Nightfall on the streets of Riddleport's Waterfront District. The early summer sky is one of those last shades of blue before true darkness. The season hasn't really gotten its legs yet in this part of the world and sundown still brings a small spring chill. Wisps of mist off the nearby river drift around the knees of the leaning tenements and shops, fogging windows and wetting street cobbles. Up and down the streets of the city the gaslamps spit and spark to life. Maybe one of every three still function in this part of town. The others merely sizzle occasionally or cast a light so soft that only the glass is illuminated, creating little glowing bubbles of light in a dark and dangerous sea.
The fact is that the streets of Riddleport get more lethal when the sun goes down. What would pass for crime in most cities occurs in broad daylight here. The flavor of the crimes, the severity of the penalties and the potential for gain all increase when alley shadows creep into the streets. Simple panhandlers gather their belongings and scuttle off to whatever places they deem 'safe'. Their replacements are cutpurses, thugs and working women. Sailors from the vessels in port wander the streets of the city in packs for protection, well aware that stragglers are often found bobbing in the harbor at first light.
This night the gangs of sailors, the thugs and even a few of the whores have congregated in the waterfront for a rebirth of sorts. One of the landmarks of the city, the Gold Goblin Gambling Hall is reopening its doors after a deep renovation. The filth and decay of the old management has been swept into the sea. New management is opening the hall with a grand gambling tournament the likes of which have not been seen since the old glory days of the Goblin. "Cheat the Devil and Take His Gold" is what the man calls it, but the grand prize is actually 10,000 shining pieces of silver against an entry fee of only 10. Most sailors in this town will take those odds as often as they can afford them. Compound the normal enthusiastic crowd of chance-takers with the extra folks gathering in town to observe the mysterious shadow in the sky and you have the makings of a mob.
The Gold Goblin itself is one of the larger buildings in the district. The main floor sits under a distinctive bronze dome, now green with years of weathering. The curving facade of the building is lined with wide reinforced windows that fill the square outside with light. At the appointed hour a pair of muscled guards, bare to the waist and covered in swirling tattoos, take their place at the main entrance. The doors are opened and the gathered crowd is allowed to meander into the casino.
Once in town, a local scamp named Renfro put you in contact with the Harrower. She lives in an old manor outside of town. By all accounts she is the genuine article - a witch with the means to read true portents. Renfro seemed genuinely alarmed at the prospect of leading you to the woman. Then the boy brings late word to you of a plan change - you are to meet at the Gold Goblin Gambling Hall at some gambling tournament. You're to watch for a golden feather. The bearer of this symbol is the woman you seek.
Such is the case with this young uplander who currently seeks an appointment with your mother, the infamous seer Agatha Kraune. Your mother will ensorcle, murder and butcher this young stranger for parts. His stripped bones will dance for her pleasure unless someone warns him. You have run her errands and listened at her knee for an entire childhood and the startling conclusion that must be drawn from it all is that you, despite your mother's careful instruction, despite the taint that runs through your veins, are not evil. At least you strive not to be. Your conscience will not allow you to stand by and watch this latest butchery unfold. Rebellion against your mother is a daunting road, but it is the only one you can see that does not end in the pits of Hell.
Your rebellion starts tonight. You have intercepted the young man's dispatches and have duped him into meeting you at the gambling tournament at the Gold Goblin. He's to watch for a gold feather, which you wear as an amulet around your neck. You're not sure where this rebellion will lead, but you are certain that returning to your mother's home after tonight would be unwise. She will undoubtedly mistake this as your need to sow wild oats or some such nonsense. She does not understand the war in your heart. If she ever fought such an internal battle, she lost it long ago; well before cleaving to whatever fiend sired you.
For DM
Brenin wraps his cloak tightly around himself and secures his belt pouches beneath and out of sight as much as possible. He moves in cautiously with the crowd and finds a spot he can put his back to the wall and observe the going ons.
I stop at a vender to pick up some eats and ale. My plan is to wander around and shoot the breeze with some of the people. Kind of just hang around and see if the guy spots me.
My knowledge arcana is 15+8=22
My 0 level spells or Cantrips are:Daze, guidance, and touch of fatigue.
Opening rolls:
Local - Blot = 20 (14+6)
Local - G. Goblin = 13 (7+6)
For the DM
For the most part, the crowd parts ahead of them due to Isegrim's bulk, but he still treads lightly. Trouble is likely to start in Riddleport with no provocation at all, let alone if you go around knocking into people.
Isegrim is rather amused at the number of people lining up to give their hard-earned money away, until it strikes him that most of the money here probably wasn't come by through hard work (at least not of the honest variety).
At Trystan's glance, Isegrim clasps his best friend on the shoulder and lets the priest take the lead. He trails slightly behind and to the right, falling into a natural protective position. This seedy crowd has his neck hairs standing on end, although he's honestly had that feeling ever since coming to Riddleport. Still, he is glad of his decision to come armed and armored tonight.
A chain shirt lies beneath his best black tunic and the red-leather-wrapped two-handed hilt of his sword extends above his right shoulder. Isegrim drops his hands casually to his waist, resting them atop each of the two small throwing axes looped through his wide belt.
Out of habit, his thoughts drift to what he would do if that man over there attacked them, or how he would shield Trystan if the woman in the corner pulled a crossbow. Could he bring himself to attack a woman? Isegrim shakes his head, trying to clear it of that particular thought.
Lest Trystan sense his tense mood, Isegrim clasps him roughly on the shoulder, flashes a toothy grin and says in his gravelly voice, "which way to the bar?!"
Isegrim, you pick up no signs of overt hostility or interest from anyone in the crowd.
The Gold Goblin has been closed for quite a long time. The guy who is reopening it, Saul Vankaskerkin, is relatively unknown to you. He's famously one-handed, the other ends in an arcane looking key.
The reopening of the Gold Goblin and the resurrection of Saul Vankaskerkin comes as something of a surprise. One rumor on this man says that he got his hand chopped off as his punishment for some crime. Another runs that Clegg Zincher had his hand severed for his family's role in Zincher's brother's death. It's all ancient history, but if the latter is true, Zincher may not be happy with the Goblin's reopening. As your dad primarily runs for Zincher, this probably doesn't upset you overmuch.
Just inside the door is a table where sit two gorgeous young faux-succubi, complete with leather wings, horns and barbed tails. They present each entrant with a contract for them to mark and collect the entry fee of 10 silver pieces. The money goes into a large iron-bound chest which is flanked by two heavily muscled and tattooed guards. The fee paid, the mounting crowd gathers on the gaming hall floor, roaming amidst the gaming tables which have not yet opened.
Profession (Innkeeper) check for anything that stands out about the taverns layout, visible inventory, employees.. Anything highly unusual for a normal bar.
Sense motive check if able to read a contract in advance
Perception and Knowledge (Local) checks for local personalities and who is/isn't signing this form.
Perception
Local
Isegrim pushes the paper back across the table to the costumed woman with a grin.
"I'll just be drinking, so don't waste your little paper on me. I'll be around all night though," and with a wink he turns and walks over to Trystan.
"What's the holdup? I thought you couldn't wait to get in there and throw your coin away."
The old woman behind you starts to mumble vague obscenities as Trystan hesitates over the contract.
The girl bats her heavy lashes at Isegrim and drawls, "Darlin' if you don't sign the contract, your soul will miss out on all the mortal peril. What fun is that?"
Each of you who pays the fee receives a wooden token painted gold. This is a 'gold eye' in the parlance of the tournament. There are also 'silver tooth' and 'copper heart' tokens for smaller denominations at the gaming tables. You start the tournament in Avernus, the first pit of hell. You must purchase a badge of Dis in order to pass to that layer (the second). This badge costs 1 gold eye which is currently everything you have. So you only buy it when you have improved your token total by gambling and can afford the price of the next layer's badge.
The goblin offers four games to choose from. Bounder is a dice game where the players roll against the croupier. Ghoulette features a spinning wheel with an enchanted head in its center. Golem is a card game similar to draw but the house plays as well. Skiffs is a strategy game invented by halflings using stones, a grid etched into the game table, and a large bowl.
Isegrim says glibly to the "succubus", "I somehow doubt in this crowd there will be any lack of mortal peril as the night goes on. But here's my friend's entry fee and a little extra for you." Isegrim hands over 25s.
And then, to Trystan, "make your mark and let us move along to the bar and whatever rigged game strikes your fancy."
Isegrim lifts his pewter tankard from the loop at his belt and spins it on his finger, emphasizing its emptiness.
Trystan scrawls on the form, heads towards the dice table finding the first barmaid along the way. "Please keep our mugs full my dear until either I turn ugly or he becomes handsome. Extra gold for you if it comes from the reserve stocks."
According to my sheet I get one regular and one bonus spell. However in my notes you had me pick 3 and I can't figure out why. My viper doesn't get bonus spells untill 2nd level. Any thoughts?
Anyway my two first level spells are Ray of enfeeblement and mage armor.
For DM
"You're drinking or gambling Uplander... no spectators here tonight."
To the same barmaid, "Ain't he funny, lass? I've heard that humor can be a way of hiding embarrassment though- haven't you?" and Isegrim wiggles a limp pinky finger suggestively. "But surely alcohol will cure that!" as he barks out a laugh.
"If you don't get in now you can't get in at all... just sayin'. Rules of the tournament." He shrugs and turns his attention to the other people entering the hall.
In the center of the gaming floor is a short podium and this is where the chest is taken as the last of the entry fees is collected. Above the podium is a large birdcage suspended from the ceiling by a chain. The cage contains a little blue-grey devil in an evident sour mood. As the chest is placed below the cage the little monster gets to its feet and rakes its horns on the bars. It gnashes its teeth at the folks closest to it and barks out snippets of the infernal tongue.
The crash of a symbol from the back of the hall brings the crowd to a relative silence. A rather short man with a cane and a severed hand mounts the podium accompanied by two of the house succubi. He smiles widely, a relatively handsome man who is obviously comfortable in front of crowds.
"Welcome Riddleport! Welcome to the old Gold Goblin... restored!" He waves his stub in a motion that takes in the crowded floor. The stub is capped with a piece of metal that looks like a large key.
"Welcome to the 'Cheat the Devil' tournament. Each of you has a chance of taking Old Scratch's treasure from under his nose." At this the little devil jumps around and lets out a fresh stream of infernal filth. It belches loudly, adding the faint smell of brimstone to the mounting fug of the room.
"Venture deeper through the layers of hell by purchasing the badges of passage. Reach the innermost Nessus and your soul regains its freedom, and the devil's gold in the bargain!" He delivers this with a winning chuckle that most of the crowd shares.
He raises a finger and lowers his voice. "Bust out, and your soul is damned. The Devil's Mark you'll receive, and we'll cast you into the river Styx."
"What's the Devil's Mark, you ask? Aah... no less than the forfeiture of your very soul. It's too terrible for words... perhaps I should just show you. I certainly deserve worse, ladies. Better make it two." Each of the nubile young women leans over and plants a ruby red kiss on his cheek.
He laughs with the crowd and the catcalls that follow.
"Now let the tournament begin!"
The din of the crowd resumes and is compounded by the calls of the dealers, the clatter of dice and the clicking of the ghoulette wheel.
Isegrim keeps a very wary eye on the thing in the cage. He takes up a spot at Trystan's shoulder, also facing the devil or whatever it is.
Pointing at the cage he says to his friend, "if you play your cards right you just might get its gold AND a date," and he lets out a guffaw. It's clear to Trystan that the thing is making Isegrim uncomfortable and he's trying to assuage those feelings with humor.
http://img705.imageshack.us/img705/6986/pz09122007.jpg
For DM
Lia takes her place at the table and places her bet. She paces herself for many reasons. One, she wants to be able to observe the players; two, she wants to blend in well and be able to keep her eyes peeled for characters of note. She is used to the games and the scams that others try to use to win. She hangs loose and watches as she bets.
Lia is an early winner but modest bets prevent her from making any kind of large gains. Four rolls into the game the last seat at the table is taken by Trystan. With him is a large, dark-haired man who is preoccupied with Old Scratch. He keeps glancing over his shoulder at the little devil. Of course, scratch notices the eye contact and singles him out for verbal abuse.
Knowledge (Local) -
Perception -
Bounder -
Isegrim grimaces and in a very serious tone says, "aye, my good friend. That course of action is looking better and better by the minute. I don't care to share the room with that thing, caged or otherwise."
"The costumes the serving girls are wearing have lost a bit o' their charm as well due to their resemblance," and when he receives incredulous stares from the others at the table he follows with, "I said the costumes lost their charm... it's a simple thing to remove those!"
Realizing there is a woman at the table, Isegrim sputters and stammers an apology for his crassness, drawing more laughter from the assembled gamblers. He says to her, "Isegrim Valko, ma'am. And this here is my good friend Trystan. Apologies, but I did not expect to find so fine a lady gambling among the likes of these rough folk," he says with a smile around the table. "Please, allow me to buy you a glass of this place's best red."
For Trystan, Isegrim, and DM
Lia joins in with the laughter at the table. "No need to apologize," she says, "I am sure I don't qualify as a lady most days." She has a twinkle in her eye as she surveys the men. "However, the drink would be appreciated. Gambling is thirsty work." She cuts a look up at the devil in the cage. "It seems he has your number tonight, eh?"
You have doubled your tokens already. You now have 20 silver teeth, enough to purchase the badge of Dis and still have your entire entry stakes to bet with in the next round.
And also, your mark is apparently not at the ghoulette table. Several of the rough sailors at the table stare at little other than your cleavage (explaining their lack of winnings), but no one mentions the feather.
You're free to move around between skill checks. Place another wager, buy a badge (advance in the tourney), snoop, whatever. You've not spotted your witch yet.
At one of the Golem tables a loud row breaks out. One shouted accusation is heard and then suddenly chips and fists are flying. The guards descend on the two quarrelers immediately, perhaps eager to get the night's first engagement over with. Soon both brawlers are receiving the Devil's Mark, not in the form offered by Saul's temptresses, but rather as a right cross to the jaw. Both men are thrown unceremoniously into the street and order in the casino is restored. The devil in the cage laughs hysterically throughout.
At one of the Golem tables a loud row breaks out. One shouted accusation is heard and then suddenly chips and fists are flying. The guards descend on the two quarrelers immediately, perhaps eager to get the night's first engagement over with. Soon both brawlers are receiving the Devil's Mark, not in the form offered by Saul's temptresses, but rather as a right cross to the jaw. Both men are thrown unceremoniously into the street and order in the casino is restored. The devil in the cage laughs hysterically throughout.
Was that image I posted of the proprietor? I imagine it is, as there can't be that many guys with keys for arms..or who knows? maybe there can be :) Here's the image again..
http://img705.imageshack.us/img705/6986/pz09122007.jpg
If it is, I was thinking I'd go ahead and add it to the Supporting Cast area of the site
You mentioned the name Saul in this last post.. is that his name?
Isegrim doesn't understand the details of what the little devil is saying, but the general meaning is certainly not lost on him. When the thing starts laughing after the fight Isegrim says in a low voice, "that little bastard should shut up if it knows what's good for it. I haven't cut anything into tiny pieces in far too long."
And, with a smile for Lia, "as for the wretch having my number.. that would be lucky for me and decidedly un-lucky for it. There's something very satisfying about sending those little pricks back to their own foul plane of existence."
Taking a glass of red wine smoothly from the tray of a passing "succubus" and tossing a silver on in its place, Isegrim proffers it to the alluring half-elf, saying, "and look at that! your beverage is here!"
He takes a long, slow pull on his draft and studies the devil.
He bets two silver teeth on his third round of dice.
For DM
For Trystan, Isegrim, and DM
Lia takes the proffered drink with a smile to Isegrim. To his friend she replies, "I gamble, Little Man, I gamble." With a wink to Isegrim, Lia says, "Bigs, is it?" She gestures to Trystan, "So, what...you babysit this one?"
You've maybe set the record for early badge purchase, winning out of the gate like you have. You get pulled over by the sound of the skiffs game, which is the clatter of stones in a bowl and across a wooden table. It takes a minute of watching the game to understand that this is more strategy than chance. You hold your own at this table, but soon come to realize that the players can gang up on one another and do.
Finally tired of skiffs and in dire need of a drink you gather your tokens and step away, allowing a drunk to take your place - no doubt to throw away whatever tokens he holds.
Your chips and your drink gathered, you head over to the ghoulette wheel. The animated head on the ghoulette wheel hurls insults and (occasionally) compliments at game players. In your case it has some particular opinions on the subject of Uplanders and their shaggy ponies. You lose a silver tooth playing this game. The round is won by a powdered member of the bourgeoisie... maybe one of the Cyphermages that dwell hereabouts. He collects his money and goes to buy a Badge of Dis.
You ditch this crappy excuse of a game and scan the room for others. There are many bounder tables, all of which are packed with gamblers and those waiting for empty seats. There's also the halfling game skiffs.
Standing much as you by the nearest skiffs table is an exotic looking redhead with the slightly-pointed ears of a half-elf. Your eyes are drawn to her bust and the gold feather pendant resting there. She does not match any of the descriptions you've heard of Agatha Kraune.
Isegrim chuckles, "Trystan, I'm no gambler but I've been watching for a while here and," as he drops to a loud whisper everyone can hear, "you do know you're supposed to roll high numbers right? Like she does," poking his thumb towards their new friend Lia and tossing her a wink as well.
As she contemplates her new friends, something continues to prey on her mind. "It seems, my big friend, that the dice are fickle this night." She takes a drink and fiddles with her coins on the table. "I've been distracted this evening by the dice," she says, "I didn't quite catch your names." A tug of fear grips her as she awaits their answers. She stares at Trystan.
Your table is unbalanced for a while by the presence of a handsome ship's captain named Josper Creesy. He wears a full beard and mustache and the long plaits of a sailor. His aggressive betting and spectacular luck steals the energy of your table and Lia manages to lose what she gained. .
Like a shooting star, Creesy soon busts out in style. An attractive young woman helps him to the bar to nurse his wounded pride and to administer the Devil's Mark. In fact before she escapes and he is escorted out he's practically covered in Devil's Marks.
Once Creesy leaves the table sister luck comes to sit with Trystan and he gains a silver.
Chalking any perceived discomfort on Lia's part up to her downturn of luck, Isegrim says, "I'm not sure I gave you my name, and I apologize," even though he did mention it. "It's Isegrim, from the old Elvish for 'large charming man with a big sword'."
Lia shakes her head as the dice lose all interest in her. "I suppose it was only a matter of time before we met. I'm surprised I've managed to avoid this day for so long," she says to him with a wary smile.