So this is where it begins...
17 (!), 13, 12, 12, 12, 9
Happy with that!
Rolling for starting gold...
oops that's 5d6 x 10, not + 10!!!
so he's actually got 250 gold
I'm not surprised you're happy with that!
I shall roll soon!
I'm not surprised you're happy with that!
Since I went with a two-weapon build I had to dump a 12 on CON and offset it with Toughness... so I could've used a 14, say, instead of one of those 12s. But I ain't gonna complain!
asmodeus guide my hand!
Woah! 11 13 12 18 17 13
Lets PAWDY
That's a 14,16,16,11,13,18
I'm pretty happy with that
GM has no problems with a Goblin Wizard I hope?
Sh!tballs. That's some rolls.
I have no problems with a Goblin Wizard.
Nuts!
Cheeky question, but can I get +2 to another stat since my boy's been so out-rolled?
Would bump my average up from 12.5 > 12.83
vs. Mikey avg 14
Chris avg 14.67
Mainly just offset the slight weakness in CON so I can trade Toughness back and choose a feat that actually develops the character concept.
I know I SAID I wasn't gonna complain, but then I saw these other guys roll...
Not gonna sulk if denied though.
Sure. Take the +2.
yey!
Any ideas why this isn't showing up in my campaigns? Do I have to do something to join? Do you need to invite me?
Also. Since we enjoy our leveling up stories so much I wonder whether we should do something similar to introduce our characters and put some context around the skill and feat choices we have made?
You could just read the background I wrote for Stegg Crickholler. But I feel like the PCs should be a little more mysterious to each other to start with (unless we establish that they have known each other for a while pre-story). Maybe share that kinda stuff later.
We starting at level one yeah? Or level 2 eh eh eh?
Also, If we are all from the Cockerals gang perhaps, would be choice. Maybe we all got out of the cells or the drunk tank and missed all the action.
Or maybe Nyx and I are summoned old cronies, called to Woodenhead after the Beaverlodge massacre...It would be cool I reckon if we're already aquaintences...eg "Remember that r&r in Stygia?" "Oh yeah the girl with the big adams apple?" "Thats the one haw haw!"
We starting at level one yeah? Or level 2 eh eh eh?
LEVEL ONE, MR GEEPS! I thought about starting you off at level 0, but it just seemed like a hassle. Level 1’s all good.
The party should be powerful enough. In terms of abilities, Stegg is somewhere between ‘Heroic’ and ‘Epic’ (23 ability points), while Nyx and Gidzy are both well epic (with 39 and 45 respectively). (See the Ability Scores Costs chart.)
Any ideas why this isn't showing up in my campaigns?
That would be operator error on the part of the GM.
Do I have to do something to join? Do you need to invite me?
I've got you listed as a player now, so let me know if there are still problems and I’ll do more trouble-shooting.
In terms of background:
Throw together a character, and we’ll see what happens. Keep me posted. I’d love to see some character sheets through email.
I’m with Doggziller—mysterious backgrounds are all good, unless you guys know each other from back in the day. He has given me a detailed background, which I am happy to work with.
If you other two want to throw together some backgrounds, that would be choice. You can make detailed backgrounds, as Murray did, and throw them through to me, either as you go or in one fell swoop at the end. Or you could make vague backgrounds, and we’ll cobble stuff together collaboratively. Or you could work together and develop a shared background, and throw it through to me when you’re done. Or whatever.
(We should probably have a bit of a chat about the origin of Nyx this afternoon, M. Jaguar, but we can chat about that this afternoon.)
It looks to me that Stegg and Nyx are likely to have separate backgrounds, and I look forward to throwing together the way in which you guys meet. I might be missing something, though, and if you guys know each other from back in the day that would be cool, too. I’ve got no idea what Gidzy will be, except that the avatar looks like a half-elf. Maybe. A goblin, a half-orc and a half-elf makes for some really cool plot-lines, especially if you’re not evil, so that looks groovy.
When I get the backgrounds for Nyx and Gidzy I’ll just lever it all together, organise the backgrounds into a coherent narrative, and plan a meeting, adventure paths, and some encounters... I’ve already got ideas and stuff, but it does depend on those other two.
Gidzy is a she-dwarf! All the avatar pictures for she-dwarves are horrendous rosy cheeked stereotypes.
Have had a look at Goblin Alchemists and they look like a lot of fun. Fire! Explosions! Mayhem!
This archetype effectively makes you a Pokemon Master!
Rolling for gold
OK, that's 150gp. I'm gonna try and craft some alchemical stuff and potions. Can you give me a timeframe in days that I have to make this stuff?
Also check out this cool elixir I can make - instant party!
I'd think the limiting factor would be your starting gold rather than time... brewing is effectively just a 50% discount on buying.
I'd think the limiting factor would be your starting gold rather than time... brewing is effectively just a 50% discount on buying.
It's technically a 66% discount but with a chance of failure, causing more money to be spent. I guess with unlimited time a 50% discount is reasonable. At any rate, a lot of it will be the stuff he salvaged from his masters stock rather than stuff he brewed himself.
Pretty much just gonna make some alchemist fire, acid flasks and maybe a pot CLW if I can afford it.
Hey I've changed my name to Ghidorah "Dizzy" Deepe, sounds more dwarvish bastard name styles bro ... Hope that's all choice , got 6 months at least
till we start playin...
As I wish to multiclass with Dizzy, barbarian/martial artist(monk), I hope its ok that Im level 1 barb to start with, representing her getting out of jail after a long stint, maybe manacle scars have greatly diminished her monk skills.
If she survives till level 2 im hoping for her to be all "Oh thats right, I know how to do a karate kick and hoon on the nunchukkers."
i hope thats not too tall a request...the whole idea of her martial epiphany...
Also, whats the opinion on multiclass archetypes? does it really matter if both classes have archetype attributes? eg hulking rager1/martial artist1?
Rolling for starting gold! using monk wealth stat due to jail time... x10!
1d6 ⇒ 1 x10!
Mwahahaha! Poifect! 10 'geeps!
I guess with unlimited time a 50% discount is reasonable.
Nyx scavenged what he could from his master’s lab; this is a mix of ingredients and finished products. This is your wealth by level. There is a cost attached to substantial failure in making products, and by my calculations this makes it pretty dicey at DC25 that Nyx would profit in any time-frame. On the other hand, DC 15 products are straightforward if you have the time—which you do. So:
DC15 and below items are 33% cost.DC20 items are 66%.
DC25+ items are full price.
If there’s a problem with this, let me know.
Whats the opinion on multiclass archetypes? does it really matter if both classes have archetype attributes? eg hulking rager1/martial artist1?
Mixing archetypes is dandy. If you get too unbalanced I’ll figure something out, but there’s usually a price to pay.
I cannot find a ‘Hulking Rager’ archetype lying around. Is this what you were thinking of?
I hope its ok that Im level 1 barb to start with, representing her getting out of jail after a long stint, maybe manacle scars have greatly diminished her monk skills.
That’s fine. The details are yours to develop. Perhaps she was mentored in prison, but never got to practise?
I cannot find a ‘Hulking Rager’ archetype lying around. Is this what you were thinking of?
it was just a conjured example, i've no thoughts on using a barbarian archetype as yet, was just wondering about yer opinions
I guess with unlimited time a 50% discount is reasonable.Nyx scavenged what he could from his master’s lab; this is a mix of ingredients and finished products. This is your wealth by level. There is a cost attached to substantial failure in making products, and by my calculations this makes it pretty dicey at DC25 that Nyx would profit in any time-frame. On the other hand, DC 15 products are straightforward if you have the time—which you do. So:
DC15 and below items are 33% cost.
DC20 items are 66%.
DC25+ items are full price.
Ok, done. Will have to get some more dough to start brewing pots of CLW I guess.
My understanding of Goblins in our game world is that they are not straight out evil as they are in the canon Pathfinder books, but are just another race, albeit with some very negative stereotypes. Maybe Gypsies is a good analogue?
My understanding of Goblins in our game world is that they are not straight out evil as they are in the canon Pathfinder books, but are just another race, albeit with some very negative stereotypes. Maybe Gypsies is a good analogue?
Sounds good to me. I reckon that alignment's hokey enough without adding intrinsically evil races.
I would expect a lot of prejudice, and goblins generally to be pretty ghettoised.
On top of the reputation for crime and general scamming that gypsies are associated with, goblins are small, ugly, and are often co-opted by bad dudes (including their own bosses) to do some pretty heinous deeds.
Amongst the general population, there would be a range of responses, mostly from barely tolerated to reviled ("I can't stand the little blighters since I lost my father in the Goblin Wars...").
Will have to get some more dough to start brewing pots of CLW I guess.
To confirm, because I hadn't addressed potions:
Unless I’m mistaken, Nyx could take 10 to craft a potion with caster level 1. The DC for brewing potions is 5 + caster level. You can, therefore, use your starting wealth to make potions of spells you know at half price (25 GP!).
I think this was your understanding, but I'd rather be totally clear.
Will have to get some more dough to start brewing pots of CLW I guess.To confirm, because I hadn't addressed potions:
Unless I’m mistaken, Nyx could take 10 to craft a potion with caster level 1. The DC for brewing potions is 5 + caster level. You can, therefore, use your starting wealth to make potions of spells you know at half price (25 GP!).
I think this was your understanding, but I'd rather be totally clear.
Yep - Spent my dough on flasks of Acid and Alchemist fire instead!
Stepping from the ferry onto the crude stone steps by the riverside, Dizzy looked back and nodded to the ferryman. Halewynn winked, tumbling the copper over his grubby fingers and beaming a greasy brown-toothed smile at the shabby Dwarf.
She proceeded with her slow measured pace, up along the muddy stepping stones of the riverbank, more impatient travellers muttering and trudging around her.
She still felt strange without the iron manacles around her feet, and was ever aware of her balance, feeling like she was any minute to ascend into the sky like a dry leaf in the wind.
After a long minute, she reached the top of the riverbank and took in her new surroundings. Woodenhead was not an old town, many of its ramshackle buildings constructed from unplaned wood, and others fashioned from scraps of Darkwood, teetering out over the muddy streets at hazardous angles. People trudged through the muddy market square hauling sacks of kumaras, haunches of strange meats and wagons of rusty tools.
Dizzy looked up to the hillock that loomed over the rest of the town, a opressive black gate broke up a large and formidable Darkwood wall that surrounded what no doubt would be the hearths of the well to do's. She hissed air through her teeth in disdain, always would the rich priotize themselves over the wellbeing of the simplefolk.
She proceeded to step through the sticky muck towards a large tavern across the market square, its facade dominated by a crudely painted wooden crab.
The mud sucked at her feet like a hungry babe seeking a pink tit, she became frustrated and tried to walk a bit faster, only managing to pull one of her jandals apart with the effort.
"Mother of Caiden!" She cursed and walked with bare feet to the verandah of the tavern, where she sat down upon the rough wooden planks.
As she screwed her face up and began rethreading her jandal, she noticed a large sweaty fellow standing nearby on the taverns deck, slaving away at some cooked on filth within a big black cauldron.
"Hey mate!" She shouted to the greasy chap who looked up at her and wiped his brow with his filthy dishcloth, leaving a brown streak across his forehead, "You the owner of this joint?"
Chett laughed and resumed his scrubbing, "Nah, this here's Mungo's place, like on the sign."
"Yeah, well I cant read your damn sign, so tell me where I can find this Mungo." Sparked the barbarian.
Looking up from his duties for a moment, Chett seemed to study the Dwarf, all attitude and filthy rags. "He's inside, he'll be the guy who aint wearing no pants."
Dizzy screwed up her face in confusion, but after placing her now fixed jandal back on her foot she entered the saloon.
The interior of the Rueful Crab was a dark smoky cavern, a rickety staircase at one end, and a raised stage at the other, surrounded by grubby blue curtains.
Against one wall, halfway down the large room, was a bar backed by a huge carapace of a giant river crab, bottles and elixirs precariously balanced on its legs which extended out to either end of the bar.
Glancing around at the few degenerates who sat about gambling or in catatonic stupors, she saw a pair of pants on everyone and thus clenched her fist. She thought about returning to the verandah to teach that cheeky dishpig a lesson when she saw, perched atop the bar, on a plush red cushion, a wiry man with teak coloured skin. The man seemed to lack the lower half of his body, yet seemed to have no lack of confidence because of it.
"Hello there missy," Waved Mungo, as he threw a peanut up and caught it deftly in his mouth, "you look like a weary traveller who could do with a whistle wetter!"
She felt drawn to this friendly fellow, who's kind eyes seemed to know no discrimination of caste or race, and emanated a comforting familiar warmth. She approached the bar and took to a stool by the halfman.
"Aye, I'll take a whisky sir," she produced from her pouch a silver and pinned it to the polished bar with her thumb, "and a word or two if you've got them."
Mungo hopped onto his wide gnarly hands and with no apparent effort grabbed a bottle from the leg of the huge crustacean. Eyeing the silver he sat back on his cushion and poured a shot,
"Well miss, Ive got a lot of words, but which ones are you after?" He handed the glass to Dizzy, "No doubt you want to know about the Wyvern, and the dungeons up north...I fear you might be a bit late lassy, theres been souls trudging off into the hills for the last few weeks..."
She hit the whisky back and slid the coin over to the barkeep, "Its a who that Im after...a halforc by the name of Ogden. Im told he been roaming these streets hereabouts." she carefully placed the shotglass back infront of her.
Mungo hesitated a moment, his glacial blue eyes seemed to pierce deep and measure Dizzy's motives. "Who would be asking now?" He refilled her glass, the coin remained in front of him.
"Im an old friend, I've been away for some time, I heard he was 'working' somewhere around here..." Taking the glass, she nursed it in her hand a moment.
"Miss, I dont know what you want with that bloke, and frankly it aint my business..." Mungo poured himself a glass, and gestured it toward the dwarf before shooting it back with ease " but the fella you seek, word is he thought to impose himself over some that didnt care much for his attention...and got himself perished for his foolishness." Once again Mungo held her in his striking blue gaze.
Dizzy shot back the whisky and held it out for a refill "You're sure of this? He's gone beyond?"
Pouring the whisky once more, Mungo gravely nodded. "Aye lass, this heres a small town, and these shabby walls cant keep out a cool wind let alone keep in a ripe secret. He's been gone a wee while now, and Im afraid he didnt have much of a reputation that would make the lad too sorely missed." Dizzy shot back the new whisky and stared at the bottom of the empty glass. Mungo placed a gnarled and knotty hand over hers before continuing, "But if he were a friend of yours, then Im sorry for your loss." The old pirate pushed the silver back to her with his free hand.
" Thanks for your honesty mate, you keep the coin now, and I'll take the bottle if you please."
Mungo handed her the bottle and gave her a sad smile. "You be carefull miss, this aint a good town for rash outbursts."
Dismounting the barstool, she saluted Mungo with the half empty bottle and made her way back out onto the verandah. Sighing, she sat again down on the step, with her feet in the mud. Dizzy looked about the townsfolk going about their business and took a deep swig of the booze.
That were right beautiful
It was very brisk that evening, and the wind blew a chill over the muddied town square. Dizzy awoke from her drunken slumber, and huddled up in her rags to keep warm on the porch of 'The Rueful Crab'.
There was still glowing lanterns and faint voices coming from inside, so Dizzy imagined it couldn't be all that late, though it really didnt matter too much to the dishevelled Dwarf woman.
The bottle of cheap rotgut lay empty in the mud, Dizzy still felt the slight buzz of the cheap hooch but couldnt summon the strength to stagger inside for another, so she gathered her knees into her smock and curled up to await morning.
She felt she may have drifted off for not too long when she felt someone gently shaking her shoulder.
"Hey, are you alright?" Said the comforting voice.
Dizzy tried to stretch out but with a cough rolled back to lay out on the rough wooden deck. "Im fine, lea' me alone....Im fine." She tried to pretend to have fallen back asleep but when she comically peeked from one eye the woman sillouhetted by lantern light was still there.
"You're a new one in town aintcha?" said the sweet voice "Wheres abouts you staying sweetie? Here in the pub?"
"Nah im fine, jesh leave me here, I'll be ok." slurred Dizzy as she tried to wave away this new attention.
The strange lady conferred quietly with her companions, Dizzy was sure they were speaking of her and again she quietly lay, awaiting their departure.
Soon the voice was closer, and speaking with an earnest warmth adressed her again, "Girl, you not lookin so great, and this aint the time nor place to be rolling around sh!tfaced in the middle of the night..." Dizzy nodded with drunk compliance "You're gonna come home with me and the gals, sleep in a nice warm bed and you can sort out your sh!t in the morning eh? Does that sound allright?" The stranger gently placed her hand on Ghidorahs head and swept her hair away from her face, Dizzy tried to wriggle away but couldnt help but succumb to the warmth and kindness emanating from this woman.
"Alright, Im getting up, jush lemme get up" She tried to flop up onto her feet but skidded about and almost fell face first into the mud, but several strong arms grabbed her before she succumbed to such misfortune.
She looked around with her glazed eyes at the crew of women standing on the pub's steps. There were a couple of matronly Dwarves, all older than her with kind eyes buried in ruddy smiling faces.
Right next to her, was the lady who had found her lying on the porch, a young tan looking Dwarf with fine straight black hair which she wore up, and she had a strong grip, with which she kept Dizzy from toppling into the filth.
"Im Druzilla, I work in the laundry. This is Ethel and Sabine, my flatmates."
"Diz...*URP!*...Dizzy. Dizzy Deepe."
"Ha! Dizzy by name Dizzy by nature!" Chuckled Sabine
"C'mon Dizzy Deepe, lets get you back home for a nice cuppa rosie eh?" Giggled Druzilla and with help from one of the other maids, Dizzy was helped down the street, around the corner, through the mud,up a steep flight of rickety stairs and into the washerwomens small cozy flat.
She woke to a crows loud "RaaaarK!" outside the window where sun flooded in through flimsy calico curtains. She looked about the room and slowly her memory of the previous night emerged from the sludge of her hangover. She felt very warm and safe in her bed consisting of sacks full of clothes and rags, with a thick orange blanket. She realised her clothes were all missing and she drew the blanket around her nakedness with slight confusion.
"Good morning!" called the woman who was probably Ethel as she strode through the room with a boiling billy in one hand. "Ive been down to the market and got some eggs and blood sausage for breakfast. I imagine you're hungry? Im got some water for the coffee too If you like." She had a smile that split her ruddy creased face as she turned to Dizzy.
"Thank you miss, that'd be great. Sorry....uhhh...where are my clothes and my stuff?"
Without taking herself away from preparing breakfast, Ethel spoke over her shoulder. "Your sack with your stick and booze is just on the table yonder...and once you were back here Dru' insisted on washing your outfit straight away. Unfortunately for you those horrid old rags fell apart in the process so she's gone to grab you some new threads and some more water for your bath."
"Bath?" She couldnt even remember the last time she'd had a bath.
Soon enough Druzilla returned with a bulging paper package on her back and immediately she corraled Dizzy into a large tub of water and proceeded to happily scrub the filth from her new aquaintence.
"Fvck me dead, you've got some big strong arms dontcha? You a 'jack working up in the Darkwood eh?" Asked Dru as she poured a bowl of water over Dizzy's hair.
"....no, ah....the quarry...down south actually."
Druzilla paused for a moment, then resumed rubbing the sweet smelling soap into Dizzy's matted hair.
"Oh yes, I understand. Well dont worry about what people will think of that around here. Most folks come here to start afresh, and turn over a clean slate, so to speak." She leaned over the tub to look at Dizzy with her pretty brown eyes. "Clean slate right? Thats why you came here too, right Dizzy?"
She squirmed slightly in the tub and recounted her knowledge of Ogden to Dru, leaving out all details of crime and the arena.
"So I came here looking for him, and he's dead it would seem, so now Im not really sure what Im doing." Sighed Dizzy.
"Oh yeah, those guys. They would strut about with red feather earrings and stuff, trying to be staunch as." Dru rubbed at Dizzys hard feet with a pumice stone. "But that kinda sh!t doesnt really go over too well in a town like this, its too small eh. They generally just slung dope and rolled the occasional drunk, not much threat really. Just boys trying to be cool. But they werent so bad, we'd talk to some of them at the pub from time to time. Just fvcked up kids with nothing to do."
Once she had been scrubbed raw, and her hair cleaned, combed and dry, Druzilla opened her paper package and Dizzy handed some fresh new threads.
"Nice eh! I got them from the bathhouse's lost property box, there was some weird new fella working the place now, but he didnt mind me helping myself. I guess old Nosey must be off galavanting again, hmmmph! My boy's just the same, gone off to rescue some goose he just met, but whatever, takes all kinds dunnit." Dru' seemed to stare at some spot on the flaking painted wall.
" Your boy, Im sure he'll be alright. " Reassured Dizzy
"Oh fvcken eh he'll be alright He's built like a brick sh!thouse!" Laughed the washerwoman " He'll be back before too long. Anyway, try on your new duds before you catch a chill."
Donning the fine clothes, Dizzy felt like a new woman, a warm yellow sari with purple silk parachute pants to match. There was even a hood with a yellow hem. After Druzilla had braided Dizzy's hair she could have passed for any well-to-do Dwarven Lady back in the big smoke.
"I havent any boots to lend you, but swing past the shop, the goosey gander, and Brix will sort you out, to be sure."
Dizzy smoothed out her new kit, and for the first time in a long while, smiled up at Dru.
"I really cant thank you'se enough, you've been so kind to me."
Ethel came in with a plate heaped with what seemed to Dizzy to be very much a gourmet big breakfast. She tucked in lustily.
"No worries mate, couldnt leave a sister lying about looking like a rat pulled out of the sh!tter eh?" Said Dru' as she watched Dizzy lick her plate clean. "One other thing, that bloke you came looking for, well Im sorry you missed him, he was alright. Perhaps you'd wanna go check out his place down on Dinghy street, by the river. Might be there's still a couple of his mates still there what could help you out. Its the sh!tty end of town but I reckon you'll be alright. Aint no-one gonna fuss with you in broad daylight, specially not with arms like that eh!" Druzilla laughed sweetly as Dizzy flexed her pythons with a cheesy grin.
What's a reasonable scenario for Stegg to catch up with Nyx in the days following the "Beaver Lodge Massacre"?
Maybe he rolls up on the old clubhouse and finds Nyx still pottering about with his Bunsen burner in the basement?
Better yet - he turns up to turn the place over for anything worth looting and Nyx wanders up from the basement...?
Some among the Cockerels used to call it their "long-house" - in fact the place is nothing more than a beaten-up old storehouse, its upper storey leaning precariously out over the water. Grain used to be stored here but the rat problem was out-of-control - the Cockerels started squatting here after the owner disappeared - supposedly headed down-river after losing his life-savings at dice, or who knows what reason.
The front door creaks open.
"It's Stegg," calls a low voice, with the cautious edge of embarrassment of someone who expects there is no-one to listen.
The big man-orc stoops under the door-frame and steps inside, eyes rapidly adapting to the gloom. Familiar sights. The fire-pit in the middle of the floor, a black kettle settled in the ashes, its long-surviving payload of infinity soup now cold and congealed. Against one wall, a rude charcoal cartoon of "Payday" Teedum, the wood notched and damaged and three rusty throwing axes yet embedded. Six rats skulls mounted on wee spikes above the door across the room. Red rags tied around the rafters. Smelly straw pallets lined up against one wall. Familiar sights, made strange, for Stegg has never before seen the place quiet and empty.
"Gozreh's grief," curses Stegg softly, and he silently appends - was it really just a sh!t-hole all along?
He scans the room for any kind of note or graffito left by another of the crew, someone who didn't make the run on the brothel or made it back. Nothing. His mouth in a grim line, he sets to turning the place over. Ogden at least must've kept a stash here...?
Down in the basement, a heavy footsteps, thumps and the sounds of dragged furniture are heard overheard...?
"ugh'
Nyx attempts to sit up but fails, his head heavy as a leaden weight. He tries again, this time using his arms to lever himself up. They are weak as jelly however and he slumps back onto the straw pallet.
"Ugh, rust-over."
With a superhuman effort he rolls over onto his side, underestimating his momentum he rolls off the mattress and onto the floor.
"Leon, where did you get this crap, it's gotta be cut with something... Hemlock?"
The room wobbles for a moment. Nyx bites his lip as he rides the wave of nausea.
"Leon?" No answer, the "lab" is empty. Nyx has managed to set up a reasonable operation in what is essentially a glorified broom closet. The collection of scrounged beakers, cracked pestles and grimy pipettes are an insult to the art of alchemy but sufficient to produce the low grade crank that Leon hustled in between rust shipments.
Leon had broached his special stash last night - he was nervous about the raid. Ogden had never let him tag along before, expecting him to mess it up somehow, but this, this was a cakewalk - go frighten some whores, take over the operation and presto! Free pussy forever and a base of operations several steps above the abandoned warehouse they affectionately called their longhouse.
His face flat against the cool stone of the floor Nyx relaxes - maybe another 5 minutes....
THUMP
Nyx is woken by the sound of banging and crashing upstairs - the boys must be back. No doubt Leon would be down any minute with some b@%+#&@& story about his heroism and grit saving the day. Rolling on his side Nyx notices a flask that has rolled under the workbench - through the drug haze he remembers whipping up a batch of Panacea to put him sleep - he must have dropped it in his rust-addled stupor. No matter, the elixir should still be active, with few magic words it would act as a sobering agent as well. With trembling fingers he manages to secure the flask and neck the contents - a sweet pink feeling courses through his body, the nausea fades and he feels himself again - at least for the next hour.
Suddenly the door to the basement is flung open, flooding the dark space with light. Nyx's darkvision is overwhelmed.
"Ach! F$$@'s sake man! Close the door! Gimme a second to adjust!" Through slitted eyelids Nyx makes out a figure silhouetted in the door frame. Too big for Leon, must be Ogden "Ogden? Where's Leon? Did he f$!% up again?"
"Not Ogden. Word is he's dead. Leon too, might be. I don't know for sure. Someone grabbed up all the bodies."
The big man-orc sits down on the top step, filling the doorway.
"Raid didn't go so good. Nice to see you, Nyx."
"Not Ogden. Word is he's dead. Leon too, might be. I don't know for sure. Someone grabbed up all the bodies."
" S$+&. Leon? Dead? S%$*..."
Nyx slumps down on his pallet cradling his oversized head in his hands.
"Killed by a bunch of defenceless whores...unbelievable...” Nyx pauses ” Or is it TOTALLY believable”
The big man-orc sits down on the top step, filling the doorway.
"Raid didn't go so good. Nice to see you, Nyx."
“Back atcha Stegg.”
" I guess you came looking for Ogdens stash? We better find it and clear out before anyone else turns up"
Nyx scrabbles about on his worktable and produces a filthy looking rust pipe. He examines it for a moment letting out a huge sigh.
" Hey...uh, you wouldn't happen to have any rust on you, would ya? I think I overdid it last night and might have a teensy problem if I can't find some more pretty soon.."
"Killed by a bunch of defenceless whores...unbelievable...” Nyx pauses ” Or is it TOTALLY believable”
"Might be them dames is tougher than Ogden credited. Take the Littlebeaver woman. She's a name. Third verse of 'Hollis & the Wyvern King'."
"The skulls of her foes were cleft! like the nexus of her dugs / fell blows of wicked kobbles, were discarded by her shrugs" - Stegg growls somewhat melodically - "That's her, same one Leon saved his geeps for on Fireday nights."
"Tell has it, Nosey Norkrung were there also. The Bathhouse Hermit. Heard things about that one I don't like to believe. Rumor names him for a corpse-swain. I bet it were him as grabbed up the bodies."
He spits on the dirt floor.
Nyx scrabbles about on his worktable and produces a filthy looking rust pipe. He examines it for a moment letting out a huge sigh.
" Hey...uh, you wouldn't happen to have any rust on you, would ya? I think I overdid it last night and might have a teensy problem if I can't find some more pretty soon.."
"Hrmph. Smart lil' guy like you oughta know better than to smoke yer own supply. Sh!t'll make yer dick shrink. Whiskey and weed, though! There's the stuff! Put hair on yer chest like iron bars!"
"I guess you came looking for Ogdens stash? We better find it and clear out before anyone else turns up"
"Yeah. And what would you know about Ogden's stash, Nyx?"
"Yeah. And what would you know about Ogden's stash, Nyx?"
GM?
Nyx is sneaky, curious and has heard many things with his long ears...
Trudging through the thick, sucking mud down Dinghy street, Dizzy showed no care for her new leather boots. Instead she scanned the dilapidated shacks for the clubhouse of the Riverside Cockerels.
This neighbourhood was a huge step down from the palatial apartments she had lived in, back in Andersport with Ogden and the rest of the gang. Yet it was hardly the worst barrio she had encountered.
Before too long she came to the place she was seeking, a crudely designed sign hammered onto the rough wooden wall, the outline of a Rooster, with a patchy red paintjob.
Dizzy looked about, scanning for prying neighbours, but at this end of the modest slum, the only activity present were two big Tomcats fighting in the mud over a mangled Dire-Eel corpse.
She approached the clubhouse, and thought to hear muffled voices from inside. The rickety door was slightly ajar and with her pick-handle she pushed it open just in time to hear a gruff voice from within the shadows...
"Yeah. And what would you know about Ogden's stash, Nyx?"
Dizzy stood silohuetted at the doorway, her eyes struggled to adjust to the gloom but she percieved two shapes inside the grimy shack.
"Uh...Hi!" She had given no thought to the fact there may be some gangers remaining. "Um, Im an old mate of Ogden's....I've been away for some time. Ah...did someone just say something about a stash?"
Nix and Stegg pause as they try to think through recent events to see if there might be something resembling a clue about whether or not Ogden had some loot, and where it might be.
“But before I do that, we’d best take aside what we need for expenses. A little for th’authorities, who’re ever so obliging, and a little more for the other Man—for tho I’d reckon we’d take him and his, it seems like a needless fight f’now—” With each named expense, of course, Ogden would take a small pile of the coins and put them in a bag.
“And let’s not be forgetting our big-eared alchy—I can tell yas he charges a pretty penny for his most invaluable services,” with which words a few more coins are dropped in the bag-—more, by the sound of it, than Nix would get paid, “and he needs stuff the likes of which ye’ve never heard of,” more coins in the bag, “and a little for our food and drink, as well…”
Nix could hear the vague disappointment as the portion to be divided got smaller and smaller. “Let’s not be grumblin’! There’s none of yous as could be figurin’ out this racket, and if ah gets it wrong we’ll be squeezed ’tween them that hates us and them that wants our business, and I'll end up with you, swinging in the breeze or floating down the river with a knife in our backs! And let’s not be forgetting our future investments. For if I left it to you to figure we’d still be here doing this when we had grey beards and piles comin’ out of our ar5es!!” Nix'd always wondered what these future investments were, although in retrospect it seems Ogden was interested in getting in on a cat-house.
Nix couldn’t help but think that Ogden was probably right. It wasn’t just the complexities of the town that would end the Cockerels without his leadership, though. They’d kill each other, if left to their own devices. Things were much more stable with Ogden there, keeping the good ones onside with drugs and booze and whatever else they needed, and keeping the troublemakers in check by cutting short their supplies, playing them off against each other, for all the world like a prince in his court…
And for all that Ogden didn’t pay them very much, except for Nix, this was an expensive business. (Nix was on his own pay-scale, of course; a good cook shouldn’t have to wait on spoils.) Nix had heard Ogden’s stress from time-to-time as he muttered to himself and counted money. Cash was ever and always a problem…
Now it was the other odds and sods being divvied up. This time there were some jewels. Had someone paid in kind? Or had the boys run across something unanticipated in rolling their drunks? “You know me, m’lads. I have my preferences. I do love these little trinkets with the little stones…” Nix was pretty sure that Ogden was the only one there who knew what anything was worth. The Cockerels would take their bling and their tat, and wear it with pride. But Ogden always took classy little oddities, ornaments, little jewels, and the like.
The feathers he wore were worn out of solidarity. This time he picked out a few of the plainer rings. “Nothing special, boys, just somethin’ in keepin’ with my proclivities.”
Of course some of the lads knew what he was at, but they weren’t going to object. Ogden was all that held the gang together, and getting rid of that stuff in this town was tricksy to say the least. And it wasn’t like there was anything over valuable amongst their hauls. The Cockerels were nothing if not bottom feeders, the last to get their bite at whatever cherries came to this gods forsaken backwater.
Nix couldn’t really figure out what Ogden might be saving for, at any rate; he seemed committed to the gang life-style. Perhaps he flogged the stuff to a fence around town somewhere, perhaps he had a stash? Probably the latter, but difficult to know. In any event, it wouldn’t be anywhere around here. Ogden loved his Cockerels, but he didn’t trust ’em.
Stegg could not help but be impressed by the man. This was bluster, to be sure, but much had happened, and it seemed the Cockerels were going places. Ogden was ambitious, but for now, as at many other times, he was spending the Cockerels’ gains all free and easy, like money was no object. He liked being liked, and nobody liked a miser. Hence the engaging ladies and the jovial tavern owner, for none of those would be going home broke on a night when Ogden had brought his Cockerels here.
As a half-way measure to the fighting pit Ogden had built a cock-fighting pit (“appropriate for the Cockerels, eh?”) in a basement under one of the near-by warehouses. With a bit of luck, or something a little more certain, they'd get a regular earn. Initially, the Cockerels had been enlisted to dig out the pit but this had been unpleasant work, and after a near mutiny, Ogden recovered a lot of his suddenly lost popularity amongst the gang by paying some goblins to finish the job, and bringing the boys here to celebrate the work they had done.
(Perhaps if they'd stuck to cock-fighting, and not started messing in cat-houses, they'd not all be dead, thinks Stegg to himself.)
Ogden had kept the lion’s share of whatever loot the gang accumulated, “to cover expenses”, and to be fair running a gang seemed to be quite a complicated affair; then there was the bit he kept “for future investments”, which Stegg took to mean the fighting pit. And to be sure, Stegg didn’t want to go back to digging out a muddy basement again, so he was happy enough having Ogden pay some of their spoils to labourers. In any event, while their share of the spoils might not be quite what Stegg would’ve liked, there was plenty to go around when you were with Ogden.
Stegg was impressed by Ogden’s style, as well. “You’ll be the toast of Woodenhead, m’boy, but that’s only a stepping stone to bigger and better things! Andersport! Absalom! For a man of your talents all of this is possible!” He slapped a hand down, and the rings he wore looked proper classy as they cracked down on the wooden surface. “And you’ll be swimmin’ in it. Pussy, that is. Tell me now ladies, if pit-fighters don’t get yer juices flowing!” The ladies laughed along with him, enthusiastic at the prospect of a pit-fighter.
The rings were what Ogden loved. When it came to divvying up the loot, Ogden took a particular interest in classier items, particularly jewellery when it showed up. While these were worth more than the other stuff, they were also hard to sell in Woodenhead, and Ogden did seem to know and care about them, so Stegg never had much of a problem just taking some cash and bling. Nobody else seemed to mind either.
Stegg assumed Ogden flogged off what he didn’t wear to somebody in town who could sell it off down the river. “So have yourself another one!” Stegg hadn’t noticed that he’d downed his already, but Ogden was already filling it up. He spent money pretty quick, Stegg reckoned, probably about as fast he got it.