushes another five coins onto the table, "I'll double, bet is ten silver."
Cameron knocks on his hand holding the dice and throws it down the table.
And his smile fades, he gets up nods at the dealer saying, "Easy come, easy go. I'm out for now."
As he wonders away he reflects, 'Down five silver, no big deal. I could have carried on but given that horrible reading, my luck's all messed up, best not to push it. Desna's apparently got too much on her plate to favor some low stakes side game. Lets see if there's any of the congregation here, that huge purse is a mighty draw and they'll be needing guidance.'
Hal watches the human leave the table, contemplative. Had he won or lost? He wasn't sure. For the time being he remains in place at the bar awaiting the response from Two-thumbs' boss.
He bides his time studying the faces in the crowd to get a sense of who may pose a problem later.
(+2 vs humans)
(+2 vs humans)
@ Cameron
@ Hal'dorel Two humans seem "out of place". One, a tall, gaunt man, keeps glancing from the event, to the lavatories, to a woman and back again. The woman, a reasonably attractive lady wearing an eyepatch, is sweating slightly as she plays cards with four sailor types.
Nessa continues to circulate with trays of food, looking for anyone who needs anything or seems interesting enough to pester, flirting with men and women equally. She keeps an eye on Hal and Cameron as they both seem like challenges she needs to overcome and also listens for any juicy secrets that might be worth some fun later.
"Nay, some blasted barzul somehow managed to glue these to poor Goldie here. Oi, you mind helping a brother out?"
Whether or not you help , the other dwarf introduces himself: "Names Feldin, Larur Feldin. I'm kind of the manager of sorts here at the Goblin. As for the turnout, if the rumors are reliable we'll have an overflowing mug of a crowd trying their luck for the ten thousand silvers grand prize. Folks that can't afford a ticket will probably watch through the windows for a while too, I reckon."
"Well met. Dolgrin Hammerfist." Dolgrin moves to help the other dwarf, but isn't able to properly bring his strength to bear due to the odd angles. He runs his hand over his head in frustration before trying a couple more times. The dwarf whistles at the report of the entrance fee. "I suppose it's good that I've got myself a bit of a bodyguarding job to get me in," he says with a grin. "Tell me. What is with the 'devil theme' for this tournament?"
He addresses the closest person he sees that apparently works in the casino, the dwarf fiddling with the glued horns “Hey! Good day! I wanna meet him, please!” he points to the goblin statue “He is the star tonight, yes? Nice horns for his big night! Can I meet him?”
"ARGH!!! Gobli! ... Wait, is that you, Borgmurch?" As he recognizes the coonskin cap, his face wrinkles from a wry grin. "By Torag's beard it is you! How's the extermination business?" Then the goblin's question registers. "Oh, old Goldie?" He continues nervously, not sure if he should break the news to the goblin. "Yeah, you could say it be his big night."
Dolgrin blinks at the arrival of the strange goblin. His eyes widen at the easy acceptance, even knowlege of the creature by the other dwarf, but then Dolgrin never really had the same hatred towards them that others of his kind usually had. It seems Feldin is similar in that respect.