In one of Riddleport's best slums, a line stretches around the Gold Goblin Gambling Hall. Each person waits for the opening of the hall and the start of the tournament, which has been highly advertised and promises incredible riches to the winner. In fact, it promises that you'll be able to win the gold hoard of the Devil Himself.
Two double doors stand open as the head barmaid, Mirri Salassa, greets customers and ensures everyone's paid their entrance fee. Luckily, you remembered to buy your ticket earlier this week. An 8-foot tall gold goblin stands just below the gates, greeting the eager gamblers.
Mirri Salassa can be heard repeating to customers, "Welcome to the Gold Goblin, the hot spot for turning fortunes and winning wagers beneath the arch. Looking for the squarest games, the most honest dealers, the prettiest barmaids and hunkiest waiters anywhere in the port? Well, you found 'em, sugar! Hope so, 'cause tonight's your night. Belly up to a table and get to winnin'; we've got the gold to make your dreams glitter. Good drink, fine food and warm company's extra, but we got all that too - at prices so cheap we might as well be giving it away. So find a spot, sweetie, order a pint, and leave it all to us, 'cause here, even a goblin could win his weight in gold!" Her speech seems to vary based on whether she's talking to men or women, but little else changes.
The line is quite long and will take some time to filter through, giving plenty of time to really see the gambling hall. While it's finely fitted with imported wood and a large brass dome, years of tarnish have built on the metal and the wood is badly in need of refinishing. The Gold Goblin itself seems to dull and chipped.
Overhead, a great dark mark spills across the sky. The Blot, as the locals call it, appeared a few weeks ago. No one's quite sure of what it is, though plenty of groups are rushing to be the first to decipher its meaning. Rumor has it that the Cyphermages are gathering as many scholars as possible to unearth its mysteries. Even as their grand hall runs out of room, there seems to be no progress made. Most of Riddleport has come to accept it as part of daily life now, though it does make for good gossip among the gamblers and peddlers in this slum.
Diplomacy
Knowledge (Arcana)
Knowledge (Local)
Knowledge (Nature)
Perception
Finishing the remains of her cabbage roll, Areniel's bright blue eyes scanned the crowd, assessing various known thieves and con-artist before turning her gaze skyward. The blot had been a cause for rumors since it had appeared, roughly one month ago. When it had first appeared, she had hoped to have garnered new knowledge about it, to no avail. She had wasted a good week attempting to sweet talk her way into the Cyphermage's library, only to have door after door slammed in her face.
Whatever the mysterious casters knew, they weren't sharing with the half-Varisian. Around the docks, the blot wasn't the only thing on people's minds. Recently several Shoanti wavecutters had washed ashore with unusual claw marks on it. Most workers were quick to dismiss it as the work of an unusual bunyip migration. Nel wasn't so sure; the marks were not normal for the watery terrors, but unable to find any vessel to look for the wretched creature, she had been forced to let the mystery go.
To take up time, she had fallen into an old habit of gambling away her time and gold. That was why she was here; waiting on another gambling tournament to pass the time, and maybe earn some gold for her precious book. 'At least I'm not drunk and working at the Silken Veil', She thought bemusedly, watching as some of the members of the crowd surged forward to purchase tickets from Mirri.
Aviara, or "Vara" as she has named herself in the Port, tries to keep her gaze from the sky. Yet the darkness there has so often held her fascination over the last few weeks. The Blot only reminds her of her own shadows within. Everyone in the city has their guess, though on the streets, you only heard gossip. Aviara could only imagine what the wizards might think of it, or which of the many rumors she'd heard were even half-true. However, to her it was an omen. Every time she looked at darkness in the sky, she felt the serpents inside, gnawing on her roots...
Although a part of her wished to flee South, she had resolved to allow her fate be bound with the city, with those around her, this time.
Pulling her hood just a bit further over her golden tresses, she looks around the crowd with bright blue-green eyes. To get her mind off of darkness, she watches the throngs of people all about her.
She tries to guess at each person's purpose, and looks for anyone she recognizes from her brief time in Riddleport so far.
She notices an armored woman she thinks she has seen around the Gambling Hall before. Aviara is not sure how to greet a knight. From her home, there were jarls and skalds. So for the time being, she continues to observe the throng, while frequently returning her gaze to the armored woman.
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Mazra had heard about Riddleport, of course, but nothing in Sandpoint prepared him for this town. It was ten times the size of Sandpoint, and though the Old Light was impressive, it could not compare to the awesome wonder of the Cyphergate. He had been fortunate to hire on with Gaven Deverin, the owner of the Two Knight Brewery in Sandpoint. The old brewer made this run to Riddleport a couple of times a year now to supplement the weakening sales of his brew in Sandpoint. The ale wasn’t really that good, but Mazra didn’t care. It was the lure of the Gold Goblin’s tournament that interested Mazra. The fact that it was ale that was being transported in this Caravan was just a nice fringe benefit. Mazra accepted Deverin’s few silvers for riding along on the mostly uneventful journey, and bade the Old Brewer farewell just outside of town.
Mazra begin to wander Riddleport’s streets. The Cyphergate immediately became a fascination, and Mazra headed in that direction. But equally fascinating was this dark cloud that hung over the harbor. Mazra thought at first to himself, ”Oh great, rain”.
”Am I seeing things?”
”Now I only had one tankard of Deverin’s piss ale this morning”, Mazra thought to himself.
”I wonder why no one mentioned this ‘interesting’ feature?”
But shortly thereafter Cyphergates and dark clouds were not nearly as interesting to Mazra as the long line of people, and a Gold Goblin at least 8 feet in height.
”This must be the place”. Mazra immediately gets in line and begins to make small conversations with those nearby.
”So you call that thing The Blot”, Mazra responds to one shabbily dressed mark, that likely doesn’t have much coin to lose.
”That is some serious coin!”, Mazra thought to himself.
The short, gruff tien human leans against the building as he looks up at the blot. Two worn, exotic blades on his hip, and dressed in shabby, worn kikko armor. That thing sure has a lot of people going crazy. Doesn't bother me as long as it doesn't bother me.
Scratching his somewhat long and ill maintained hair, he takes a drink of water from a flask, swishes it around, and spits some of the morning taste out of his mouth and into the streets. Wiping some of the drool from his scraggly chin. He means to win at least enough to pay off some of his own gambling debts.
"Nakitsura ni hachi." he mutters at the blot in the sky.
Looking towards the woman yelling the information about the tournament he yells in broken Taldane, "Do you not serve drink? I have gold. Go get a drink!"
Vark was obviously very nervous as he waited in line. When he wasn't choking on the dust of larger men's boots, he was conjuring all manner of instrument, only to play or note or two before dismissing it, conjuring yet another instrument when his short attention span demanded a bit of music.
He fidgeted constantly, adjusting and readjusting his clothes. They had just arrived from the tailor the day before, and he was still working out the kinks in the freshly cut fabric, hoping to look his best for Saul Vancaskerkin. He wore a padded doublet of sky blue with deep crimson accents and matching leggings. His supple doeskin boots came up to his ankle and had a slight curl at the toe. His beret was also matching sky blue, featuring a prominent feather of royal violet. His olive skin was weathered and slightly wrinkled, a testament to the many years he had spent travelling the roads of Varisia. His salt and pepper hair curled out from under his hat in places, but his sharp beard was expertly trimmed. His sapphire eyes were slightly watery, but shone with a rekindled sense of purpose.
After he was satisfied with the feel of his new attire, he spent his time taking peeks around the knees, thighs, and backsides of the other gamblers, catching bits and pieces of other conversations being had, while also taking nervous glances up at the black omen in the sky. He had spent all of his money on his fresh appearance, so a job was his reason for entering the tournament. The first step of many on this new path his life had taken.
When he felt it would be polite to do so, Vark added his own thoughts to the general conversation, "Blakely's Shadow is what they're calling it, although I couldn't say why." Taking a moment to adjust his hat before continuing, "Eh... It first appeared a few months back, changes in size and even disappears, but always comes back. It's size is related to the tides, from what I've seen. It's at its largest during high tide and smallest at low. But that's not always the case. There's a bit of randomness to it, like a drunkard's jig."
"Either way, it's not natural, that's for sure! Birds and flying creatures avoid the air around it and the wind doesn't affect it. Gives me the heebs!"
'Vara' continues to observe the people around her. There were the Gold Goblin regulars, salty pirates, drunks, laughing young fools, working girls, and a greeting many shady rouges. Aviara clutches her belongings close.
The woman in armor continues to intrigue her, and then she sees another armored person toward the front of the line, shouting something about ale. She does not recognize the accent. He is far from home as well. Maybe further, she muses internally.
A foreign knight- another knight, here? She had not been to the Goblin often, though it had been a promising place to find work. She wasn't sure what was normal here, but two knights, not just common watchmen or thugs, in the same evening? That was something uncommon, to be sure.
What is happening this eve, me wonders?
Then Aviara hears the conversation near her. Someone was speaking about the Shadows. More rumors? She looks for the source of the voice, and shortly finds the gnome seemingly at the center of much conversation.
Knew not I better, I'd think this was the yuletide... Aviara thinks and then listens further, He senses it as well. He has seen how it moves in rhythm with the tides.
Aviara then finds herself speaking.
"You speak of the darkness, good gnome. You have a keen eye to have seen its changing. I add that it is like a wolf, circling the port, and chasing the moon, as you say," Aviari speaks with a fairly thick northern accent. Her tone is amiable, though dark as befits the topic. She regards the gnome with bright eyes, one which peers at him through a curtain of golden hair.
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Overhearing the well-dressed Gnome, Mazra comments, "I wouldn't say all flying creatures good Gnome. It looks like there is something flying within it. I wonder what manner of creature that could be?
Mazra is the name, by the way. I am just up from Sandpoint to try my luck against other fools like me; and win a pot full of gold."
Mirri beckons a man dressed like an incubi over, pointing to Tamiro. "Get that man a drink," she says. "Silver a pint."
The waiter comes over with a pewter tankard brimming with ale. A little spills out as he thrusts it into the samuri's hands. "One silver," he grunts, hand out expectantly.
A thin man wearing a reddish-brown cloak hovers near the others. "I know Blakely." he adds. "Local stargazer. Used to hang around the Cypher Lodge before heading south. Bit of an odd duck, but he noticed the Blot before the rest of us. Even flew up there once about a week after it appeared. Said it was icy cold...a strange cold, but other than that and the color, just like an ordinary cloud. Nothing flying around inside. Haven't seen him recently though. He supposedly headed off to Magnimar and Korvosa to do some more research."
Flipping a silver coin to the incubi he grunts brokenly, "Slow on service."
Lifting the drink he downs about half of it in a few seconds before sighing contentedly.
Listening in on the conversations going on around him, a colorful gnome catches his eye rather abruptly and probably exactly for that purpose in his dress. Making his way over he crouches down with his drink by the gnome and gives him a wolfish smile, his breath not at all pleasant.
"Colorful one, music perhaps. I heard it before."
Holding out a silver piece he says in a foreign language, "Anata no ongaku wa yoidesu!"
Vark stares blankly at the blonde girl, not really sure what to make of her cryptic comments, especially when draped in her thick accent. He simply smiles at her, after which he turns to address the dark-skinned man.
He returns Mazra's greeting with a flourishing bow, "Well met, kind sir. I am Varknarnost Kettlewidget, but you can rest your tongue by simply calling me Vark. Sandpoint, eh? A nice little berg. Good pies. Flying creatures in the darkness you say? Well, that can't be good. No, no, no, that can't be good at all." After looking solemn for a moment, he continues, "I'm less interested in the tournament and more interested in a job if we're being blunt about things. A fresh start is what I seek, and possibly an answer as to what is causing the calamity in the sky..." He quickly glances up, his gaze lingering on the blackness a moment before returning to meet the eyes of his newfound friends.
Finally, he address the thin cloaked man, "Ah, so someone seems to know a bit more about this Blakely fella, eh? It figures that he heads off just when things might turn a bit ugly in these parts. Protecting his own backside, maybe? Either way, I hope he returns with something useful, as word on the streets seems to be in short supply."
Vark ignores the drinking man's offer of coin, but nonetheless his face brightens as an accordion unexpectedly poofs into his hands, "A song, then!" he says with the characteristic flare one would expect from a bard of any talent, projecting his voice so that others in the crowd may hear.
"The blot, the blot, quite the eyesore,
Bodes ill for you and yours,
Taverns fill while wenches pour,
And mages break down your door..."
"Blakely flew up to examine the blot,
To reveal the dire plot,
Natural we know the darkness is not,
Other troubles are best forgot"
"Fear not fair folk, don't shed a tear,
Grim tidings all we hear,
Hold fast my friends and temper your fears,
For a savior will surely appear"
Tamiro straightens, and puts the coin away as the gnome obviously seems to shun it. Taking a deep drink and smiling, he taps his foot to the beat of the music. As the gnome finishes his song and Tamiro finishes his ale, he chucks the mug behind him and claps at the gnome.
"Excellent song, my friend! You have talent!"
Seeing the other human holding up a silver to order a drink, he follows, doing the same.
"Drink!" he yells bawdily.
As the incubi-costumed man hustles around, carrying tankards and trying to respond to orders as quickly as possible, the line moves forward until Nel finds herself at the door, which is covered in a variety of different symbols of luck, including butterflies, four-leaf clovers and crossed fingers.
Mirri takes her ticket, glances over Nel's appearance, gives a large smile, and says, "May Desna smile on you."
Up close, the 8-foot tall goblin statue is obviously pitted from its time guarding the entrance. Its smile is more of a smirk as it watches over the bustling crowd.
Just inside the main doors, two sultry beauties and a handsome man scantily clad with faux bat wings, horns and tails play the part of alluring succubi. All are employees of the Gold Goblin, and they cheerfully register contestants for the tournament and process entry fees. Armed guards not wearing costumes stand nearby to either side of an immense treasure chest into which each patron's entry fee is added. The guards are on hand to not only protect the money, but to prevent any overzealous admirers from trying to dare the infamous touch of an succubus.
Beyond the registration table is the hall's game floor. Dozen of gamblers, waitstaff dressed as succubi and incubi, and bouncers mill about the room, wandering amid tables offering various games while dealers shuffles cards, roll dice, and spin wheels. Moving through this throngh are a dozen more of barely clad, bat-winged waitstaff serving drink and batting coal-black eyelashes flirtatiously for tips. In the center of the chamber is a short podium on atop which sits a massive gold chest affixed to the floor by similarly gaudy chains. On either side of the chest stands a bare-chested bouncer in the exotic garb of some foreign sultan's court. Each stands with muscled arms crossed over his chest and with a naked scimitar of prodigious size tucked through his waistband. High above them, from the hall's cloth-draped ceiling, hangs a brass birdcage within which crouches a small bat-winged, point-tailed devilish creature that sulks as it gazes over the room and occasionally rattles the bars threateningly.
"Sore wa hajimaru!" Tomiro exclaims with a grin as the line begins moving into the Golden Goblin.
Looking back to the gnome and the other individuals around him he gives a wolfish grin, "Kōunwoinoru, my friends. Desna may smile."
Turning he follows the line of people into the Golden Goblin, giving his ticket up at the door and rubbing his hands together as he gets onto the floor.
Giving a silver to one of the servers he grabs whatever drink they were carrying and looks around. He sees a woman in armor, to him looking out of place, and made sure to follow to wherever she chose to game.
"jaku niku kyō shoku" he mutters to himself with a grin.
It was time to make a fortune!
Nodding in recognition of Mirri, Nel reaches out to touch the golden goblin, more out of habit than any form of superstition. Wandering into the gambling hall, she mills her way through the crowd to offer a short prayer to Desna before taking a seat at one of the more opened tables.
As she sits, she grabs a drink from one of the male servers and drops a silver and two copper pieces into his hand. Sipping the drink as more people fill the room, the tall half elf relaxes into her chair, attempting to make herself appear to be shorter than her six foot frame would hint at.
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Mazra nods in improvement by the way the Samurai looking fellow downs his ale.
The strange winged waiter finally brings Mazra a tankard of ale. Mazra gives him his silver coin, and holding a finger up in a gesture to "wait", he unclips his own tankard from his belt, then slowly and carefully transfers the contents to his own stein making sure to get every frothy drop. Holding both tankards in one hand, Mazra reaches for another silver piece from his pouch belt, drops it into the empty tankard and hands it over to the winged servant.
The line begins to move. Mazra Looking at Vark and the Samurai toast, "May Cayden Cailean keep your tankards full," and then summarily empties his stein. The ale was smooth with a nice fruity flavor, far better than that stuff the Two Knight Brewery refers to as ale.
Mazra bends down to whisper to Vark,
As Mazra passes the 8 foot tall statue of the Golden Goblin, , he stares at it in wonder.
When he enters the Golden Goblin he sees two exotic winged ladies. He can't help but stare. He never saw anything quite like this in Sandpoint. There weren't many Tieflings, and truly no Succubi. It was then that it hit him, that maybe, just maybe, he was in over his head being here. This was way above the casual card games where he typically cleaned out the Sandpoint Town Guard. But he shrugged off such notions and followed Vark, the Samurai and the others around him into the hall.
Mazra's head was on swivel looking at all the sights and people.
Vark thanks the armored man for the compliment before holding aloft an imaginary tankard of ale as he toasts with the two men.
He listens intently as Mazra whispers in his ear. "Hmm, I'd be lying if I said you hadn't piqued my interest... Although, I've recently come out of a very long period of solitude and I'm not sure I'm in the right mind for any adventuring just yet. A job would most likely be a more steady, and less life-threatening, source of income, wouldn't you agree?" He says as a warm smile spreads across his weathered face. "Although that blot is most unsettling, to be sure. Let us see how the cards fall for us on this fine day, shall we? If Dezna smiles on us, one of us will be the richest man in town, come sundown!"
As Vark passes the goblin statue, his brow furrows as he notices it is in fact made of bronze, as opposed to gold. Maybe this place isn't all it's cracked up to be after all. Well, at least I have this job offer as a nice backup plan!
As Vark crests the gaudily adorned doors, he is no less than taken aback by the sights inside the gambling hall. From the garish décor to the bat-winged servants and the exotic brutes guarding the prize, he struggled to make sense of it all. The air seemed to be rapidly leaving his lungs and his head had begun to spin. Only when his eyes catch the bust of Desna towards the back of room, does he seem calm somewhat, taking a moment to gather his wits about him, before following the others to a rapidly filling table.
Too much. This is just too much for an old soul like me. I can't imagine working in a place like this. I wouldn't last a day! I think I might talk to Mazra about that job no matter the results of the tournament. Apparently I am feeling a touch of wanderlust...
As twilight darkens the windows, several of the gamehall employees enter from the back room, each carrying a torch shaped like a pitchfork skewering burning heads made of straw and cloths to light several large braziers, giving the hall an even more infernal hue. A hush falls over the crowd as a short man climbs to a central podium, and several over employees hand out contracts for the tournament-goers to sign in order to win the main prizes.
I understand that my soul will be placed on deposit in the Hell's deepest pit of Nessus. Furthermore, I understand that all winnings shall be cataloged in concordances of souls, to be represented by teeth, eyes and hearts of the damned. By participation in the gambling tournament and beginning the first pit of Avernus, my winnings shall earn my way deeper through the Hells on the following schedule:
Dis - 1 Gold Eye
Erebus - 3 Gold Eyes and a Badge of Dis
Phegethon - 5 gold Eyes and a Badge of Erebus
Stygia - 10 Gold Eyes and a Badge of Phegethon
Malbolge - 25 Gold Eyes and a Badge of Stygia
Cocytus - 50 Gold Eyes and a Badge of Malbolge
Caina - 75 Gold Eyes and a Badge of Cocytus
Nessus - 100 Gold Eyes and a Badge of Caina
I understand that if I should lose my stakes in the tournament, I shall receive the Devil's Mark and my should shall be cast upon the rocks on the shore of the River Styx.
I understand that if I elect to cash in my winnings before reaching the Pit of Nessus, I shall forfeit my soul and 50% of the cash value of my winnings for said early departure.
If I am the first player to reach Nessus, then I am granted the redemption of my soul and the right to cheat the devil and take his gold in addition to collecting my winnings. In such circumstances, all other players shall receive the Devil's Mark and forfeit their souls.
This I do swear.
Witnessed by: Old Scratch
The man, Saul Vancaskerkin, is accompanied by one of the succubi and an incubi as he stands before the gold, chain-shrouded chest. He wears a formal suit and his thinning black hair is slicked back. His left arm ends in a stump just above the wrist and affixed to is is a bronze cap from which protrudes and oddly-shaped key. This is the owner of Gold Goblin and the host of the tournament.
He bows beofre the crowds, clears his voice, and says, "Welcome, one and all, to the Gold Goblin Gambling Hall and your chance to cheat the Devil and win back not only your soul but all of his gold as well." He says this last as he pats the large chest before which he stands. "I hope you found your reception by the Devil's lovely princes and princesses suitably entertaining."
This is met by a general murmur of laughter and a few catcalls.
"Let's take this moment to thank Old Scratch and himself for attending this event. Not only did he loan us these lovely, dark angels, but he also emptied the deepest vaults of Hell itself to provide the gold for this tournament."
Saul gestures to the creature in the birdcage above. Old Scratch bangs the cage bars, spits down at the crowd and howls wildly.
The crowd guffaws and a few even clap. After a moment, Vancaskerkin continues.
"Of course, he plans on replacing what he loses in gold with the souls of those of you who don't win. The tournament rules are quite simple - as you play, you'll be able to bribe your way out of the current Hell you're trapped in, working your way down deeper until you get to Old Scratch's treasury. currently, all of you are Old Scratch's prisoners in the first of the Hells, Avernus. If you want to work your way down to the ninth circle, you'll need to win games.
Each time you win, you'll be awarded a gold eye. If you come in second, you'll get a silver tooth. And third place wins a copper heart. These bits of flesh and bone are what the devils us in Hell for currency, and they're what you'll need to in order to bribe you way in to the next layer of hell. The first player to win a game after reaching Nessus not only keeps his winnings for that game, but also earns back his soul and then ten thousand silver coins that the Devil put up for the tournament. You can, of course, decide to cash out your winnings at any time you want, but if you do, or if you run out of money entirely... Well, that means Old Scratch gets you."
Vancaskerin grins evilly and the caged imp cuts loose with another profane tirade. "And that earns you the Devil's Mark and an escort out of the game hall until the tournament is over. What, you ask, exactly is this Devil's Mark? Well, it's something too utterly horrible to even contemplate. The forfeiture of your very soul, it is. But I suppose I can show you what it is - gods know I deserve the Devil's Mark. In fact, better make it two!"
With that, the succubi and incubi accompanying him lean over and each firmly plants a kiss on Saul's cheek with their ruby-red lips. When they pull away, their lip rouge has left clearly visibly prints in the same shocking red on his cheeks. Saul beams as he cries out, "The Devil's Mark, everyone!", which is greeted by a flurry of shouts, catcalls and hoots. "Now, let's cheat the Devil and take his gold!, which prompts one more rabid flurry from the imprisoned fiend above and, with that, the tournament begins.
Each player has 100 dull red chips to start with, each carved with a crude heart shape. Anyone can purchase additional chips at the following prices:
Copper Heart - Dull red - 1 cp
Silver Tooth - Dull grey - 1 sp
Gold Eye - Dull gold - 1 gp
The 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.
Spaces on the wheel:
1. Appearance
2. Bloodline
3. Demeanor/Presence
4. Hygiene
5. Skill
6. Clothes/Equipment
7. Body
8. Race
9. Courage
10. Profession
11. Brains
12. Something Nice
DC 1-9 Major Loss - Lose whole stake
DC 10 Loss - Lose 50% of stake
DC 12 Minor Loss - Lose 20% of stake
DC 14 Break even - Regain stake
DC 16 Minor Win - Regain stake + 20%
DC 18 Win - Regain stake + 50%
DC 20 Big Win - Regain stake + 100%
DC 22 Jackpot! - Regain stake + 120%. For every 2 points the result exceeds DC 22, the additional win increases by 20%
Pluck glides into the Gold Goblin while looking its namesake up and down. Ah Saul. Still up to the same old trickery. I wonder what games you have planned for everyone inside. With a wink, he blows a kiss at a pretty succubus but hurries on before the guards can take notice.
Once inside, the half-elf buys a drink from a pretty waitress, tipping her nicely and then spends a little time looking around the newly decorated Goblin before Saul takes the stage. Unsure of the contract, Pluck fakes another drink before settling in to hear the spiel of the owner.
Nel rolls her eyes at the fake infernal contract, signing her real name to ensure that Saul doesn't try to renege on the deal if she should win. Approaching the nearest incubus, Nel trades the contract for the coffer of the red chips. She approaches the ghoulette table and places down 15 coins on the courage slot. "Fifteen hearts on courage. I'm feeling lucky."
Vark glances over the fake contract, a bewildered look dawning on his face. He reluctantly signs it.
All this bawdy decor and showmanship, what is this man trying to prove? The only deal this contract has sealed is the fact that Varknarnost Kettlewidget will most certainly not be seeking employment at this ludicrous establishment!
Feeling deflated, he wasn't interested in winning this tournament in the least. He decided to simply mimic the actions of the other players at the table.
"Now let me see... Fifteen hearts on..." he glances down at himself for a moment, "Clothes. Yes, that sounds good."
"Vara" follows the flow of people into the casino, taking in the sights around her, from the golden goblin to all the commotion around the goblin tables. She enjoys listening to others around her talk.
She follows the crowd into the main hall. The gaudy outfits make her blush for a moment, even though she has seen them before. After only a few weeks, the atmosphere here remains strange to her. What an odd place for me to end up, seeking redemption as I am. Though maybe not, for I am also lost.
The place looked already in full swing; however, had she wished for work, she probably should have come earlier like on previous eves. Might as well enjoy myself, and see what can be gained from the tournament.
She trades a silver for a good drink from one of the serving men, and eyes the contract with an arched brow. I am already marked by another god... She signs a false name, Ivara, removed once even from her usual call name just to be sure there is suitable difference.
The ghoul's eyes latches on Nel and says, "You beslubbering bladder, do you sleep in a barn?" before falling silent.
The Croupier dressed as an incubus smiles and flexes his muscles a little. "Bad luck, wanna try again?"
The succubus-costumed waitress smiles at Pluck before cooing, "Come on, big boy. Do you want to join me in a game?"
Frowning at the change in her luck, Nel slams down ten tokens, still on courage. "Ten on courage. Just because I hang out with a horse doesn't mean that I sleep with it."
Vara watches the ghoulette wheel spinning, and tries to decide where best to place her bet. Tis a matter of fate, so something I believe in...
"I've been told that my bloodline is lucky. Let's see if this is true," she says shrugging.
Aviara places 10 tokens on bloodline.
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Now that the ice has been broken, Mazra looks around the room for something more to his liking. He sees an open seat at a card table.
Along the way, Mazra sees the Succubus with a tray of drinks. He pulls out a Cheliaxian minted gold piece, thinking to himself, "how appropriate", and exchanges it for 8 silver pieces and a tankard of ale, which again he carefully transfers the contents to his own stein. He takes a big gulp, smiles and sits at the card table.
He stakes 10 dull reds in the next set of hands:
Mazra collects back 12 dull reds, thinking "That's more like it", but also thinking that this will be far more challenging than the Sandpoint Town Guard.
Pluck winks at the waitress, "Mmmm. Not sure what game you're suggesting. Perhaps some cards now and something else later. I think I see a seat right over here. You'll be back I'm sure?" Pluck sits down near the young man with the black hair that looks like he might herald from one of the smaller towns down the coast. Wonder if the Sczarni have taught him a thing or two or if he's the rube he appears to be. Pluck stakes a dull gold only to see the young man take the pot, chuckling ruefully at getting played by the 'rube.'
-1 gp
100 dull red chips
Dungo's eyes catch on Vara and screams out, "How could you think you'd hide that bloodline from me, you half-wit child of a bear?"
The croupier hands ten dull silver chips to Vara.
Tamiro glances over the contract and shrugs with a chuckle, "Take my soul. Little use for it!"
After signing the contract he rejoins the floor, and quickly sees the groups around the heave table. "Kore wa, gēmu no watashi no yōna monodesu!"
"Make the way!" he bawls as he makes room for himself at the heave table and throws down 10 of his chips with a confident grin.
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Mazra was very good at sensing which of Sandpoint’s Town Guard had a good hand or was bluffing; because of this Mazra won more often than he lost. They were mere Puppies to him. But at this table he struggled to read the other players. Here Mazra was the Puppy playing against Professional Gamblers.
Mazra noticed a thin bearded man chuckle as he gathered his winnings. ”Yes, sometimes it is better to be lucky than good,” Mazra says looking at the thin man. Mazra is the name. I am from Sandpoint. I may be a bit over my head here,” as Mazra offers a sad smile realizing a certain truth in his statement.
Mazra stakes another 10 dull red chips for the next hand.
"Better lucky than good," Mazra shakes his head as he gathers his winnings again.
"Don't sell yourself short Mazra. I'm Pluck. Riddleport is home. Look out for Saul. They say he always has some scheme going. Might want to get out while you're ahead." Seeing the hot streak Mazra is on, Pluck backs off and puts 30 dull red chips in this time.
"You seem to have the knack for it Mazra. Not my day."
-1 gp
85 dull red chips
Rum
Type ingested; Addiction minor, Fortitude DC 5 Price 2 sp
Effects +1d4 alchemical bonus to Charisma and fatigued for 1d8 hours
Damage 1d3 Con
1 gp to play. 1d8 indviduals will join in. Winner wins half the pot.
As other individuals sat down around him, Tamiro watched the meager pot with growing annoyance. This brought no profit. With a angry growl he stands and moves to the cards table, taking a seat by a man he noticed outside with the gnome, who seemed to just do well for himself.
"Deal me in." Tamiro grunts in broken Taldane.
"Might the Desna smile."
Tossinging in several chips.
Leaning over to the man he saw outside he grins, "The Lady of Lucks, she smiles."
"Vara" regards Dungo with an arched brow, "Well, at least there is a silver lining to your barbed words," she says with a sly smirk, collecting the dull silver tokens. Though there be more truth to what he says than he could know... at least the bear part... She thinks.
"One success proves little. Let us see if fortune holds."
Vara places 5 dull silvers and 5 dull reds on 'bloodline' for the next spin.
Frowning heavily, Nel sighs and leaves the ghoulette table, as clearly Desna has abandoned her with luck in this venture. Making her way over to a card table, Nel tests the water with a bet of five dull red chips.
After a few quick hands, Nel smiles as she manages to break even.
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"Please to meet you Pluck. You play well. Your fortunes are sure to change," Mazra says knowing that every hand he plays with professionals was an opportunity to learn. The idea of becoming a Professional Gambler himself crosses his mind. The more he thought about it, the more amused he became, as this is one of the few professions where ale often flows freely around it. "It is a pursuit that would make Cayden Cailean proud,' Mazra thinks to himself.
Mazra was pleased to see the warrior that was earlier chatting outside with Vark sit next to him at the table. "Come join us. I am Mazra from Sandpoint," he greets himself. The thought of getting a group together to go after that 500 pieces of gold reward offered by the Overlord crosses his mind. Even more so when another warrior dressed also in Scale Armor joins the table. Mazra rises slightly from his seat as the formidable looking woman sits. Mazra introduces himself to the new attendee.
Mazra stakes another 10 dull red chips in the next set of hands:
"Fortune is truly smiling today," as Mazra wins with a very lucky hand over doubling his stake.
Tamiro raises an eye brow at the man.
"Gaijin...I am not Pluck." he says somewhat confusedly.
"You call me Tamiro." he says finally grinning and bowing his head to Mazra, then seeing the man pull in an astounding hand he roars with a laugh, "Ah! You have much of Desna!"
Looking over to see the armored woman sitting, he gives her a toothy grin, "Welcome! With that, you only go up."
Picking up his next hand he throws in 10 more chips.
He roars in victory pulling in his chips from the table. "Ha ha! Watashi wa katsu! This I will win!"
Nodding in recognition at the other Varisian, Nel offers him a crooked smile, "Well met. Name's Nel." Extending a hand to Mazra, Nel shoots a side ways glance at the other warrior, carefully studying the samurai.
"Well hopefully. I couldn't imagine this getting any worse." Placing 5 chips down and picking up her cards, her smile breaks into a full grin. It looks like her luck was back!
Pulling back in her initial bet, plus six dull coins, she places one back into her coin purse. "So, have you all been in Riddleport long?" Cautiously trying the water for conversation, she hopes that she can lure the rest of the table into idle chit-chat and win big again.
The hooded man looks up at Tamiro and chuckles, "No, you're definitely not Pluck. Bu I am. Greetings Tamiro...Nel. Maybe you'll change my luck with your own." Pluck throws in fifty of his red chips and nods to the croupier to deal him in for another hand.
"Ah, much better, you and the touch of Desna are turning things around."
-1 gp
95 dull red chips
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”Well met, indeed,” Mazra shakes Nel’s hand with a hearty Varisian handshake. ”This is my first time in Riddleport. I must admit that I like it. It fits my yearnings more than sleepy Sandpoint.”
Then looking at the Samurai, ”Good hand Tamiro! By the way, what is this ‘gaijin’ you speak of? I am not familiar with that word,” Mazra says with a broad smile.
Mazra bets 10 more dull red chips on the next hand:
Mazra loses 2 dull red chip.
Mazra looks at Pluck, "You play well indeed, sir. I could learn much from you."
Pluck winks at Mazra, "He means outsiders Mazra. Ironically, it is Tamiro who is furthest from home. Looks like you should have played for the pairs instead of going for the run Mazra. Common mistake. Now that we've got you, Tamiro and Nel all here to bring me luck things will turn for good." Pluck nods to the dealer again and draws his cards close as they fall into the table before pushing another fifty of his dull red chips into the center of the table. "Any of you know Saul well or are you all here just to take his gold?"
"Mmmm, yes. Much better."
-1 gp
145 dull red chips
As you continue to gamble with varying amounts of luck, you notice a man reading off a scroll.
A blinding explosion of fireworks fills the room, causing a cry of alarm and pain from the attendees as the light blinds them.
Blindness lasts: rounds
A woman then begins to orate loudly, "All right, folks! Drop to the ground and don't try anything stupid - we might let you live!"
Four thuggish-looking men begin to move towards the guards.
AG3
Vara
AT
Pluck
Old Scratch
GGB
AG2
Nel
TB
Vark
AG1
AG2
Tamiro
Mazra
Map of the room with locations
Vara holds her hands behind her back as she uses her wooden fist ability to grow thorns on her knuckles, doing all she can to keep a low profile. Her head is slightly bowed, still given her a full view of the room and a wider peripheral vision.
Vara holds her move action until more things develop.