Once a secret pirate haven, Riddleport has grown over the last three centuries into a port city in its own right. Although the site was partially chosen for ease of defense, the original settlers picked the site as much for its singular Thassilonian monument: the mysterious and intriguing arch known as the Cyphergate. While roads from the east and north exist, they are not well-maintained the most notable access to the city is its harbor. No one who sails into Riddleport by sea can avoid passing beneath the Cyphergate. Many sailors have favorite private signs or rituals for good luck they perform as their ships pass under the storied arch, for one can never be too careful around Varisia’s storied monuments.
Yet while Riddleport has grown into a proper city, it remains true to its roots—you can get rich quick in Riddleport if you’ve got skill and a bit of luck, though for every Riddleport success story there are a dozen nameless bodies buried in potters’ fields or tossed to the hungry denizens of the sea.
Riddleport today bears an air of legitimacy that eluded it in earlier times when it was little more than a haven for those seeking shelter but not necessarily law. This legitimacy arises from a growing influx of scholars and experts, for of all Varisia’s monuments, the Cyphergate may be the best preserved. It’s certainly one of the most enigmatic. An entire tradition of arcane study has risen in the Cyphergate’s shadow—the growing Order of Cyphers has become one of Riddleport’s most powerful factions— quite the feat in a settlement known for traditional values of piracy and bullying. This newest faction of Riddleport’s already complicated administration may just be what it takes to force the growing city into a stable government—or it may be the final load that causes it all to come crumbling down.
Strange days are afoot in Riddleport as an inexplicable shadow hovers in the sky over the city, attracting scholars and mystics to divine its meaning. Yet for most of Riddleport’s citizens, the shadow’s significance, known locally as “The Blot,” is fleeting.
Life continues on the streets of Riddleport, and at a local game tournament held at the Gold Goblin Gambling Hall, a grand tournament is being held. Citizens from every class and corner of the city are flocking to the Gold Goblin this evening, in hopes that the hall's resurrection might provide grand entertainment – and perhaps wealth.
Dotting
Dot dot.
Augrim Whyrwharf enters the Gold Goblin, and looks around in a combination of excitement and disgust. While the dwarf gazes about, his hands move to his money pouch, which he jiggles softly, causing all too few coins to clink together, making their soft, metallic music.
"This, or the Gas Forges," he mutters under his breath to nobody in particular as he spots the sign-up table and makes his way over.
He plunks a gold coin down on the table and announces, "Augrim Whyrwharf to enter the game."
Although it stands in a much-neglected neighborhood and the building itself has long stood dormant and empty, the Gold Goblin stands out with its polished brass dome and refurbished facade. The glass panes of the many windows are frothed with bubbles and imperfections, but they are wiped clean of the grime that adorns the streets and warehouses surrounding it. Crowds of participants and spectators mill about on the street or file together through the main doors to sign up for the tournament. Overseeing this gathering is a larger-than-life-size statue of a goblin, apparently cast in glittering gold, that stands atop the entry stairs with a smirking expression of satisfaction on its face, as if personally enjoying the crowds that shuffle past it into the doorway beneath the gambling hall’s gilded dome.
Just inside the main doors, two sultry beauties scantily clad and wearing faux bat wings, devil horns, and tails play the part of alluring succubi. Both are employees of the Gold Goblin, and they cheerfully register contestants for the tournament and process entry fees. Armed guards 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 a succubus.
He plunks a gold coin down on the table and announces, "Augrim Whyrwharf to enter the game."
One of the beautiful demoness at the table pulls a small scroll from among many in a large cauldron, and hands it to Augrim with a wink.
"That will be 10 silver pieces for the entry fee... oh, and your soul, of course," she giggles wickedly.I understand that my soul will be placed on deposit in the Hells’ deepest pit of Nessus. Furthermore, I understand that all winnings shall be catalogued in concordance of souls, to be represented by teeth, eyes, and hearts of the damned. By participating in the gambling tournament and beginning in 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
Phlegethon—5 gold eyes and a Badge of Erebus
Stygia—10 gold eyes and a Badge of Phlegethon
Malebolge—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 stake in the tournament I shall receive the Devil’s Mark and my soul 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 a circumstance, all other players shall receive the Devil’s Mark and forfeit their souls.
This is I do swear.
Witnessed by: Old Scratch
Augrim chokes as he reads this. "This is all just part of the fun, right?"
"Right?"
Zaiel squeezes her way through the crowd to join the tournament-hopefuls at the end of the line. She moves with the shuffling throng up the entry stairs, glancing at the gilt goblin, and brushes a hand across her neck, as if rubbing her throat.
She smiles at the nearest mock-succubus, a gold coin in hand. "Good evening, miss. I'd like to enter the tournament." She lightly taps the butt of her glaive upon the floor. "Do I need to register my weapon, or may I hold on to it? I don't wish to cause trouble; I am new to Riddleport, by way of Magnimar, and know not the customs of this city."
Another scantily clad girl rolls her eyes as she takes the coin and passes Zaiel a scroll.
"This being Riddleport, there is no ban on armor or weapons—just an unspoken agreement to not cause problems in a public space. If you cause trouble at the tournament, you get the Devil's Mark, and your soul is forfeit - look lady, it's all in the scroll."
Augrim chokes as he reads this. "This is all just part of the fun, right?"
"Right?"
"Hey, what's life without risk?" The girl winks at Augrim and leans closer to whisper, "It's just explanation of the rules and fees - I hear there isn't much profit in souls, these days!"
Another scantily clad girl rolls her eyes as she takes the coin and passes Zaiel a scroll.
"This being Riddleport, there is no ban on armor or weapons—just an unspoken agreement to not cause problems in a public space. If you cause trouble, you get the Devil's Mark, and your soul is forfeit - look lady, it's all in the scroll."
Zaiel nods, smiling. She looks down at the scroll after giving the girl a final, lingering glance.
Grimara looks at the goblin statue and rolls her eyes. "I must be really desperate," she mutters as she moves up the stairs to the faux succubi.
She fishes out a gold coin, but is slow about handing it over. "This better be worth it," she says to the nearest succubus, then gives her the coin.
"This better be worth it," she says to the nearest succubus, then gives her the coin.
"Um... good luck?" the girl says nervously, as she glances around to assure herself that the bouncers are still nearby.
"From your lips to Asmodeus' ears, apparently," the burly dwarf mutters beside the grim-faced half orc. Augrim signs the "contract" and hands over his coin.
"I suspect most of us are desperate to come to something like this," he adds.
One of the beautiful demoness at the table pulls a small scroll from among many in a large cauldron, and hands it to Augrim with a wink.
"That will be 10 silver pieces for the entry fee... oh, and your soul, of course," she giggles wickedly.** spoiler omitted **...
"Thanks." Grim snatches the scroll away from the girl and stuffs it away without reading it. "Don't look so nervous," she says to the girl. "You look good in that get-up. The men'll love you as long as you look confident in it."
Without a further word, and without waiting for any response from the girl, she heads into the Gold Goblin.
I understand that my soul will be placed on deposit in the Hells’ deepest pit of Nessus. Furthermore, I understand that all winnings shall be catalogued in concordance of souls, to be represented by teeth, eyes, and hearts of the damned. By participating in the gambling tournament and beginning in 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
Phlegethon—5 gold eyes and a Badge of Erebus
Stygia—10 gold eyes and a Badge of Phlegethon
Malebolge—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 stake in the tournament I shall receive the Devil’s Mark and my soul 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 a circumstance, all other players shall receive the Devil’s Mark and forfeit their souls.
This is I do swear.
Witnessed by: Old Scratch
For the most part, the girls take the signed scrolls and place them into a large ornate chest. Quite a few patrons move off before opening their scrolls, and no one raises a fuss. There are still quite a few people trying to get inside, and the 'succubi' seem more intent on collecting coin than the papers.
After signing the "contract", Zaiel steps into the main hall. She curiously observes the activities within, looking for a bar of some sort; some ale or wine might help her relax in this den of iniquity.
As Arianna pays her coin and enters the hall, she scans the scroll and chuckles to herself "Nice touch" she thinks, then looking at the faux devils in their costumes "Gaudy" then looking at some of the old fools staring at them ", but effective. They'll never know what hit them until they're broke"
Looking around the hall Arianna wonders if the owner can pull this off this wouldn't be such a bad place to earn some coin dancing and ...other things.
Beyond the registration table is the hall’s game floor. Dozens of gamblers, waitresses dressed as succubi, and bouncers mill about the room, wandering amid tables offering various games while dealers shuffle cards, roll dice, and spin wheels. Moving through this throng are a dozen more of the barely clad, bat-winged vixens serving drinks and batting coal-black eyelashes flirtatiously for tips. In the center of the chamber is a short podium atop which sits a massive gold chest affixed to the floor by similarly gaudy chains. On either side of it 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, pointy-tailed devilish creature that sulks as it gazes over the room and occasionally rattles the bars and hisses at the patrons threateningly.
The Gold Goblin’s main hall is a very large room, and there are more than a dozen different gaming tables available for contestants to wager, win, and lose. For much of the afternoon, as the registration process continues, the gathering crowd spends time playing cards and other non-sanction games, drinking, or otherwise carousing. By the time dusk approaches and the tournament gears up to begin, there are more than a hundred participants in attendance.
As the windows begin darkening with twilight, several gamehall employees enter, carrying torches shaped like pitchforks skewering burning heads made of straw and cloth to light several large braziers, giving the hall a more infernal hue. A hush falls over the gathered crowd as a short man climbs to the central podium, accompanied by two gorgeous “succubi,” and stands before the gold, chain-shrouded chest there with a demoness on either side. 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 it is a bronze cap from which protrudes an oddly shaped overly large key. This is Saul Vancaskerkin, the owner of the Gold Goblin and host of the tournament. He bows dramatically before the crowd and clears his throat before speaking.
“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 temptresses suitably entertaining!” This is met by a general murmur of laughter and a few catcalls.
“Let’s take this moment to thank Old Scratch 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!”
With this, Saul directs the crowd’s attention up to the imp in the birdcage. At the sudden attention, Old Scratch flies into a flurry of rage, banging the cage bars, spitting, howling, and screaming vile epithets in Infernal at all assembled. His theatrics are received with guffaws and even a smattering of applause. As the crowd dies down, 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 earn more chips. And with those chips, 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 need to win games. Each time you win, you’ll be awarded a golden 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 use in Hell for currency, and they’re what you’ll need to pay in order to bribe your way into 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 the ten thousand silver coins that the Devil put up for this 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!”
Vancaskerkin 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 more than deserve the Devil’s Mark. In fact, better make it two, girls!” With that, the two succubi accompanying him lean over and each firmly plants a kiss on Saul’s cheek with her ruby-red lips. When they pull away, their lip rouge has left clearly visible 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!
There are 3 games you can play, if you wish - Bounder, Ghoulette, and Quicksilver.
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.
Odds: The house edge in this game is 18% without any doubling. A player over time will get about 7/17 of his money back. Extreme points (1, 2, 19 and 20) are as good as 47.5%, so doubling is wiser there (but still not wise).
Ghoulette is a roulettelike game invented by a strange rogue named Lixy Parmenter. She got the idea for the game after making an unusual discovery while robbing a grave—she found the decapitated head of Dungo the Savage. Dungo was a disillusioned bard and priest of Calistria known far and wide for his withering insults, capable of reducing the most confident lord to a shaking mass. Things did not end swimmingly for Dungo, as he was fatally munched by a ghoul. Before he succumbed to ghoul fever, he spat out one last curse: that the citizens of Riddleport would be haunted by his sharp tongue for all time. Unfortunately, his curse attracted Calistria’s attention, who was at the time in a particularly playful mood. She answered Dungo’s curse by transforming his head into a magic item. (The ghouls ate the rest of him.) Dungo retains a vestigial ability to hurl insults, even with the lack of lungs (or the need to breathe, for that matter). Lixy Parmenter found his insults to be rather amusing, and decided to turn the strange talking head into a gambling game. She mounted Dungo on a wheel and surrounded it with various categories, and players bet on the category that his head will face after each spin.
- 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”
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.
Odds: The house edge in this game is 8.33%. Over time, a player earns back 11/12 of his money, or very slightly less if he bets in anything other than increments of 10 due to rounding down on “something nice.”
Quicksilver is a very fast-paced dice game, where up to six players roll against a house dealer. Spectators can lay stakes on the which player will win or place in the top three, much like a horse or dog race.
Charisma or Profession: Gambler check vs. DC
Check DC Result
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 plus 20%.
DC 18 Win: Regain stake plus 50%.
DC 20 Big Win: Regain stake plus 100%.
DC 22 Jackpot!: Regain stake plus 100%. For each 2 points by which your result exceeds DC 22, increase the additional win by another 20% (for example, DC 24 pays 120%, DC 26 pays 140%, and so on).
Augrim takes his chances at Quicksilver, betting 1 sp each time.
Play 1: Up 1sp
Play 2: Back even
Play 3: Up 5cp
Play 4: Down 5cp
Play 5: Down 1.5 sp
That's about as much as he can take to start out. He then spends some time milling about watching what others are playing and how they fare.
Grim passes by the Ghoulette table, but turns her nose up at it. "Gross," she mutters.
She sits down at the Quicksilver table near Augrim and joins in there.
She will bet a sp to start.
Play 1: Loses 5 cp.
She scowls, but tries again, betting 1 sp.
Play 2: Wins 1 sp.
"Well, that was a bit better," she mutters and tries one more time, betting 1 sp again.
Play 3: Wins 1 sp.
"I think I'm getting the hang of this."
Grim passes by the Ghoulette table, but turns her nose up at it. "Gross," she mutters.
She sits down at the Quicksilver table near Augrim and joins in there.
She will bet a sp to start.
Play 1: 1d20 + 1 Loses 5 cp.
She scowls, but tries again, betting 1 sp.
Play 2: 1d20 + 1 Wins 1 sp.
"Well, that was a bit better," she mutters and tries one more time, betting 1 sp again.
Play 3: 1d20 + 1 Wins 1 sp.
"I think I'm getting the hang of this."
Augrim laughs ruefully. "Perhaps I should get you to play for me."
Since it looks like he'll have company, he sits back down and bets a few more times.
He loses 5 cp.
"See, the key is knowing the right moment, when your luck has gotten so bad, that probability states that you have to get a good result, then you bet big."
He bets a gold piece.
"Guess that wasn't the right moment."
Grim shakes her head. "Luck doesn't work like that. You never know when you'll get lucky. If you could predict luck, it wouldn't be luck. Now skill...that's another matter entirely."
She bets 1 sp again.
She swears and sullenly watches her money get taken away. "See what I mean?"
Grim shakes her head. "Luck doesn't work like that. You never know when you'll get lucky. If you could predict luck, it wouldn't be luck. Now skill...that's another matter entirely."
She bets 1 sp again.
1d20 + 1
She swears and sullenly watches her money get taken away. "See what I mean?"
Augrim swears at the loss, too. "I guess this is a perfect illustration of how bad things are for me at the moment that this was the best option I could come up with."
Augrim grunts and retreats into a sullen silence for awhile, watching the dice tumble, and people lose their money.
Arianna decides to try her luck at the Quicksilver tables. She heads over, looking for a good place to sit. Seeing a seat open at a table she sits down next to a half-orc and a dwarf. Wanting to draw the attention of the casino ownershe reaches into her sash a produces a gold piece which she kisses and then places on the table.
"For luck"
Play 1:
She takes the houses money and pockets her original gold piece.
"Always better to play with someone else's money"
she has the dealer break the gold piece into silver and place 1 sp on the table.
Play 2:
"Better than a loss" she laughs
Perception check:
Perception:
Perception:
Just beyond the bouncer stands a young, plainly dressed man stands away from the crowd, against the wall. He watches Saul depart, then turns his attention back to the crowd.
An attractive woman stands among the crowd near the largest Bounder table. She watches with seeming disinterest as a gambler lauds his victory, and the rest of the crowd joins in the cheering. All, except the woman, and four men near her. Suddenly, she looks across the room at a man peering out of the door to the privy, then turns back to whisper to the men with her.
The man next to you gets up from the bar, his attention focused across the gambling hall. After a moment, he walks to the privy.
Zaiel glances at the man, turning back to the bar when she sees that his destination is the privy. She blushes.
"Please, a pitcher of wine," she calls to the bar's tender, dipping into her belt pouch. She lays a gold coin on the bar.
After the pitcher arrives, she pours herself a glass and takes a sip. She turns away from the bar and scans the hall for Saul Vancaskerkin, the Gold Goblin's owner.
Arianna Will collect he money and casually walk over to the Bounder table near the group. She will sit down and play a few hands while trying to eavesdrop on their conversation.
Perception:
Bounder hand 1 (2 sp's): Point:
Roll 2:
Augrim grabs Grim's forearm, his hand tense. He pulls her back from the table, motions her to be silent and whispers, "Something is wrong. Something is going down here."
He points out to her the individuals he noticed, and explains how it looks like a heist may be in the works.
Augrim grabs Grim's forearm, his hand tense. He pulls her back from the table, motions her to be silent and whispers, "Something is wrong. Something is going down here."
He points out to her the individuals he noticed, and explains how it looks like a heist may be in the works.
Grim pushes his hand off her. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" she hisses. "I oughta...
She looks over where he's pointing, glances back at Augrim, then back where he's pointing. She shrugs. "I see a woman talking to some guys. So? Lots of people in here are doing the same things. We're doing the same thing, except not so willingly. If this is some weird dwarven way of coming on to me..."
He points it all out to her again, from the plainly-dressed man watching the money chest, to the woman getting the signal from the man at the privvy door. "Just humour me..." he says, dragging her over to the side of the main room, watching the man at the privvy and the plain-dressed man.
"Oh, and what we're doing isn't suspicious at all," Grim says. "Look, just who are you, anyway? And why do you even care about some strange woman making googly eyes at a man in the privy?"
Augrim grabs Grim's forearm, his hand tense. He pulls her back from the table, motions her to be silent and whispers, "Something is wrong. Something is going down here."
He points out to her the individuals he noticed, and explains how it looks like a heist may be in the works.
Grim pushes his hand off her. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" she hisses. "I oughta...
She looks over where he's pointing, glances back at Augrim, then back where he's pointing. She shrugs. "I see a woman talking to some guys. So? Lots of people in here are doing the same things. We're doing the same thing, except not so willingly. If this is some weird dwarven way of coming on to me..."
Zaiel takes another, deeper drink of her wine, watching in interest as the dwarf and the woman play out their animated exchange. What, is he accosting her?, she wonders. After the woman pushes the dwarf's hand from her arm, she finishes her glass, setting it on the bar. By the looks of it, the dwarf is getting a bit too forceful in his advances; this is not something she can abide quietly. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand and nonchalantly strolls nearer; perhaps she can hear a bit of their discourse.
Shelyn help him if he's planning on pleasuring himself at this girl's uninvited expense.
Augrim glares back. "I'm just saying, that in the unlikely chance that I win this blasted tournament, I'm not going to be too happy to find that my winnings have already been pilfered from the treasury. Something tells me that the good operator of this game is going to honour winnings that have been stolen from him, it'll be, 'sucks to be you.'"
Augrim glares back. "I'm just saying, that in the unlikely chance that I win this blasted tournament, I'm not going to be too happy to find that my winnings have already been pilfered from the treasury. Something tells me that the good operator of this game is going to honour winnings that have been stolen from him, it'll be, 'sucks to be you.'"
He chuckles. "Besides, the chances of me, or us if you want to help, of getting some serious cash out of this whole thing are much better if we thwart a would-be robbery than actually trying to win it!"