Trig skips merrily along through the streets of Riddleport, feeling the cobblestones beneath her feet, which are bare.
Trig skips down the street, completely ignoring the shadow within the shadows to her left.
|Bú nìng yīng huā jié|
Reva arrived in Riddleport just a few days ago, and has spent every second of her life hating the chaotic city, feeling woefully out of place, and disgusted by the behaviour of the residents. Her mission was to investigate strange goings-on in the city, and the particularly the "Beat the Devil and Take His Gold" tournament. Her reaction to the Blot has been one of complete shock.
"They sent me all the way from -Mendev- to this rat hole because this tournament has a devil in its advertising? This is some sort of joke. As soon as I'm done with this ridiculous tournament I'll find out what I can on The Blot. That has to be of interest to the crusade."
Since her arrival Reva has sought a place to stay as near to the tournament as possible. Her intention is immerse herself in the other gamblers in order to pick up gossip and information about the tournament and The Blot. So far, she's simply kept to herself and eavesdropped.
Although it was barely past midday, the sounds of ‘worship’ from the room next to hers in the House of Silken Veils were finally driving Vris to distraction, causing her to close the copy of The Book of Joy the Mother Abbess had loaned to her and sigh. Comparative theology may be all well and good, but it was impossible to concentrate on anything while one was forced to listen to the sounds of passionate lovemaking only feet away, albeit muffled by the thick plaster and wooden walls of the sacred bordello. I am a guest here and under the protection of the The Lady in the Room. I will not let this get to me. To do so would be crass ingratitude…
Placing the holy text of Calistria back down on the small table next to the bed, where it sat next to the only other reading material available to Vris at the moment – the frightful poems of the Savored Sting’s other religious tract, Blood for Wine – the young half-elf arose and reached for the cloak hanging from the back of the door. While the room that the Abbess had graciously assigned to her upon being granted sanctuary was splendidly decorated – even sumptuous – it was still claustrophobically confining to one raised as a traveller on the roads of Varisia. Despite being a stranger to the dangerous streets of Riddleport, she needed to stretch her legs, and she could not even walk in the gardens within the temple here without some visitor mistaking her for a sacred courtesan. Again. Vris was tired of having to gently dissuade the ‘faithful’ of Calistria from trying to engage her services to minister to their passions.
Before opening the door and walking through the bordello, she carefully checked her appearance in the mirror hanging on the wall of the room. I probably don’t want to ask why they have one on the ceiling. I really , really don’t… Her cornflower blue eyes looked back at Vris, slightly bloodshot from lack of sleep and worry, and her pale blond hair spilled down her neck in a golden cascade, almost concealing her upturned, pointed ears. She spent a few moments brushing the hair and settling it back into place with several pins, and adjusted her clothing such that while the cloak would conceal as much as possible of her features once she raised the hood over her head, the silver medallion which proclaimed her service to Shelyn was still plainly visible. That done, she tucked the light mace Zumani had given her under her belt, and slipped the small, ornate dagger presently laying on the table back into its sheath. She was going out onto the streets of Riddleport, and already Vris had learned that even in broad daylight it was wise to be prepared for violence.
Leaving the room and heading for the exit from the ‘temple’, Vris exchanged cordial greetings with some of the courtesan priests she had come to know over the past few weeks, which for the most part were returned warmly by the Calistirans. The huge Ulfen woman standing guard at the doorway to the House of Silken Veils, garbed in black leather armor and yellow silks, somehow managed to appear both menacing and sensual at the same time. Smiling at the temple enforcer as she approached, Vris nodded and gripped the door handle. ”I'm popping out to the Gold Goblin to see how Boo is settling in there, Helga. I have a bad case of cabin fever and I desperately need a change of scenery. Please tell the Mother Abbess if she should enquire as to where I've gone?” Grinning back at the half-elf girl, the enforcer patted the wooden club she favored for encouraging unruly worshippers to behave themselves, replying in her thick northern accent. ”Alright, little sister, but be careful. If anyone bothers you, you tell them Helga will want to speak with them later, yes?”
Waving back to the huge Ulfen as she stepped out onto the busy, noisome street beyond, Vris couldn't help feeling gratitude towards the woman and her fellow Calistrians. They have been so kind so far, offering me shelter until I can figure out what to do. But my cousins will figure out I fled to Riddleport sooner or later. I'd best be gone once they do. She pulled the hood over her head and set out with a deceptively confident stride towards the nearby gaming hall where one of her new Calistrian friends was now working, curious to see exactly what sort of work Boo was engaged in. She said something about a gambling tournament tomorrow. Maybe that could be diverting, provided their games are honest.
Turning into the street heading for the Gold Goblin, Vris glanced up at ‘The Blot’ - At least that was how the locals were referring to the strange, black void which had settled into the skies above the town – as though it was a brooding, menacing living thing with a name. I don’t like it either, but as to what it portends – if anything – I have no idea. Let the Cyphermages worry about the thing for now. Touching the silver medallion under her cloak, she whispered a brief prayer to her goddess. ”If that darkness up there has anything to do with why my path has brought me here, I trust you'll let me know what you want done about it soon, my beloved Lady.” With a final glance up at the strange phenomenon, Vris stepped off the street and through the doors of the gambling hall.
I hope Bu is okay with how I've included her in Vris' opening post - if not, sorry and we can retcon it.
In the early morning light, Trig hopped and skipped down the street, jumping from one cobblestone to another, trying to land on the ones made of unusually-shaped or colored rock. When she landed on an especially unusual one, she rubbed her bare feet over it briefly. "Hmm, basalt... no, granite. How lovely, and unusual here.." She progresses in this way, having left far earlier than she needed to in order to get to the cheap kitchen she had secured a few days work at. She liked it -- it was at one of the dwarf taverns that she had come to frequent in the three weeks she'd been in Riddleport; she had heard the owner saying that his dishwasher was ill, and piped up with an offer to work. It wasn't going to last, though, that she knew.
She glances up at the Blot in the sky. Looks like a giant ink stain... maybe a god got careless with the pen? she wonders.
Magnus, if you'd like to make this tavern where your character is having breakfast, you're welcome to. Otherwise we can come together somewhere else.
"Mornin' boys!" she cheerily greets the hung-over, grumpy, and barely-awake dwarves who were eating breakfast. She winks at one she's had her eye on for a few days Magnus this can be you if you want but who has yet to respond to her flirtations. If I can't coax him out of his shell in the next day or two, time to find another fellah to focus on, she thinks.
Into the kitchen she skips, her shoes tied to her belt, hopping up on a stool she placed in front of the washtub the day before. While she begins washing the dishes, she greets Rusilka Foundersdottir, the boss of the kitchen. "So any word on that gambling tourney? Think they oughta need a bunch of workers for that eh? Sammie'll be back day after tomorrow so I gotta find something else to do." She pauses in thought. "Mind if I take the afternoon shift tomorrow? I want to head over there tomorrow morning and see if I can find anything. Gotta be something there for me... maybe I can be a bouncer and shoot rainbows into the eyes of anyone making a disturbance." The old Dwarf woman shrugs and grunts her assent.
This would have taken place the day before whatever events you want to occur in the morning at the gambling hall.
A dwarf trudges steadily up the muddy slope toward the gas forges. He is troubled, tucking his hands into his broad, brass belt as he walks, barreling into some clumsy human. "Eyn imglik iz far im veynik! Why do you not vatch vhere you are walkink, human?" he grumbles, hand reflexively shooting to his coinpurse, and the axe in his belt. Not a pickpocket then. A drunk. Bah.
He makes to continue on, grumbling to himself, but is soon halted by a deep, hoarse coughing fit that leaves him clutching the wall, catching his breath. He tries to ignore the spots of red blood in his palm, wiping them into his grimy black beard before drawing his hood tighter against the dawn chill and stepping inside the smoke-filled tavern. Another season in the gas forges would kill him. He knew that much, he was no fool.
He sits to a breakfast of black blood-pudding, fried mushrooms and boiled duck eggs, with half a tankard of ale to wash it down. He grunts as the gnome girl winks at him, his ruddy skin turning a deeper shade of red as he stares intently at the bottom of his tankard. "... chaste Folgrit, save me." he murmurs, dabbing at his lips with his grubby beard before staring at the girl from under his furrowed brows. He listens intently to the talk of a tournament, praying to Torag and all of his sons that the gnome doesn't catch her staring.
perception: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (8) + 5 = 13 Hmm... might or might not notice... wanna oppose that with a stealth or bluff roll? ;)
Bluff: 1d20 - 2 ⇒ (18) - 2 = 16 Huh!
Trig doesn't notice the dwarf staring, but hums and sings a bright song about gold and wealth and making profits that her father, a wealthy merchant from Korvosa, taught her. As she sings, she wiggles her hips back and forth in rhythm.
On her break, she decides to get Magnus to actually talk to her. She hops over and greets him brightly, and decides on a topic he'll open up about -- employment! "So, Ironbeard, I'm heading over to the Gold Goblin tomorrow. I figure they surely have some openings with this tournament going on. You look like you could use a break from the gas works too. How about we meet there?"
The Dwarf averts his eyes, scandalized by Trig's swaying hips. He curses in dwarvish under his breath as he makes for the door, but returns for his lunch break.
As the gnome approaches, he looks confused. He looks to his kinsman. "Ehhh... Grunyar 'yz gerdut zw myr?"
"'s Ironfoot, missy." he grumbles, sheepishly motioning for her to sit. "And there is no shortage of humans in zis city zat vish to rob me blind. Vhy should I come to them, eh?" He takes a swig of ale, surly glare softening as he sees her expression. "But I vill be there ... miss...?"
Grunyar, does she talk to me?
Trig winks at Magnus and whispers, "The goal is to rob the humans blind, and what better place for it than when they're throwing their money into gambling? And, I'm sure there are more interesting things that are like iron than just your foot." She giggles and saunters off, turning her head and adding, "And don't tell me you forgot my name again! Trig, Trig Glittergold... see you at the Goblin, Magnus!"
Magnus nods at Trig's remark, befuddled. He certainly agrees with the sentiment, but if there was any hidden meaning there, it sailed over the Dwarf's smooth head. As the gnome draws in close he seems to grow increasingly flustered, dabbing at his ruddy red brow with an oily rag and trying to sink into his seat. "Ehhh... Vait. How vill I find you?"
He looks the brightly coloured gnome once-over and grimaces. "On second thought, little one, nevermind."
|Bú nìng yīng huā jié|
Stretching lazily, Bú nìng yīng huā jié looks out over the city as dawn breaks across the eastern horizon.
Is it today? Vancaskerkin's last gasp? It is, isn't it! Now I have to wait until nightfall. I hate waiting...
Ah well. Oh, Breakfast!
With that she traipsed off the roof from which she had observed the stars the night before.
I should likely stop by that seamstress I know to make certain my dance clothes are in best shape, then spend some time at the temple in meditation & prayer. Possibly lunch with Vris, see how she fares. After which I will head to the Goblin.
Sigh, this was not what I was hoping to post, but inspiration was refusing to cooperate & I concluded that something was better than nothing...
The Gold Goblin wasn't yet open - it was closed in preparation for the big tournament tomorrow - and Boo wasn't there either, at least not according to the guard who turned Vris away, after he'd made a pass at her. However she was unwilling to head back to the House of Silken Veils so early in the afternoon, and despite her lack of funds she decided to head over to the Publican's House, hoping to find some music - or at least a passable glass of wine - and while away a few hours in comfortable surroundings. Vris trusted the hospitality of the house of Cayden Cailean more than she would any of the seedy taverns elsewhere in Riddleport, although chances were that she would spend at least half the time fending off amorous overtures from some of the patrons. On the other hand, my coin purse isn't getting any fatter, and I've no objection should anyone wish to buy me a cup of wine in return for some conversation, so why not? At least I won't have to worry about being robbed or abducted there... She could also spend the time trying to find out what the other patrons knew - if anything - about The Blot and this tournament at The Gold Goblin. It never hurt to try and be in the know about significant events.
Diplomacy, gathering information about The Blot: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (12) + 6 = 18 +1 to the result vs. anyone who could be attracted to Vris.
Re-rolling above Diplomacy check, using Bit of Luck: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (10) + 6 = 16 +1 to the result vs. anyone who could be attracted to Vris.
Diplomacy, gathering information about The Gold Goblin: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (8) + 6 = 14 +1 to the result vs. anyone who could be attracted to Vris.
Re-rolling above Diplomacy check, using Bit of Luck: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (14) + 6 = 20 +1 to the result vs. anyone who could be attracted to Vris.
@DM Doc Evil - If you don't want Vris using Bit of Luck for rolls such as gathering information via Diplomacy, then please disregard the re-rolls.
"HEAVE AWAY ME JOLLIES HEAVE AWAY!" sings out Reva in a warbling alto before she raises a mug of grog with a gang of sailors, desperately trying to fit in. A rousing cheer goes up around the wharf-side tavern as the shanty finishes its last verse. Reva takes a huge swallow from her chipped clay mug with the others, and freezes in place.
"Excuse me," she manages to croak before she flees the table to a chorus of laughter. Pushing out into the alleyway, Reva collapses to her knees, vomiting up the mix of sour beer and rum.
"Iomedae save me, what I am -doing- here? Why did I think drinking with some pirates would be a good way to get information?"
With shaking hands Reva pulls a skin of water from her pack and rinses out her mouth, spitting out into the alley. She leans against a doorway, closing her eyes and calming down.
"Alright, so the most I've learned is that the Gold Goblin exists and it's a little down the way. Perfect. Listening in got nothing and I can't talk to these debauched sinners in any way where they'll trust me. Well, all I can do is keep asking."
Reva smoothes out her plain travelling clothes and steps down onto the harbour. She eventually finds a destitute young man begging by a street corner. Kneeling down, she tries a smile.
"Remember Reva, be charming. An Inquisitor must reach out to the sinners, and bring them into the fold."
"Young man, what do you know about the Gold Goblin gambling establishment?"
Gather Information on the Gold Goblin: 1d20 + 0 ⇒ (18) + 0 = 18
|Bú nìng yīng huā jié|
"Only that it is likely Old Vancaskerkin's last hope of regaining power & position here in Riddleport and that tonight may well be the difference between success & failure in that regard." A lilting feminine voice purrs as a white-haired Elf all but slinks around the corner. "So no pressure."
"Also, it's down the end of the lane & over two blocks." She adds as she circles Reva & the young beggar, her ?hair? also entwining the two as well as mimicking her gestures, pointing in the direction she rather casually nodded.
"I'm on my way to collect my clothes first, but if you wish you could come with & I'll...
Well, this one looks like she'll be interesting enough to stave off boredom...
At least until I find Vris or the doors open...
Reva recoils as the hair touches her, and leaps to her feet in a panic.
"AUGH! HAIR... wait, hair? Who is this? An elf? I.... Ugh. Investigate anything strange. And this one is very strange. I can handle myself if she means ill."
Obviously spooked, Reva takes a moment to calm herself before she drops a curt nod, the beggar now forgotten. She tries not to stare at the slinking hair.
"You startled me - ah... yes. Why not? I am Reva. Conversation that doesn't involve being vomited on will be a welcome change."
Trig is skipping down the cobblestones again, this morning on her way to the Gold Goblin. She hopes to see Magnus there, and to see what she can see at the Gambling tourney. She stops to feel the stones of the street with her toes again. "Ooh, Gneiss, that's an unusual one..." she murmurs, running her bare feet over the rock that she's found in the road, oblivious to the passing foot and vehicle traffic. She then looks up and sees a white-haired elf standing next to another woman; the elf's hair is moving and twisting as if it were completely under her control.
Completely forgetting the pulse of the rock under her feet, she runs across the street, splashing through a few puddles and vaulting the gutter to stand a short distance away from this unusual spectacle.
|Bú nìng yīng huā jié|
@Trig: I see what you did there...
Seemingly unaffected by the sudden increase in her audience, Bú smirks coyly as she proceeds further down the lane to a dressmaker's shop. "I wouldn't stop you if you wanted to leave, but this should only take me a few moments." She says before slipping within.
"Ooh, Gneiss, that's an unusual one..."
Personally I think that pun was schist... :)
Since making her way to the Publican's House of necessity involved finding one of the ramshackle hoys which acted as water ferries down at the harbor, Vris was heading towards the docks when she finally saw Boo entering a dressmaker's shop on the lane ahead. She moves just like a self-satisfied housecat - I can almost hear the purr from here. She probably didn't even wake up 'til after noon... Stepping up her pace a bit to catch up with the witch, Vris almost collided with the little gnome dashing across the cobbles, being forced to weave suddenly to avoid tripping over her. "Oops! Hey, watch out, little one. Pardon me..." Vris gives the girl a smile before stepping into the shop behind Boo. "So here you are. I've been looking for you since after lunch, Boo. What are you up to this afternoon?"
Regarding the Blot: You discover that the overlord has offered a reward of 500gp for anyone who can determine what the Blot is and if it poses a threat to the city. Many have undertaken the challenge, but so far there have been no results.
Regarding the Gold Goblin: You discover the owner's name is Saul Vancaskerkin, a down-on-his-luck crime lord. The place used to be a prosperous gaming hall before the city-sponsored Free Coin District was set up. Vancaskerkin is running a big tournament here to try to revive the place. You further discover that the tournament is tonight starting at 7PM and that there is a 10sp buy-in to start. Workers or those applying for jobs should start queing up around noon to be interviewed and/or hired on.
15 Gozran 4709 Absalom Reckoning, mid-morning
The day is clear and bright. Unusual for Gozran in these parts of Varisia where spring can bring deluges of rain, or even an occasional snow shower. Sailors step lively, and bellicose captains bark orders, as several ships are made ready in the harbor and cargo is unloaded on the dock before the weather turns foul.
The hum of the pirate town of Riddleport goes on, despite the presence of The Blot, an unknown inky black stain that fills a portion of the sky over the town. While mages, seers, and students ponder over the Blot, most of the rest of the town's denizens just have grown to accept it; just another fact of life living in the most interesting place in all of Varisia.
The other item that has people talking more than usual is the gambling tournament at the recently re-opened Gold Goblin Gambling Hall. The once vibrant spot has been closed for a while, but recently changed hands. The new owner has cooked up a new scheme to bring in customers, and posters for the "Cheat the Devil and Take His Gold" tournament are all over the city. Scantily dressed females, what costume there is fashioned as demonic succubi, pass out handbills on the wharves or the alehouses. Two incredibly muscular men, shirtless with turbans on their heads accompany the psuedo-succubi, threatening enough bodily harm that the lovelys aren't too accosted by the rough crowd of the city.
The handbills state the gaming tournament gets underway in earnest tonight at 7pm. In fine print at the bottom is a notice seeking help for tonight's venture. Those seeking work are encouraged to arrive at noon at the Goblin.
Magnus wakes at the dawn, and spends the morning pacing about his hovel, clearly anxious to not be at work. Unable to relax, he stokes some life into the hearth, sharpens his axes, counts his silver-pieces until noon approaches, stopping only to say his morning prayers.
He shaves his head smooth and attempts to comb his beard, succeeding only in snapping a few teeth off in the grubby tangled mess. Finally, he dons his armour and heads out the door, scowling at the dark blot in the sky, and at the strange, unfamiliar blue sky overhead. He arrives almost an hour early for the gathering, hunching by the wall and eyeing the newcomers with suspicious glares.
Wearing my throwing axes, hammer, shield, armour and holy symbol, and pocketing my dice. The rest can stay in storage.
Yep! Hopefully for some kind of job as a bouncer. Although he'd be woefully inept at it, as far as actual intimidate checks go. 2-skill points and a level and a charisma penalty tend to do that to a dwarf. As for gambling, I'm thinking Magnus only gambles with his dwarf-friends. All of the human games are crooked, after all. Hopefully Trig can get him out of his shell with more geology puns. :P
After Bu and Vris head into the shop, Reva loses her nerve and heads back to her room, shooting Trig a bewildered, lost expression. She spends the night cleaning her gear and praying for bravery for the task before her.
The next morning she arrives a touch early to line up for work.
"If they try to put me in some sort of a costume someone is losing an eye. Perhaps I can bounce. My mission is to find out what is going on here, ideally by gaining employment. I can do that. If there's one thing I can do, it's scare people."
Reva also plans on getting a job as a hired tough or bouncer but will take whatever.
Trig is up early, and meets Magnus a few blocks away from the line. "Oh, Irontool, is that a fork tine stuck in your beard? Let me clean that up for you dearie!" Trig uses Prestidigitation to clean and straighten Magnus's beard. "Oh good, it looks much better now... like a flowing river of obsidian! Gotta look your beast! I mean best!" Trig is clearly as excited as she hops from one cobblestone to another. She is wearing her best clothes, and a pair of high-heeled boots hangs from her belt. She apparently plants to slip them on when it's time to go in.
She notices the lady from the other day there. "Say, hi there... didn't I see you here yesterday? Did you see that elf's wicked hair? I wonder if I can get mine to do that?" She runs her hand through her spiky purple locks.
I seem to be having an oddity with my typing tonight. I keep substituting other words for the ones I mean. I left one in above (beast/best) because it sounded cute.
Trig figures she's cute enough to be a server or some other sort of worker whose looks are important, and she can be a backup bouncer-assistant to magically trip or zap people who don't want to cooperate.
Just before noon the next day, Vris arrives at The Gold Goblin to line up with the other hopefuls looking for paid employment, although the lingering effects of the hangover from having spent yesterday evening carousing with Boo wasn't helping her positive outlook. How in the name of The Eternal Rose does that woman consume so much wine and look none the worse for wear? It's positively infernal... either that or she's a better actress than I give her credit for. Taking a place in the queue, it's some minutes before she recognises the purple-haired gnome with whom she almost collided outside Boo's Dressmaker, standing a few places front of her, fussing over a weather-beaten dwarven male.
The half-elven woman standing stiffly between Vris and the gnome also looks faintly familiar, and it takes the priestess a few moments to remember. Oh yes, she was the one Boo was laughing about yesterday afternoon - the one she found speaking the beggar boy and looking like she was about to throw up from too much grog. The one who ran off before we left the Dressmaker. Just then she overheard the gnome's comment about Boo's hair, and spoke before she even realises that she was doing so. "I shouldn't think that you could get yours to do that with your hair too, not without becoming a witch yourself anyway... oh, sorry. Did I say that out aloud? My apologies for interrupting."
Vris will be thinking more in terms of working as a cashier or training as a croupier. Under no circumstances would she agree to wear one of those succubus costumes. Scandalous!
Please note that she has changed her prepared first-level spells overnight to bless, command and true strike. Also she is wearing her armor and carrying her light mace and dagger with her to the gambling hall - this is Riddleport, after all...
Magnus stiffens at the sound of the gnomes voice, his surprise turned to horror as Trig's spell yanks out several hairs from his beard. He tries in vain to smooth it out as the magic tugs it every which-way. "Wy! Farhaltn yener, velkh shatn!"
"No." he says, jabbing a stern finger toward the gnome. He gingerly traces his fingers where the hairs have been plucked, and through his admittedly cleaner and more lustrous beard. "Stop zat. You are not my mamen..." he grumbles, ears burning bright with embarrassment as he shuffles along behind Trig. " ...and is not Irontool."
Ouch! Stop that, it hurts!
Having found little in the way of servicable dwarvish (unlike elvish which is pretty easy to piece together on google) I've decided to use Yiddish, because I ended up sitting down to rewatch Fiddler on the Roof after the other day and it seems to have stuck. Using translators here and here if anybody wants to join in. I decided that the Hebrew script looked a bit odd in the post, but it looks so cool and "dwarfy" that I had to iclude it in the spoilers. I'm not really paying much regard for grammar, so I'm hoping nobody is familiar enough with European languages to notice. :P
Reva remains expressionless as Trig babbles at her before casting spells at Magnus' beard.
"She was quite... something. I'm no caster but I don't see why not if you know more than tricks. My name is Reva, incidentally. Best we know each other's names if we end up working together at this place." She looks behind her to Vris and to Magnus as she speaks.
As the spring sun hastens to it's zenith and the strange inky stain swirls and eddies in the sky, the hour finally approaches noon. Two large body guards with shaved and tattooed heads open the doors and lead you to a few temporary chairs arrayed outside the floor manager's office. There are the usual dregs of humanity arrayed in the line with you, many of whom may not have yet slept off last night's revelry.
Soon the door opens and a dark bearded dwarf enters. "I am Larur Feldin, floor manager of the Gold Goblin. To get a job here you must impress me with your talent. I will be calling you in one at a time and making on the spot decisions, there is no time for dilly-dally. Let's start with you." He points at Reva and motions her inside.
Here is pic of Mr Feldin for your enjoyment. I will keep a list of NPC's in the Campaign Info Tab to look back on. Also attached here is map of Gold Goblin. Link for map will be in upper margin area for ease of reference.
He motions towards what might be 3 square inches of sequined fabric hanging on a hook near the door.
The rest of you get a few moments to hang around a bit and look around at the interior of the Goblin. Of course you saw the oversized Goblin statue at the front entrance and the rich red carpet of the gaming floor, which upon closer inspection in the daylight is revealed to be quite threadbare, faded, and patched in many places. Work crews scurry here and there, dabbing paint, setting up tables and other busy work. A small cage hangs empty from the rafters at the top of the gaming floor. Several large brass braziers are being lit and the smoky smell mingles with smells of stale sweat, liquor, and who knows what else.
All in all, the place looks pretty seedy and like it's seen better days, but the touch-ups and darkness may do a little to cover up the place's many flaws.
The office is Area 9. The cashier cage is area 3 and a guard stands there now. All the doors to other rooms are closed, and you don't get a good look at any of those spots for now.
Reva's face remains stony as she stares at the dwarf.
"Why am I not surprised? Alright Reva, you knew this was coming, time to impress him."
Slowly, purposefully she stalks towards the dwarf staring at him with utter venom.
"I. Will. Not. Shake. My. As--AUGH!"
Intimidate: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (2) + 8 = 10
As Reva moves over to the dwarf, she manages to trip and collapse face-first. Beet red, she pulls herself to her feet, biting back a curse. Nervous, she speaks quickly.
"Look I'll take whatever jobs you have, but trust me, I'm best used to keep people in line. This sword isn't for show. Do you have anything else?"
"Torag's Beard! I haven't seen a girl with that much spunk a'fore. Most 'll get up in the outfit and take the few silvers they earn. But you've got principles eh?...Well, I can use someone with principles. Very few in this town equipped that way, eh? Keep yer weapons an' armor on then, and help stand guard. You can watch the kitchen and private room doors. It don't pay much, just 1 gold for the night, but you can eat free an' it's better than that git-up."
The kindly dwarf offers you his hand to shake. "Report to Hans or Beyar, the bald ones, and they'll get you stationed."
With that he dismisses you and calls in Trig next.
When Trig hears her name, she slips on her boots. Trig is a pretty tall gnome as it is, about 3'7", and in two-inch heels she looks almost like a slender female dwarf that made some questionable makeup and hair color choices. She saunters into the room and smiles warmly at Feldin. "Ooh, what a beard! It's always nice when a man keeps himself well-groomed. Wonderful rusty color as well. So what kind of jobs do you have coming up tonight?" She is quite sincere -- she finds Mr. Feldin pretty attractive.
D'oh, ninja'ed by the gnome. Ok, edits coming up.
"Well now, my pretty, you've got a softer touch than the longshanks girl who just left. Are you as flirtatious with everyone? You could earn nice tips as a server in the cocktail lounge? But there is matter of the costume..." He indicates the skimpy succubus costume hanging behind him which is obviously made for a human-sized female to be barely covered.
"Any issues with that attire? We might have to take it in some to account for your...petite physique." He says looking you up and down. and smiling warmly (not lasciviously). When he smiles, his face lights up, and you can tell he is not as gruff or fearsome as he lets on.
Reva's blush fades as she is told she has the job. "You've made a good choice, thank you." says Reva, giving the dwarf's hand a firm shake. A ghost of a smile creeps onto her face as she exits.
"That dwarf wasn't so bad, just trying to do his job. And good, guarding private rooms may be exactly what I want. I'll have some freedom to explore."
With a proud, stiff walk Reva exits the office and turns to the guard by the cage.
"I've been hired to guard and need to report to Hans or Beyar. Where can I find them?"
The man-at-arms at the cashier's counter gives you a lewd smile. "I can think o' sumthin' you's can guard right here, dearie. But if you're insistin' on Hand and Beyar, they'd be over there by the main door. Come on back if you wanna talk to a real man eh, lovely?" He snickers as he points out the two large bald, tattooed men who opened the main doors for you. They are supervising the movement of a large gaming table to it's spot on the floor.
"I admit it's a little skimpier than I'm used to wearing. But I'm always willing to try new things. If it can be fitted to me, I'm sure I can wear it well. Flirting comes naturally to me, see? Also, I have a few secrets too. I have some magical talents, and if your main bouncers have any trouble with a rowdy, I can help 'em out. I could show you, if you like, one of my not-very-harmful tricks. Um, might want to push that chair in, just in case."
If Feldin agrees to have Trig try it out on him, she will use Tremor to try to trip him. Trip attempt: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (19) + 5 = 24
Trig grins as Feldin feels the ground shake just around his feet and (probably) abruptly falls down. She helps him up quickly and apologizes for the spill, explaining that she would be more than happy to use this talent in protection of the Goblin if needed.
"That's inappropriate. Please show more decorum when the gamblers are here. If you do not, I will gut you." Reva's voice is soft and cold. "Thank you for the directions."
Not bothering to wait for a response, Reva crosses the hall, striding swiftly away from the guard for the main doors.
"My name is Reva, I've been hired to guard the kitchens and private room. What's expected of me?"
|Bú nìng yīng huā jié|
Though Bú arrives at the Gold Goblin lightly robed to cover & protect the garment she had commissioned from the dressmaker, her growing boredom while waiting in line leads to an inattentiveness toward maintaining it's concealment.
It soon becomes apparent that while the 'dress' does cover all those parts one considers necessary to prevent lewdness, the cut is otherwise most obviously not of any Avistani style any of the rest of you have seen before & exposes a degree of skin some of you didn't think possible without the aid of magic.
Basically, think one of those bare-midriff Sari's with the top that is a figure eight, with one of the loops around the neck & the other above the waist with the cris-cross just above the cleavage. The kind that look like the breasts should be falling out but somehow don't.
This is the problem with having no head for fashion...
It doesn't help that she has begun assuaging her boredom by dancing to a tune only she can hear, a tune that seems to grow both more active and more sinuous/sensual as time goes on.
Her hair seems to be dancing with her...
Riddleport was where Saphren lived for now, but would never be home. It was not the kind of place where you wanted to be. There was money to be made here, if you were willing to take risks; good money. But it was a cut throat town – at least the parts where he was welcome. He was doing his best to fit in. Rival guilds all claimed the areas he worked but he was still a free lancer, sometimes playing one guild off another. No way he could see fit to giving a cut to some clown in an office – that was a bigger racket than any he’d ever pulled.
Never thought I’d of stayed this long. he thought as me moved through the shadows. There was always one more job to do; one more opportunity or easy mark. And as long as his luck held he could not see walking away from a chance for easy money. So he was still here. He had a hard time with the idea that he had really already been here a year. It seemed like yesterday that he had stowed away on the ship leaving Chelix. No way he was going back there. Those lawful fools had long memories and would sooner feed him to one of their pet devils than ever forgive him the high crime of trying to live a little above his means.
Yea, he would stay a little longer yet. Some folks were nervous about the blot thing up in the sky but Saphren did not loose sleep over it. Let the cypermages and priests worry over it. he thought to himself. Besides its been good for business, bringing in all sorts of new blood into town; folks what don’t know what from what. Easy pickins. He did wonder how big it might get and was glad he could see in the dark as well as he could. Bigger could be good. he thought as he moved through the night. Could expand operatin hours…
What else was new as that whole "Beat the Devil and Take His Gold" gambling tournament they was gonna hold at the Gold Goblin Gaming Hall. Saphren had heard that dive was finally closing but he had one of the handbills himself. Likely one last death through before the owners threw in the towel and closed the doors for good. “Beat the Devil and Take His Gold” the flyer says. Beat the Devil? Haven’t those fools ever been to Cheliax? No one beats the Devil. Well Saphren would just hold onto his hard earned gold. The only time he gambled was when it was fixed, and, well, that was not really gabling was it? Yea, his gold would remain his, but the whole contest intreagued him. What type of customers might show? This was surely opportunity knocking for an enterprising young half orc if he just played his cards right. Yea, put on his armor and show off his great axe. Look like a tough and maybe some fool would hire him to “guard” their gold. That thought put a smile on his face.
Still up from his night's activities Saphren goes back to one of several safe rooms he maintains and freshens up. He bathes as best he can with the facilities present, puts on fresh clothing cleans up his armor, polishes his weapons, including removing the lamp black from his axe's blade, and tries to look as much like a well maintained body guard as possible. With that he goes to the Golden Goblin to case the joint.
Its only once there that he catches onto the idea that the Goblin itself is hiring. A chance to pull an inside job. he smiles to himself. That's for me. Now, what can I recall about this place and its new owner. He finds a place to watch the people coming to apply for work and think about what he can recall. Maybe I can recall something to help me know what to offer to get a better job with more authrority or somethin.
Knowledge Local: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (20) + 4 = 24