Tordek looks to the burly guards and back at the assembled motley he's now a part of. Leaning over to Tipene he says, as quietly as he can muster So, what's the likelihood we come out with any more coin than we're going in with, eh? Need some scratch for a bit of rum, right? With that, the gruff dwarf waits for a signal from the members of the entourage more familiar with the town to lead the way.
Bloody cities, teeming with filth and fetid air. It'll be nice to be on the waves again soon. Hopefully in the early AM, provided we can find some rum. He thinks to himself as he starts casting his eyes around to make sure they aren't still under observation.
Tordek gets a definite sense of careful observance... but in this instance it's relatively easy to single it out to the guards and patrols of the casino before him. They appear to be both serious about, and good at their jobs.
Quillin flicks his tricorne at the bouncers as he enters, smiling and patting his pockets. Inside, he distributes the chips evenly to his companions. "Only one way to find out," he bounces his long blue eyebrows at Tordek.
Tordek lets the chips click around in his hand as he looks around the hall, trying to spot a game he could try a bit of luck at.
"Oh this should be fun." Lysandra says with no sense of sarcasm as she searches out a dice game.
Without any real effort or need for circumspection, Quillin is able to get the poker chips identified as coming from the Sweet Dreams Gambling House. It's a well known gambling house run from Scurvytown. He's also able to assay the worth of the chips at a healthy 142 gold pieces...
The gate, though open, is manned by a few burly looking thugs and any foot traffic bound for the door is frisked and asked to surrender their weapons.
As the group moves forward to attempt to make their way into the Sweet Dreams, they're stopped by the burly thugs manning the gate. A mildly better dressed man smiles and asks "Blades and bludgeons to the side please"
Tordek hands over his sickle and daggers without question. Any chance of a haggard dwarf keeping his walking stick lads? he asks with a quirk of his lip.
Q shrugs and gives up his pair of daggers without compaint.
"Roll dem bones," Smudge mutters from his shoulder perch.
"As long as I get 'em back, I don't see a problem with that." Lysandra says, handing over her weaponry.
The man does nod affirmation that the weapons will be returned, offering each of you a wooden chit by way of evidence.
Tordek's attempt is met with a polite but forceful "No exceptions." as the staff is added to the pile.
Once past the guards the air of menace eases somewhat and is replaced by a very different sense and feeling. A pair of hostesses greet you "Welcome to the Sweet Dreams... pick your poison and we'll see you sated." ushering you through and beyond to the half-scuffed polished wood floor that covers the interior. A wide selection of gaming tables can be seen... dice, cards and roulette all - those against the house and those where the house merely takes a cut. This early of an eve the place isn't packed out - though there is a healthy number of other patrons.
Flagons of ale and cups of wine, float past you on trays borne by serving girls, dressed in scarlet red. In one corner there's a bookie's table, though judging by the lack of activity there isn't much worth gambling on at present. Along one wall is the bar, which has a caged area at it's end where chips and coin are handled.
Ringing the whole room is a second floor that is much more sparsely populated. Looking down upon you are stern faced overseers and watchmen. Workers for the establishment all, no doubt keeping an eye on proceedings.
Smudge draws a few disproving glances, but nothing that's deep enough driven to conjure words.
Tipene leaves off his war club and harpoon, and follows the others in. He'll keep to Quillin's shadow and observe, though, looming over the gnome.
Tordek nods at his companions and breaks off, heading for the card games, looking to find a game against the house.
Smudge keeps his utterances to low click as his head twists back and forth and his beady eyes range over the unfriendly stares. Likewise, Quillin allows Tipene's lurking and makes his way to the dice pits to try his luck.
The Tulita follows Quillin. "Lanteri's crew would blow on their dice for luck. I didn't see that it helped much."
After having her fill of dice games, Lysandra makes her way over toward the others.
"Having any luck?"
Not a bit. Though I've managed to stay even on the night, so that's better than outright loss, I suppose. Tordek says gruffly as he counts the chips in his fingers.
Though most of the party play it relatively close to the chest and keep the bets small and towards an even keel, Quillin draws a bit of a crowd due to both his more extravagant appearance as well as his looser betting style. Waxing and waning initially the gnome runs his stack anaemic before hitting on a freakish run of luck at craps - throwing clean and pure until he's up double of what he put in.
Throughout the gambling you note that the watchers on the upper level take an active and involved interest in goings on, but none of your activities have drawn either an eye or ire of them. Thoughts turn to the ending of the night, and the cashier's cage beckons with the promise of turning your sintered clay into forged coin.
Making your way through the growing press of bodies to the cashier's cage, you proffer your chips for exchange to coins in sequence. The process involves two people on the other side of the bars to cross check each other and weigh our the requisite quantity of sails and skulls. They're efficient and perfunctory in their actions, displaying a cordial but not kind outlook towards you in turn. Those guards that stand nearby similarly show cursory interest, but don't act in any manner to provoke either curiosity or fear.
It's after Quillin's cashed out his winnings (complete with a measured impressed response) that the situation in the casino takes a sudden swerve.
Boiling up from the floorboards and through the passageways leading out of the casino floor comes a fast moving and thick fog - giving a slight chill to the touch and rising turgid and opaque. It takes a span of seconds before the first of the patrons see it and begin to show some degree of panicked concern...
Smudge cackles evilly and makes clinking sounds while Quillin secures his winnings only to hiss at the parrot at the appearance of the creepy fog. He passes fingers over eyes with a mutter to ken its origins.
Growling, Tipene runs for the door (or wherever the party's weapons were checked).
"Smoke and mirrors," the gnome chuckles. "Now what mischief might this be?" He keeps a sharp lookout.
Tordek smiles as the mist rolls in. Pulling out a copper piece, he quickly casts light on it, keeping it clenched in his hand, preventing the light from escaping.
A quick hand flick, and the copper piece is cast across the room, behind Tordek, causing a hazy glowing light in the fog.
Tipene manages to beat the press towards the door with his quick thinking, dashing for where the party's weapons have been interred. In his wake a crush of people follow suit, jamming the path between the cashier's cage and the way out with a press of humanity.
For the rest now pinned in behind a small sea of panicked people you watch Tordek's penny sail into the fog and sink to the floor - where is adds an ominous luminosity to the pea-soup of concealment. The fog rises to just above waist height to a man - or beard height to those of smaller stature. The room roils with chaos and panic - pressing towards the crowded and singular exit, but nothing untoward appears to have yet happened beyond the fog.
"Someone is using magic there, and I want a weapon in hand if they attack. I will wait here, if you are worried about weapons on the floor."
"Well, this is certainly odd. What do you think the cause of this fog is?" Lysandra asks the others before calling out, likely in vain, toward Tipene, "You see anything up there?"
Lysandra calls out over the mob to where Tipene is outside (and out of direct line of sight), but the words are lost in the tumult. Looking instead to the second floor Lysandra sees a growing level of concern on the faces of the casino overseers - frowning faces and gesticulation... but no clear sign of coherent response or understanding.
You find the eyes of the thugs still paying attention to you - but your group's blades and bludgeons are neatly corralled and easily retrieved.
[ooc]Just taking your group's weapons? - and intend to agree with the request to stay outside, or seeking a way back past the
Tordek stands up on his toes, looking over the fog that swirls around his beard.
Look fast all! Pirates under the mist! There! he yells, trying to point to where he saw the man sink below the mists.
"Well, this is certainly odd. What do you think the cause of this fog is?"
Quillin snorts, "Clearly, an obscuring spell. I thought your type was supposed to know things."
"Hey, this way. Think I saw something. Tipene, hurry up!" The gnome grabs Lysandra's sleeve and pulls her toward the curiously falling gent.
"Where'd he go?" Smudge croaks softly.
Outside on the Other Side of the Press - Tipene:
Weapons in hand, you're faced with a bifold issue - one, that there is a crowd of people between you and the others... and two, that there remain casino hired thugs o'erwatching that may take offense at your looking to enter the building with blades and bludgeons.
Inside - the Remainder:
Moving across the floor that's now mostly empty of personnel, you reach where you saw the man disappear below the fog. It yet remains, turgid and thick - blocking any ability to see either the floor or what might be low lying and near to it...
Tordek moves cautiously through the fog, sweeping his feet in front of him, never breaking contact with the floor. The words of a spell sit heavy on his lips, unvoiced.
Lysanda follows Tordek's lead, staying relatively close behind the dwarven druid.
Quillin stops. Ah, where's my mind?" He begins a summoning spell.
Tordek begins to move methodically forward sweeping his feet. He kicks a number of dropped glasses (he thinks) and hears scattering chips... once something hard - but a dropped hand proves it was just a chair. Slow and steady he's about 5-10 feet from where the man disappeared when Quillin's summoned elemental creature appears.
The gnome points at the fog ahead of the dwarf. "Er, clear the decks like." He blows out of his mouth, sticks his finger in the air spinning it and then makes waving motions with both hands to signify clearing the haze.
Tipene snarls at the guard, "I need to get to my mates! Let me pass!" Seeing that the guards are unmoved, he softens his tone. "You can search me on the way out."
Tipene:
The thug looks over his shoulder for a moment, before turning back and sneering "You ain't goin in with them cutters. Just a bit of mist is all, now bugger orf"
Within:
Tordek finds his foot suddenly exposed!... as Quillin's summoned friend begins to whir in imitation of the gnome's pantomime. The whirlwind sucks at the nearby fog - clearing it and dispersing it in a radius of a good 15-20 feet and providing some degree of clarity. Apart from the expected detritus, spilled drinks, overturned tables and the like - there are a few key items that draw your attention.
Across the floor are streaks of brownish black muck... as though something filthy had been crawling through the casino. The number of trails suggests more than just a single creature too. The second is a small pool of blood that trails off into the mist from where you saw the man disappear. A cleared area along the path suggests that the man was dragged away.
Quillin directs the whirling wind creature toward the wall and rubs a bit of leather between his fingers conjuring a warding force around him.
Tordek's eyes flit over the revealed scene. They settle on the trails, he racks his mind, trying to figure out what could have made that type of trail and what the muck actually is.
Tordek looks over the gunge and seems fairly certain that it's from the sewers, or somewhere similarly coated in faecal matter and grime. Quillin's summoned beastie swirls through the mist and reveals just swiftly enough a retreating figure dragging the dropped man into a side corridor. The creature is six feet tall and built muscular, though slender. Naked though covered in grime, sh1t and muck... and scales the creature has the head of a snake upon a slender elongated scaled neck.
And just like that it slides around the corner and out of view...
Tipene:
Though the thug is there, you wager that with a bit of a shove and deployment of your elbows you could force your way back inside. The thugs would be able to follow, sure - but they might be momentarily held back by the crowd of people.
"Sounds like there's more of our snake-like friends in here." Lysandra says, pointing in the direction of the hissing noise.
Lysandra then begins to try and make her way toward Tipene in hopes of retrieving her weaponry.
The Tulita puts his head down and shoves his way through the crowd, throwing elbows as needed.