Interestingly enough, this is decidedly not dwarven. While the building itself is a mix of dwarven, gnomish, and human plannings, the vaults are entirely different.
In fact...you can't really put a finger on it at all. The metal is too smooth, too seamless, even for dwarven or elven work.
”I prefer to drink tea, thank you. By all means, enjoy a sip of the Horsemen.”
The halfling nods to each one, meeting their eyes as she says their name. ”I read the reports about Xilres. Impressive to say the least. I wish I had been there. Now I realize you probably like operating independently. That’s fine. I do too. A big draw for this line of work is the looseness in the regulations. So speak your mind if I give an order that isn’t to your liking. Convince me I’m wrong. There’s usually more than one way to accomplish a goal. I’m wise enough to know that. So my orders usually have enough space for interpretation to make most people satisfied, but sometimes they don’t. Be prepared to accept the consequences for not obeying an order. Just as I am.”
She smiles, makes a chart on a page of her notepad. ”So what languages do you speak?” Rilka shifts from Halfling, Draconic, and Elven in rapid succession. ”I don’t get as much time to study new ones as I’d like.” She pencils in next to each name, the languages he speaks.
Any outstanding issues I need to know? Large gambling debts, for instance. Any questions?”[/b]
-----------
At the First Bank of Theris, Rilka Featherfeet gauges the reactions of her new group to the wonders of the place. She remembers her first time here and the excitement she felt.
When time, she deposits her staff, short sword, dagger, and pouch of bullets into her box. She also leaves her cloak. From her backpack she removes a sunrod and a leather book. From two belt pouches she carefully stows a small number of vials in the box. Finally, she removes a vial attached to a necklace and places that inside the box as well. She closes the box and waits for the group to be ready. While she waits, she flips open a small notepad and writes a few notes with a pencil.
”A magical loincloth?” she asks Bjorkus. ”Nevertheless, thank you for following the rules.”
Once inside the inner vault, she asks, ”Can the vaults be rolled around like marbles too? We’ll all fit into one cart?”
Heff chuckles as he ruffles his curly hair, looking a bit odd without the hat on it. "That I very much doubt. They're welded together tight, nothing in there moves an inch. Yeah, they have some pretty long carts. They don't get very wide, just long."
Bjorkus raises a brow at the tiny woman's sudden authority. He stifles a laugh. That was the way of most women after all.
"Common and giant", the bull admits. "And lovemakin'. That's somethin' everybody seems to understand", he rumbles.
***
Bjorkus enjoys the spectacle of the massive elaborate vault as much as everyone else but after a while he's left wondering, what's the point of it all? Booty was meant to be spent or at the very least put on display. What's the point of being rich if you have to bury your riches a mile under the earth?
The bull snorts and nods at Rilka's assessment of his surrendered garment before climbing into the cart along with everyone else.
"What'r we comin' down here to see?"
"Not see, get" You finally reach the front of the line, where Heff leans on the counter and slides a small piece of paper under the glass. "Hello darling, small withdrawal today." The woman returns the smile, then reads the paper. "Henry White, yes we'll have a cart right up for you." Heff grabs the paper back, tucking it into his pocket and leading you back to the cart area while whispering. "Forgot to mention, call me Henry here." Without further explanation the cart arrives, a large one that can seat everybody comfortably. A bored looking man makes sure everybody is in, then puts his hand on the front of the cart and it takes off rather quickly.
The trip is quick but interesting, the cart going on many loops around the sphere shaped vaults. Finally you end in front of a vault about three feet in diameter, where the man turns and offers a key to Heff. Heff takes it, ushering you up to the front of the vault. He glances back at the cart driver-who is gnawing on an apple and staring directly away from you-before inserting the key and opening the small vault. Inside it is a large pile of copper brooch's with an A in the center of them. He grabs four, then closes the vault and motions back to the cart. Once inside he taps the bored man on the shoulder, who begins paying attention to you again as he sets down his apple and begins the journey back.
Heff offers each member (except Rilka) a brooch. "This will establish your authority as one of our agents. In some places it will open doors, in other places it will get your throat slit." You finally return to the inner vault room, where everybody steps out of the cart and begins making their way towards the exit. "So anyways, we'll be jumping right into things, the first order of busi..." The room is filled with the sound of screaming as confusion and panic sets in. Glancing around you see two men behind each of the restricted teller areas. In their hand each man holds an assembly of wood with an iron pipe on the end, the far end of which is smoking. After a few seconds of confusion a man jumps on top of a table and holds a much longer version of their weapons, firing it into the air and getting every bodies attention. As the crowd falls silent a dozen armed men take out their own wood and metal assemblies, holding them out and herding the civilians.
"Hello, and welcome to my retirement party!" He is a middle aged human with brown hair and brown eyes. "You are all guests here, and I want to have a nice, safe party, so let's lay down some ground rules. Nobody leaves the party early, nobody attacks the host or any of his guests of honor, and everybody does as I say. Do that and every one of you will walk out of here alive. For now, the first thing I say is you can all sit down." The crowd murmurs a bit, a few of the people getting down. The man rolls his eyes, dropping his long gun and taking out a pistol, firing it into the air. With a few more shrieks of the fear the rest of the crowd makes their way to the floor.
"Lights out, Lindale?"
Lindale turns to Heff. "What will happen if we use spells now? I won't get arrested too will I? Where are they keeping our things?"
Heff looks conflicted. "It will set off the alarm and should bring us help, but they might kill us for it. Doubt we can take on a dozen men when we are unarmed. Security office, somewhere to the east of us."
Bjorkus crouches down and tries to look unimposing (as much as his hulking frame will allow).
"What's the plan" he rumbles in a low tone. "Some of us cause a distraction while the rest make a break for our gear?"
Toramin scans the room.
"If we try to leave to get to the security office they will likely see us and try to stop us. Darkness will likely blind them but they may start blindly using those weapons and accidentally hit someone. Perhaps we should play along for now and see what they want. Surely the bank has it's own security measures and reinforcements will be here any moment." Lindale sits down with everyone else.
"A few." Dalton responds to Rilka with a quick greeting in each of his languages of proficiency, identifying the ones she is unaware of.
*******
"If breaking the rules means I might die, I'll damn well do that before one of these brigands shoots me! Until that choice comes to pass, I agree with Lindale - their security should be here any moment. No need to budge." The man's confidence doesn't match well with his prone position.
Heff lowers himself as well, nodding slightly. "Agreed. Time and a place. Whatever they're doing will probably take some time, we can find a better opportunity that involves less enemies and civilians in the way."
Finally seeing the new group comply the man smiles. "See? Isn't so hard to listen to rules. Now, my guest of honor here is going to open a door for you..." To the left a man shoots through the glass of one of the stations, then begins reloading for another shot. "...and the party shall continue in there. I don't want to have to take care of anybody, so nobody get cut on broken glass."
After several minutes of shooting and reloading, the man finally creates enough holes to shatter the reinforced glass. He takes his sword and clears the rest of the glass away, making a fairly large opening. Their leader gestures at the hole. "After you." Slowly, the terrified civilians begin filing their way through the hole, a long process as there's only one opening and some of them aren't very in shape. The party is somewhere near the end of the line.
Bjorkus follows along quietly. As he does, he tries to get a read on the robbers closest to him. Who was a hardened criminal and who was likely to break under pressure?
As a lot of the demands go down, one of the robbers sticks out like a sore thumb. He is unarmed, has decidedly less scars on him, and doesn't have a hard set jaw like the other robbers. As their leader is shouting he talks to some of the civilians in front, whispering something inaudible and patting them on the hand or back as if reassuring them. Some civilians stare at him, but a few calm down a bit. He even gives one or two a sad, friendly smile. Eventually one of the other robbers puts a hand on his shoulder, pulling him back a step and whispering something in his ear. The man nods, stepping away from the civilians and looking down at his feet.
Like the rest of the group, Rilka knows that the time isn’t appropriate for attempting to stop the thieves. She nods in agreement as she sits. Over the time it takes for the glass to be shattered, she removes her pouches, leaving them on the floor, and unbuckles her belt, cautiously sliding it through the belt loops. She rebuckles the belt around her waist, free from any impediments is she needs a quick improvised weapon.
Picking up on something, Bjorkus falls back until he’s near the fresh-faced robber. Even though he cuts an impressive figure, the bull tries his best to look subdued – his shoulders hunched and his horned head bowed.
”This is gunna turn out badly”, he rumbles in a low voice. ”You ready for that kinda blood on your hands?” the bull asks quietly.
The man is certainly nervous, but he's in control of himself. He gives you a suspicious look. "Just don't cause any trouble and there will be no blood. Trust me, I talked him into it. Killing a hostage only makes the others more likely to panic."
The party and the rest of the hostages are brought into the office rooms of the bank. After a suspicious glance from the leader, he orders the party members to be put in a room by themselves. As you pass through you get a few seconds to take in the offices. There are several desks in the center of the room with a chair at each and a lot of office supplies on them. Piles of paperwork of varying height and either paper or parchment cover them, with pens and ink and letter openers and generally anything you need to do paperwork. The desks each have their own closed drawers, holding more things. Glancing around shows a number of closed cabinets on the walls, closed but you can see from the warping of the wood there are things inside their drawers. The west wall has a large basin of clean water and several pewter cups on a table. Doors are everywhere save the southern wall, which is where you guess the hallway was you entered from.
The party is brought to the center room on the western wall and ordered to sit at the far end. Two of the robbers enter with you, closing the door behind them. They each have a pistol and a sword in hand, and they seem to be content spending the next bit of time staring you all down. The room looks like a meeting room with a table in the center, several wooden chairs pushed to one side of the room, and a few closed cabinets. There are no windows.
Heff goes up against the far wall and slides down it, breathing out slowly. He glances from the cabinets, to the guards, then to the chairs, lost in thought. But for the time being he simply sits and bides his time.
"I'm gunna try to distract them. We can overpower one and take his weapons", the minotaur whispers to the party.
While maintaining his act, Bjorkus clears his throat. "What'r they gunna do with us?" the bull rumbles.
After Bjorkus whispers, blondie turns his attention towards him and frowns, waving his pistol. "None of that now."
After the question, blondie sighs. "We're trying to keep the body count low, nonexistent if possible, but don't test us. We're normally not so generous."
”Have you guys done somethin’ like this before?” Bjorkus asks.
While he hopefully has the guards distracted, the minotaur waits for his allies to get into position.
Blondie looks at Bjorkus for a moment, then gives a little smile. "I'm willing to keep up an idle chat with you, passes the time. But let's not talk about work."
Bjorkus can tell this guy is an old hat, been around the game of illegal activity for a while. He knows enough to not talk about "work" with people he doesn't know.
Bjorkus snorts and nods. ”No talkin ‘bout work. What do you do when you’re not at work?”
He shrugs. "Spend some time with the family, go to my day job. Tinker with these when I have some free time." He holds up a pistol.
”Family? So you have an old lady?” the bull rumbles thoughtfully.
”Do they know ‘bout this?”
Dalton mimics Heff's silence, but his mind screamed at him to do something. Still holding onto the hope security was arriving, he looked to the defensive and offensive capabilities of his captors. What could they do if cornered?
Looking at their wear, even the unseasoned Barrowwheel surmised these thieves didn't at all expect to need to deal with much brutality up close. He expected they were skilled with the blades, but perhaps out of practice. A stare at the firearms would hopefully reveal some insight as to capacity or material...
Blondie leans against the wall with a slow exhale. "Ma died a few years ago to the fever. Na, family think I just do freelance mercenary work." He doesn't look at all bothered about the questioning of his morality.
Dalton sizes up the captors, gleaming that while every man looks able to use both ranged and melee weapons, some are better with one than the other. Blondie looks more likely to bring things close while half-ear would probably rely on his pistol.
The firearms are simple, a wooden stick and an iron octagon barrel. Single shot muzzle loaders, not very accurate but dependable if dry and deadly if it hits.
Two shots. Probably at the more threatening of us. They'd probably go for Bjorkus. Then the Dwarf? Drow? Dalton rested a bit easier knowing he was probably lower on the totem pole. And even assuming those shots hit and killed, there were more of them than the present guards.
Still the guards should be coming. And if not, to hell with the protocols. A few spells in his mind Dalton would like to level at them, but not with the loaded weapons in their hands.
Lindale is quiet as the others banter with the men. Their personal lives aren't important to him. He continues looking around the room. Looking for anything...
Rilka sits next to Heff, her knees tucked under her chin. She’s lost in thought, looking around the office, when she asks, ”Who made those weapons? Your gang must make a decent profit to afford such modern devices. You’re like a small army.”
After a few moments she says: ”Too bad you didn’t think about your family when agreeing to do this job. You better hope the prison allows them to visit.”
"Yeah, beautiful creature with long hair. Na, they think I just do freelance mercenary work." He doesn't look at all bothered about the questioning of his morality.
Lindale scans each section of the room carefully, getting familiar with each corner, but without opening the drawers and cabinets there's not much to see. Although he does notice half-ear has some interesting looking types of bullets, not all of which are normal bullets.
Blondie glances around for a moment to find the little halfling talking to him. "Wouldn't know, not my department. Yeah, we do well, and I wouldn't worry too much about prison. If I were you I'd be worrying about keeping out of trouble."
"Just hope they're not fleecing you, young man. In all my life, I'd never try something this dangerous. Not that I've been here before, but the place is just so big." Dalton got the sense he was a poor family man. Bad for him - worse for him that Dalton would have to throw him under to escape. When the time comes. Just a little bit longer...
Blondie grunts. "Doubt it, he's a crack shot but if he swindled all of us we'd hunt him down pretty quick." He waves the pistol again. "No talk about work." Half-ear finally speaks up, his voice a low hiss. "Four eighteen fifteen twenty-three." Blondie nods, saying nothing more.
It took him several seconds to go through the common alphabet but he eventually guessed it. D-R-O-W. Clearly they don't like me. Maybe they saw me looking at their weapons...
He is ready to use darkness if they ever point their weapons at him threateningly.
Lindale can tell from their looks to each other and generally how they both respond to the message that they're not talking about him. Apparently it was some kind of checkpoint, notification, or message from the others. They also appear to be calm, so apparently it is/was was something they expected.