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Although the Gold Goblin stands in a much-neglected neighborhood and the building itself has long stood dormant and empty, it makes a comeback as the big day comes. 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.
You all have your various reasons for coming to the Gold Goblin on the day of the tournament, but without fail you all arrive(not necessarily together.) . 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. Beyond the main doorway 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, batwinged 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 barechested 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 threateningly.
You can all assume that you had the 1 GP entrance cost and are now somewhere within the Gold Goblin Gambling hall, you can also RP your arrive if you wish. As you entered to signed a mock contract to sell your soul to the devil.
Arriving with the crowd is a young woman who at first appears to be another one of the showgirls - tiny red horns, long tail with a pointed arrow-shaped tip, red demi-corset and triangle-cut skirt - but then her tail moves and twitches on its own. The cheeky woman slides in with a comment to a gawking guest of "Yes, they're real," as she runs her hands across the petite horns. Unlike the ersatz succubi, though, she has no wings.
Sliding through the masses and avoiding the occasional groping hand, she makes her way to the bar and scans the sad collection of beverages with a critical eye.
Appearance // Current Mood: Nervous //
"Everyone who's anyone is going to be there." Sin says these words in a mocking nasal tone. The 16 year old girl had found herself in the town of Riddleport nearly against her wishes. In her time here the priest had come to develop a great detest for the people and their behavior, but did have to admit a liking to their general state of freedom. Coming from the oppressive lands of Cheliax even the salty and sweaty scent of the pirate town was a breath of fresh air.
Soon after arriving in town she had managed to meet one person she found interesting. A young man named [DM decision] who was only 1-2 years older than her and had taken an interest in the girl. Her original words were those mocking him, as it was the line he used to convince her to come to the gambling den tonight. She had been here already 10 minutes and could not seem to find him in the crowd anywhere.
Physically Sin stood at 5' 2", and wore a cheaply crafted black dress she felt rode a little to low on the back side. She had brought her long white hair into a long brain over her left shoulder. Sin and worn a poor excuse of make-up, trying to add a little color to her abnormally pale cheeks. Not blending with her ensemble at all would be the spiked gauntlet the priest wore on her right hand. The girl learned a long time ago not to go anywhere unarmed.
Eventually she came to see the strange caged creature, and tried her best to recognize the beast.
Having signed the entrance contract with a flourish (and someone else's name; she was fairly certain it wasn't binding, but she hadn't actually bothered to read the clauses) and reluctantly handed over one of her last gold pieces, Syeira moves through the crowd relatively undisturbed, following along in the small wake made by her guide. She pauses long enough to curiously regard the caged creature and is rewarded for her curiosity when another patron rudely jostles her as he walks by. The witch gives the man a black glare, but he hardly notices, eyes fixed as they are on one of the half-dressed waitresses wandering by. Collecting her dignity and her slightly bruised self-esteem, Syeira leaves off studying the demonic creature and hurries to catch up with Silvio.
"It is just like home here for you, hmm?" the witch teases inquisitor, her rural Varisian accent warm, melodic, and utterly lacking that edge common to the Riddleport dialect. "Selling your soul in a contract, bargaining with the denizens of the Lower Planes, half-skyclad succubi prancing about for sheer entertainment. You Chelish folk do so yearn for the Abyss." And he would have me stay here. Although she finds the theme to be harmless, if a bit tacky, she isn't sure she's comfortable about sleeping under the same roof as the creature locked in the cage.
"So what shall we do first? Try our hands at a game of luck?" Syeira asks with a certain mischievous glint in her eye. "Or would you rather speak to this... What is his name? Vanwankerskin? Would you like to find him first?"
Silvio quickly looks over his attire at the entrance. Shirt straight. Collar pressed. Armor polished. Book at the ready. His armor still had the stylings of the Riddleport Gendarmes that guarded the city. Those who knew could see he lacked any insignia of rank. But Silvio was loathe to give up his identity entirely. He intended to look good, official, competent. Distracted with his own appearance, he is thrown for a loop when someone shoves a contract in his face. He takes it in hand and began reading the provisions. "What's this? A contract to sell my soul? You mock me! My soul belongs to He Who Rules the First Vault!" He tears the contract into tiny bits and tossed it into the air, before dragging Syeira in behind him.
"This place is not like Cheliax at all, Madame Istrati. In Cheliax, a contract is a serious thing. And to be precise, Chelaxians sell their souls to Hell, not the Abyss. Such contracts are far more profitable, though still misguided." The humor of the situation seems lost on the strange fellow.
Entering the room, Silvio's eyes scan first for troublemakers. .
A gambling den was familiar territory, and Silvio felt like he knew his way around. "Riddleport is my home now, and I know it well. Stay clear of those girls over there, if you want to hang on to your coin purse. And that half-orc in the back might just cleave you in twain if you offend him. Why don't I buy you a drink while we try a game? What's your poison?" He flags down a waitress to order a drink, though Silvio scrupulously requests only water for himself.
"Ah," the witch responds to Silvio's correction with all the faux embarrassment of one who has been proven wrong about a topic of little interest. It's clear that the distinction between the Abyss and Hell is not one that she cares to recognize. "But please, call me Syeira, or Miss Istrati if you must. 'Madame Istrati' is how my Nana was known, Desna rest her soul. I may not be in the flower of my youth anymore, but I'm not quite that old yet."
Syeira's smile turns wry when Silvio warns her of the pickpockets. That would be an awful lot of trouble for nothing, she considers, her hand moving down to check that her coin purse is still there within the folds of her emerald dress. She rubs the paltry couple of coins together in the leather pouch. Perhaps a pickpocket might take pity upon me and put a few coins into my purse. Trying to make a living as a Harrower has been difficult since the cursed blot had first appeared in the skies above Riddleport. The same dire fate had been shown in the cards for everyone she had performed a reading on for the past several weeks. So she was in no position to turn down a free drink.
"That would be lovely, gràcies. A mead would be nice, although nothing too strong. The strings of fate tangle easily beneath drunken fingers," she says, wiggling her slim, olive-skinned fingers for emphasis.
There was something about this city at night, probably the constant threat of a mugging or even death around each corner, that forces life into your veins. I normally avoid this area but oh well I guess. Good thing I dressed down and not up for this. Instead of his normal thin and revealing clothing Dougal wears leather breeches tucked into rarely used leather boots. A fitted red and gold jacket is left unbuttoned to show a loose white shirt which shows a bit of skin. His brown hair is tied back. A dagger is shoved into his boot and a rapier hang from his hip. Palming the amulet he keeps around his wrist as he walks.
Grinning and picking up his speed when he sees the crowd. Slowly making his way through the crowd and stopping to stare at the garish goblin Wow, just wow... So if I open a gambling hall could I have a golden statue of me? That would be.. hmmm, fake succubi.' Following the flow of the crowd and the call of scantily clad people.
Raising an eyebrow and grinning at the noise the Abadarian is making over a pointless contract. "That one is out of place here." Moving up to sign his own contract but taking the time to read the whole thing. So long as there does not seems to be anything nefarious about it then he signs before heading inside.
Taking his time to walk though the large room. Watching people gamble, drink, flirt, and seemingly revel themselves out of all their gold. This will not be a night for drinking until I have either won or lost.
Orendel rolls his eyes as he clomps into the Gold Goblin. The music, the waitresses' costumes, the decorations, all of it screamed "tacky" to him. But then, almost any frippery was tacky to a man like him. And in all honesty, he didn't look very dignified himself, with a tattered tabard and a torn cloth tied to his poleaxe like a lady's token. He scratches his hard-lined, stubbly face as he approaches the doorman. He signs the contract and plunks his last gold sail down. He wasn't really here to play anyway, but to watch.
He took a look around at the bouncers that wove their way through the hall. The way their eyes shifted constantly and their eagerness to finger their weapons was one he'd seen all too often among recruits back home. Hell, he'd BEEN like that a few years ago. He tousles his bright blond hair with one hand as he makes his way to the bar, noticing at least one girl there wasn't wearing a costume.
He checks to see if there are any snacks or complimentary drinks. He hadn't eaten all afternoon.
Orendel dusts his torn tabard off as he looks about.
You both correctly identify the caged creature to be an imp.
Those of you have signed falsely, hesitantly, or just outright refused are still allowed entry as long as the entrance fee was paid (as it was), though those who don't "play along" with the gambling tournament's theme receive a frown from the front clerk. There doesn't seem to be anything magical about the contract, and in fact, some of the mythos of demons and devils are conflicting, making it really just a formality.
Soon, twilight is upon you and employees begin to enter the building carrying torches shaped like pitchforks skewering burning heads made of straw and cloth. They go around and light the braziers and soon a short man climbs to the central podium, accompanied by two gorgeous "succubi." 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 key. Each of you hear murmurs in the crowd, and discover that the man is Saul Vancaskerkin, the owner of the Gold Goblin and host of the tournament.
"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."
There's a few catcalls and laughter in the crowd.
"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."
Saul dramatically gestures to the birdcage, causing the creature known as Old Scratch to furiously bang and claw at the cars, spitting and howling.While some people are genuinely unnerved by the performance, others seem to enjoy the theatrics and a few even applaud.
"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.
Appearance // Current Mood: Paranoid //
'This is ridiculous.' She thought to herself as the gimped man gave his speech. Having see what she had from Chelix, she could not understand for a second why someone would want to make a game out of this. She felt heart heart begin to race with every word, racking her mind and her senses to try and discern the validity of the mans words, or if it was all for show. The Imp was real, could everything else possibly be real too?
Never the less the priest muttered a small prayer as she eventually found herself at a table with Several other people. Looking around she decided that the boy was probably not coming, and she should make the most of the night while she still could. Clearing her though and adjusting her posture, she brushed her white hair with her hands. Sin waited to hear the name of the game, not wanting to set a bad impression with the others at her table.
OOC: I would prefer to play some games, but am OK with just advancing the story as well.
Watching Saul work the crowd with a wide grin on his face despite the allusions to Hell and the foolishness of mortals. We really are a dumb creature. Well this should at least be fun. Pity that I can only get one of those Devils Marks.
Moving along to a table and sitting. Brilliant! That temperamental on is here. Offering his companions for the beginnings of the festivities a wide smile, "Well I suppose should all introduce ourselves. So we know who is taking our chance at the gold. My name is Dougal Fairbairn."
The saucy tiefling at the table leans forward on her elbows and says, "Cherry. That's my name, I mean. I'm not one of the staff, despite the appearance." The tip of her long tail flips up, then disappears below her chair again. "Knucklebones, anyone? I'm not the luckiest gal, but maybe you'll win something betting against the shooter." She quirks her lips and adds, "No Devil's Mark, I'm afraid, though. You'll have to get that from one of the other ladies of the night."
Grinning at Cherry, "But that mark would be far more enjoyable than loosing gold. And getting one from you would not get me kicked out either."
"That's why this whole event is set up this way, though, see? Gambling is exciting because maybe you win or maybe you lose, but you have the thrill. So all this set dressing just plays into that idea that maybe you can win really big and maybe you can lose really big - but not for real; I mean, these contracts are just for the entertainment. It heightens the thrill. The Devil's Mark is just a consolation prize for those who didn't win big and go home with a succubus on each arm," she says with a broad gesture to the establishment.
"The owner has a pretty good plan."
She gestures to the table and says, "Betting against the shooter usually has better odds... but then, you don't know how good I am. Unlike dice, knucklebones is a game of some skill."
"Or does the table want to try a different game?"
"Ah," the witch responds to Silvio's correction with all the faux embarrassment of one who has been proven wrong about a topic of little interest. It's clear that the distinction between the Abyss and Hell is not one that she cares to recognize. "But please, call me Syeira, or Miss Istrati if you must. 'Madame Istrati' is how my Nana was known, Desna rest her soul. I may not be in the flower of my youth anymore, but I'm not quite that old yet."
"Of course, of course! I have a poor habit of assuming fortune-tellers are wizened women . . . Syeira." The change seems awkward for Silvio. Fortunately the waitress arrives. "Now where were we, yes, some mead for the lady here, and I'll have some water." He sneaks in his order just in time before Saul Vancaskerkin begins his speech. Seemed like a guy with a flair for the dramatic and for spectacle. Exactly what he hoped to find - being a follower of Abadar was a spectacle around here, and he hoped one that Saul might seize on.
But for now, there was gambling to do. Silvio scouts around for a destination, and his eyes land on the tiefling. "Now there's a Devil you could really sell your soul to. Come on Ma-- er, Syeira. This'll be interesting."
Silvio fusses over his uniform once more before arriving to the table. "Dougal, is it? And Cherry? Well then, I'm Silvio, and this is Miss Syeira Istrati. And if it's dice we're playing, I'd recommend you all bet with the shooter. With Cherry here, I'm thinking we'll have the luck to can Cheat the Devil tonight!"
"So long as we're trading introductions, the name's Orendel. Orendel Kellon. Not really a betting man myself. I've barely any coin left from the entrance fee as it is and I'd rather not starve tonight."
He notices Silvio's large book and snorts a bit.
"Didn't expect to find a man of the key in this place."
Not a woman who is easily surprised, Syeira's eyebrows nonetheless hike up toward her hairline at what she can only interpret as an innuendo from her straight-laced companion. "Why Silvio, you do surprise. I wouldn't have thought her your type," she says as an aside, her lips curved into a coy smile. The card reader raises her mug in salutation as Silvio makes their introductions before taking her seat toward the outside of the table.
"Oh, the boys always like a woman who's a little dangerous, and what's more dangerously tempting than the pleasures of Hell?" says Cherry with a wink.
Appearance // Current Mood: Relaxing //
Hearing the other's give their introductions helped calm the priests nerves. These were all just regular people, all here to play some games. Not everything had to be so sinister, perhaps this was all just for show. "My name is Sindorah, you can call me Sin. I'm unfamiliar with the rules of knuckle bones. How would we play?" As the girl spoke her voice entirely betrayed her age. Sin glanced from person to person at the table. She decided to begin the games now, pushing a front to the others of an innocent girl swept up in all of this. Her ruse would not be hard to believe, as it was nearly the truth of the situation.
Orendel frowns at Sindorah a bit. The girl looked to be a good ten years younger than him.
"Aren't you a little young to be dicing, lass?"
Appearance // Current Mood: Relaxing //
"Well nobody said anything as I came in. Besides if we want to leave we have to play right?" Sin smiled at Orendel. So far the man seemed to be a bit of a stick in the mud, but just as she was playing a roll, he could be too.
"I was hustling dice games in back alleys when I was fourteen, because it was a better way to kept myself fed than turning tricks. So I'd say anyone's game," says Cherry,
"All right, knucklebones is pretty simple, it's just a matter of tossing the bones in the air and catching them on the back of your hand. The way the bones are shaped, there are only a few ways they can land - the thin side bending out is worth one point, the wide side bending out is three, the wide part that curves inward is four, and the narrow part that bends inward is six. You throw five bones in the air and try to catch them on the back of your hand and score based on how they fall. Each player throws once and the player with the highest total score wins."
"But, I don't know if that game is on offer here, as it's not something that the house can control easily... more likely they'll throw hazard, which is a dice game. It's a bit complicated if you're not used to those kinds of games. I could teach you how it's played if you like. Or I could play against the house, there are opportunities to bet there, too."
"You'd share your winnings with a pack of strangers? Generous." Orendel replies, looking genuinely surprised.
He also regards Sindorah.
"Not exactly lookin' to leave myself. Ran out of coin getting to this city, so I need work to get more, and not much work for my particular skillset outside knocking heads and barking threats. Hoping a place that's cleaned up as much as this has reputed to'll be a better source of employment than some crime-lord. You lot'd probably know more than I do, being local and all."
"Pff, I'm not splitting my winnings," says Cherry. "You can bet for or against the shooter in either game, so you have your own chance to win. Betting against the shooter in hazard is actually pretty good odds, but not the best way to make friends, if you catch my drift."
"Sorry," Orendel says, throwing up a hand.
"Misunderstood. Like I said, not much of a betting man."
A strapping young man steps up to your table, his status as an employee shown by the shoddy horns placed on his head and the Gold Goblin Pin in his vest. He smiles as brings out a cup of dice, and does some fancy tricks, aiming to dazzle you and let you relax and enjoy the games as well as the show he's putitng on.
"Now!" he says bumps the table hard with his fist, shooint dice each your way. "Who's ready to curse your luck!?"
Appearance // Current Mood: Flustered // Gold: -7g 9s(remaining 2g 6s 8c)
Sin watched and listened the others, they mostly seemed like a good lot. She still had a few reservations, but before she could really speak or respond the dealer made his way to the table. The young priest could not help but feel her cheeks heat up, this boy was cute, even with his gaudy horns. Listening to him explain the rules of play, she almost missed the die being rolled to her. Her heart racing she took the dice and gave them a roll. "Milani guide my hand." Sin muttered the prayer, then tested her luck. She stared off small, then decided to toy with the numbers, before making a large investment.
Keeping quiet and watching his current companions. Grinning at the dealer I am going to regret this I am sure.
Silvio had seen others do this sort of thing, but didn't do it much himself. "Let's see, um, how does this work again?" He picks up some dice and sets it to double sixes, then holds it out to Syeira. "Blow on these for some luck?" Then he begins rolling. 1g bets each.
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Orendel places his bets with a shrug. If I'm going to gamble, I might as well make a decent showing of it. Can't have these folks thinking I'm timid or something. His bets are pretty consistent in size, a single gold sail each time.
Syeira makes an appreciate sound at the appearance of their table's croupier and gives generous applause at his demonstration, but for all his charm, the Harrower nonetheless waves off the cup of dice when it's offered to her. "I've had a hard enough time of keeping my coin in this Desna-forsaken city without giving it away willing." At Silvio's request, the witch leans closer and blows on the dice. But it isn't until the his last roll of the dice that she weaves her Fortune hex over him, shooting the inquisitor a sharp look over the rim of her mug.
Cherry chuckles at the nervous newcomers and plays a few rounds of low-stakes hazard.
She flags down one of the succubi and acquires a mug of rum. "Everyone having some fun?"
.
On the last roll, Silvio watches the dice rest on an edge for a moment, but in the end, it lands poorly. "At least I had a good start," He says, consoling himself.
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Grinning over at Cherry, "But of course. I am burning though me coin and I have delightful company. What more could a man ask for?"
Watching the last dice rolled with a grin, "Sin and Orendel seem to be the lucky ones this time. Do no feel bad my friend. Luck is a fickle creature."
Appearance // Current Mood: Excited //
Watching her dice and comparing it to the others, "I'm not sure, but did I win?" she asked, looking around at the others after Dougal's comment, then finally turning her attention to the dealer.
Orendel actually smiles a bit.
"Aye, it seems so lass. And I seem to have done well myself."
He slides his winnings towards him.
"So...you folks local? Tell me a bit about yourselves. I've been on the road so long I haven't really had a chance to meet people."
Ignoring his bad dice rolls and opting to for the better alternative. "I have lived here a few years now. I have a bit of a sweet tooth and I loath being bored."
Smiling at Orendel, "May I ask why you have been on the road and why you came here?"
Gambling Results
Name: Sindorah
Round 1: Big Win. 2sp
Round 2: Loss... -2sp
Round 3: Minor Loss. -2sp
Round 4: Win. 4sp
Round 5: Break Even.
Round 6: Jackpot! 55 gp
Total: 62 gp 8 sp
Name: Dougal
Round 1: Minor Loss. -1sp
Round 2: Bust! -9sp
Round 3: Bust! -5sp
Round 4: Bust -5sp
Round 5: Minor Loss. -1sp
Round 6: Minor Loss. -5sp
Total: -8 sp
Name: Silvio
Round 1: Minor Win. 2 sp
Round 2: Break even.
Round 3: Break even.
Round 4: Break even.
Round 5: Bust! -1gp
Round 6: Bust!-1gp
Total: -8 sp
Name: Orendell
Round 1: Break even.
Round 2: Big win. 1gp
Round 3: Break even.
Round 4: Bust! -1gp
Round 5: Jackpot! 11gp
Round 6: Minor loss. -2 sp.
Total: 14gp 8 sp
Name: Cherry
Round 1: Bust! -1sp
Round 2: Bust! -1sp
Round 3: Big Win. 1sp
Round 4: Bust! -1sp
Round 5: Bust! -1sp
Round 6: Bust! -1sp
Total: -4 sp
===============================
The luck seems to falter around this table at first, and as the time passes you find that less and less are returning to your pockets. Some gamblers have taken to spectating, having already made enough for their qualifying round, and are now watching possible contenders.
There's not much excitement at first....but then.
Sindorah flips her dice and reveals...
Jackpot!
There's a stream of cursing cheering, as a large pile of golden tokens are passed in Sindorah's direction.
Silvio shakes his head as he rolls. "The fates themselves cannot change my luck it seems, perhaps it's time to concede I won't win this tournament." He is clearly done with gambling.
But Sindorah's victory garners Silvio's applause. "Nicely done, you're a natural it seems."
"Ah, easy go," says Cherry. "Yes, I'm from Riddleport," she says in answer to Orendel. "Heck of a city. But where else would a girl like me go?" Her tail crooks up almost like a question mark before swaying distractingly back and forth behind her head. She leans back after her final loss and tugs at the bottom of her demi-corset. "Honestly, this is just an opportunity to find more work," she admits. "I'm quite a hand at slinging drinks, and I've helped out around a few flophouses. When a new place opens up, that's the best time to get in on the ground floor and earn a secure spot."
Turning to Silvio, "But the night has just begun! You cannot give up so quickly. Fate is fickle and sometimes we must provide her entertainment before we earn her favor."
Smiling at Sindorah, "You are quiet the luck creature tonight. Well done beautiful."
Silvio's veneer of indifference gives way to a frown as Dougal presses the issue. "Bah, I thought I might have an edge on the house, but I'm not giving them any more of my coin. In fact, I want them to give me some coin the old fashioned way. I'm in need of a job too. Though if Cherry here's my competition . . ." his gaze lingers as Cherry adjusts her corset, "let's just say I'm pretty sure I know who Vancaskerkin is gonna hire first."
Appearance // Current Mood: Excited // Gold: 73g 3s 8c
Watching the dice land as they may the crowd around her began erupting into applause and cheers. Sin was unsure of exactly how well she had done until the gold was slid in front of her, "By Milani's grace!" the priest exclaimed in excitement. Grinning from ear to ear the young girl excited began to jitter and shake, needing to rise from her seat and move, "Thank you Mr. Silvo, Mr. Dougal. I'm sorry luck was not with you as it was with me." As is custom for a winner, Sin was offered all sorts of drinks and she couldn't help but accept one of them. The cocktail was very elaborate. Sin had never drank before, but in the haze of excitement she was already drinking by the time she realized it.
Cherry notices Silvio's attention and says, "I don't always dress like this for work - I just wanted to fit in with the theme so I'd give the impression that I already belong here. It's a risk - sure, a tiny corset can get you a gig, but it can also get you a handsy boss." She shrugs. "Besides, places like this need door guards, too. You see how many drunk people there are in here? Some of them are gonna be mean drunks or lecherous drunks, and that means punchin'."
Ignoring his bad dice rolls and opting to for the better alternative. "I have lived here a few years now. I have a bit of a sweet tooth and I loath being bored."
Smiling at Orendel, "May I ask why you have been on the road and why you came here?"
Orendel sighs.
"Long story short, I'm legally dead in Molthune and I hate Nirmathas. Not many places to go but through the Bloodsworn Vale. As for why I'm here, specifically? Korvosa's closed. Something about a plague."
"Ah, easy go," says Cherry. "Yes, I'm from Riddleport," she says in answer to Orendel. "Heck of a city. But where else would a girl like me go?" Her tail crooks up almost like a question mark before swaying distractingly back and forth behind her head. She leans back after her final loss and tugs at the bottom of her demi-corset. "Honestly, this is just an opportunity to find more work," she admits. "I'm quite a hand at slinging drinks, and I've helped out around a few flophouses. When a new place opens up, that's the best time to get in on the ground floor and earn a secure spot."
"Sounds like we're here for the same reason, then. You've got more skill than me, though. I'm just a soldier without an army..." he trails off, frowning a bit.
At Orendel's response Dougal opens his mouth and closes it without speaking. Cocking his head to the side and staring at him for a moment, "I am sure the details on how you are legally dead are fascinating. They usually are."
Then the solider says more causing Dougal to raise an eyebrow while looking around, "Hmm, I happen to be looking for new employment as well."
Turning his gaze back to the girl with the luck, "Sin would happen to be looking for work too? That would make all of us then."
"Huh, go figure. I walk into a den of gamblers and find a bunch of folks looking for honest work. Gambling luck aside, I'd say Abadar smiles on me today." Silvio's spirits seem to have rebalanced to normal again.
Silvio chimes in with his thoughts on Orendel's story. "A legally dead soldier of Molthune? A few weeks ago, I'd have connected you to the Riddleport Gendarmes. If you're an army man, you'd do well there. Lots of mercenary sorts, but you can find a properly disciplined unit or two if you try hard enough. But I've lost my sway there. Anyway, you're gonna have to tell your tale. It's not every day I get to talk to a dead man."
Appearance // Current Mood: Buzzed //
The drink had gotten to the girls head quickly. Listening to the others chat she had become red in the face, swaying back and froth in her chair. Once the questions came as to why Sin was here, she was not in a state to not answer. "No, I'm not here specifically looking for work. I was supposed to meet this stupid boy but he bailed on me... Though i do suppose a job here wouldn't be to bad. They could make me look cute like Ms. Cherry." The girl was of course lying, well, mostly lying. Sin had come here to investigate the rumors reg-guarding the devils play here. In most cases it would just be poor taste, but Sin had seen first hand what Devil worshipers are capable of, and would not stand idly by to see it happen. Because of her great hate for the Fiendish, she had actually been avoiding Cherry all night, though the others may not have noticed.
Oh dear she is getting smashed rather quick. Smiling at the young girl, "That would be quiet the sight though you are beautiful in your own right. And that boy who bailed on you was a fool."