Riddleport! Located in a secluded, rocky harbor situated at the easternmost reaches of the Calphiak Mountains, where the meandering Velashu River meets the sea. It's most prominent landmark is an ancient Thassilonian monument that arches across the harbor covered in runes: the Cyphergate.
Though well-known as a notorious pirate harbor, the city gained a greater air of legitimacy when the Heroes of Varisia deposed the pirate lord of the city, Gaston Cromarchy and left the city in the control of the head of the Order of Cyphers, Elas Tammerhawk and Calistrian priestess Shorafa Pamodae. Despite the change in leadership, the city hasn't been able to fully throw off its past, and there are still several powerful crime lords vying for control and influence.
However, people in the city still strive to overcome its seedy past and reputation. Scholars still visit to explore and study the mysterious Cyphergate. The city has become a major port and trade hub, thanks to the general pacification of the wilds of Varisia by the Rangers. There are fortunes to be won in Riddleport, if the person is canny, lucky, or brave enough.
Word has spread about the opening of a new gambling hall. An old, run-down establishment abandoned when Cromarchy and his cronies were ousted had been mysteriously purchased and renovated. Now the Gold Goblin Gaming Hall was officially opening with a grand tournament called, "Cheat the Devil and Take His Gold."
Intrigued -- or perhaps dragged there by other acquaintances -- you all arrive with the gold coin entrance fee to participate in the grand opening. The Hall's exterior has been cleaned up, and the establishment's namesake -- a statue of a grinning goblin plated to look like gold -- gleams in the late-morning sun.
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 the succubus.
Beyond the registration table 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, bat-winged 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 bare-chested 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.
Lana stood on the balcony just outside her room that overlooked the central gaming area and common room, her eyes narrowed in irritation and discontent. Her left hand held onto her staff as her right rested palm down atop the railing. How irksome. Not only does this little sideshow prevent me from doing any research, but it is all so...so flagrantly lewd! These waitresses likely wore more attire when they were born!
Just then, her host, Saul Vancaskerkin, came down the walkway towards her. Oh, joy of joys...
Despite her irritation, she put on a polite smile and bowed her head his direction. ”Quite the extravaganza you are hosting here, Mister Vancaskerkin. It is definitely...unique.”
She looks the game floor over for her “brother.” Not immediately spotting him, she asks Saul ”I apologize in advance if my companion causes you any undue distress today. He has a distaste for outsiders of the Lower Planes, including portrayals of them.”
Saul, a middle-aged man with salt-and-pepper hair, waves his left arm in a dismissive gesture. His left hand is gone, replaced not with a hook, but a large key. "It's all in good fun, my dear," he says to Lana, "and I trust your brother to know the difference between real fiends and the kind that I employ."
The sound of articulated metal lightly clanking and scraping against itself precedes the arrival of Arc from his own room. He greets Lana and Saul in his quiet voice, face hidden behind his seemingly ever present suit of magical armor. "Sister. Master Vancaskerkin."
He wears his Order of the Godclaw habard openly and proudly.
Clearly it was unnecessary for the Order to send me all the way here. This is no cult activity; merely the base licentiousness of humanoids untempered by properly staid laws. I seriously doubt there is any work for me here, but I suppose it is best to be thorough. You'll let me know if you sense any agents of Chaos, eh Pan?
He waits for a feeling of reassurance from his armor, confirming that there are no chaotic fiends nearby.
Saul gives Arc a polite nod of his head. "Mister d'Constantine. I hope you've rethought your intentions of participating in my little tournament. Or, at the very least, taking off that armor and relaxing a little." His smile becomes a little forced. "Otherwise my patrons may think there's something to fear. Scared customers don't gamble as freely as those who think they're completely safe."
Arc surveys the room and gets no sense of urgency or alarm. No chaotic fiends lurk about in this room.
The casino floor is carpeted in a rich red that has been patched in many places. Silken banners hang from floor to ceiling along the walls, and wide vertical blinds are drawn over the windows to block out the view fro the outside. Layers of horizontally hung, gauzy beige curtains form the ceiling. Light is provided by numerous chandeliers as well as several large copper braziers spaced around the room with live coals to give the chamber a more hellish light for the tournament. At the back of the chamber between the kitchen doors is a small dais bearing a bust of Desna, goddess of luck.
More and more patrons pour into the establishment, paying their 1 gp entry fee and signing a mock contract. The contract outlines the rules of the tournament and what it will take in order to achieve the grand prize -- 10,000 silver pieces.
Saul gives Arc a polite nod of his head. "Mister d'Constantine. I hope you've rethought your intentions of participating in my little tournament. Or, at the very least, taking off that armor and relaxing a little." His smile becomes a little forced. "Otherwise my patrons may think there's something to fear. Scared customers don't gamble as freely as those who think they're completely safe."
Arc shakes his helmeted head. "My armor stays on."
"I won't cause any trouble."
As they arrive in Riddleport, Thistle looks around nervously. Remember, girl, we ain't in Sandpoint anymore. Folks're gonna see a gobbo and prolly see red!
She pulls the cowl of her cloak a bit lower and nervously picks at the fabric of her grey woolen gloves--one of which has a rip that shows a green finger poking through--and turns to Nemo to ask, "Whatcha think? Do I look enough like a halfling?"
She grins nervously, showing off a mouth full of sharp jagged yellow teeth, and then approaches the front door of the Golden Goblin, her eyes lingering on the statue.
Lana’s skin crawled when Arc addressed her as his sibling. Why does he insist on calling me that?
She sighed and put a gentle hand on Vancaskerkin’s right forearm and interjects ”Unfortunately, Mr. Vancaskerkin, Arc’s not really one to leave his armor off. I’ve grown to think of it as his second skin, as it were. But I assure you, he knows better than to bring dishonor to the family name by crass action.”
She gives her bastard sibling a scathing glance before turning back to the balcony. She opens the crook of her elbow to Vancaskerkin and asks ”Will you be so kind as to escort me to the floor? After all, it was your insistence that I attend this soirée.”
Nemo often struggles with talking to other people. She finds this rather ironic. Almost everyone in her immediate family is a skilled orator. Nemo trained herself to socialize by tirelessly studying their words and mannerisms. However, her own efforts can be very hit or miss; she just lacks that natural charm and charisma her mother and sisters all possess.
That plus Shiloh's tenacity, Galatea's grit, Ariel's magnanimity, and Honey's mettle and talent...
"Unfortunately not, Thistle," Nemo replies in her usual soft-spoken voice. She hopes that Thistle can forgive her bluntness. However, Nemo feels that telling the truth here is the best course of action. Still, she tries to be polite about it. "Truthfully, your... disguise could use a little work."
Arc waits for Vancaskerkin to either escort Lana or not, and follows behind her at about two paces, a looming shadow of matte charcoal steel. A faint blue green glow shines from his visor in two spots, which scan the room constantly, apparently a magical representation of his eyes. In fact upon closer inspection, Arc's armor lacks all the straps and buckles you would normally see holding the plates together. Its as if the entire thing was one articulated piece and he somehow stepped into it, exactly as Lana said, like a second skin. Despite the armor's intimidating appearance, Arc carries no weapons, and seems completely relaxed.
"Certainly, my dear," Saul says, and gallantly escorts Lana onto the gaming floor.
The Gold Goblin's main hall is a very large room, and there are more than a dozen different gaming tables available for contestants to wager, win and lose. As the registration process continues, the gathering crowd spends time playing cards and other non-sanction games, drinking, or otherwise carousing.
Several tables has been set up for Bounder, a dice-throwing game. The players throw two icosahedrons (twenty-sided dice) while the house throws three standard (six-sided) dice. The player wins if the house's total is in between the player's two roll results.
Several more tables are set up for Golem, a player-v-player card game where each player tries to get the best hand after a series of draws. The house takes five percent of the pot, and the rest of the winnings go to the player with the best hand.
Other tables are set up for Skiffs, a halfling-invented game that is played on a three-by-three grid with differently-colored tokens matched up per player. This skill-game involves moving around or eliminating the colored tokens so that only one is left in the squares on the grid. The house takes a coin per player.
One table features a unique game called Ghoulette, which is run by the game's inventor (and owner of the unique magical item -- an animated ghoul's head that spews insults at the players). It otherwise works like roulette, where players place their bets on what field the spinning head will land on -- and get the honor of a scathing insult from the desiccated head along with ten times their wager.
===============
Thistle's disguise fails to account for her ears, greenish skin, and teeth, but the patrons don't seem especially alarmed at the presence of a goblin. Since she's not openly brandishing a dogslicer or a torch, many of the patrons seem to think that she's some sort of mascot of the Gold Goblin.
Gambling. A weakness which plants seeds of chaos. Providers losing money meant to feed children. Pirates wasting ill gotten gains, thus motivated to go out and rob once again. This entire place is disgusting. Poor imp, to be trapped here amid all this disorder. Hmmm....
"Excuse me, Master Vancaskerkin. May I enquire as to the origin of the imp in the cage above?"
"Origin?" Saul repeats in surprise at the question. "I believe he's from somewhere in the Nine Hells!" He chortles at his joke. "But in all seriousness, he's working off a debt he incurred some years ago to me. I'm knocking several weeks off of his service in exchange for his performance here for my tournament. He'll likely be grumpy for some time, since I don't think he's enjoying his cage."
"I see. Employment in pursuit of a lawful contract. This is in order." Arc resumes his vigil over Lana, following her about as silently as his armor allows.
Thistle gulps and looks up at Nemo. "Thanks for your honesty. I suppose I could try again...but every good Cladissan knows to persevere through her failures, am I right?
"Anyhoo, we better go in and see what we can learn about that big blot! Lightstaff won't be happy if we come back without learning somethin'!"
At first Thistle clutches her silver heart-in-a-web holy symbol nervously, but she starts to relax when she sees that the patrons and staff are too focused on the gambling to care that there's a goblin in the hall.
"Hukhukhukhukhuk! Nemo, you know I'm not lyin', I was scared t'get outta Sandpoint--Zoli and Lightstaff and even Father Zantus are always going on 'bout how goblins aren't trusted out here--but this ain't bad, right?
"Let's start askin' around, find locals, figure out when this blot started and what they know about it. And hey, might as well get a bite while we're at it too, eh?"
Thistle gets in line to get some spicy, bacon-wrapped quail legs, and starts up a conversation with the people in front and behind her.
"Hey, how about that blot, huh? Crazy! You from around here? What've ya heard about where it comes from?"
Arc finally notices the goblin wandering around the gambling hall, and is immediately troubled. Goblin. An agent of chaos no doubt...
His helmeted gaze follows Thistle around the room, watching her closely.
Thistle asks around, but for the most part, she's ignored, given strange or even alarmed looks, or outright threatened. The patrons, she finds, are here to gamble for a huge prize and not to share rumors about a strange but so far harmless feature.
At the appointed time of the tournament, Saul excuses himself from the Constantines and heads for the center dais where the giant chest is set. He collects two of the gorgeous "succubi" to accompany him and help get everyone's attention.
He bows to the crowd and clears his throat a few times to make sure all eyes are on him before he begins. "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 pats the large chest next to him. "I hope you found your reception by the devil's lovely temptresses suitably entertaining."
This is met by a general murmur of laughter and a few catcalls. "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."
He directs everyone's attention to the imp in the birdcage. At the sudden attention, Old Scratch flies into a flurry of rage banging the cage bars, spitting, howling and screaming vile epithets in Infernal. His theatrics are received with laughter and applause. As the crowd dies down, Vancaskerkin continues.
"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 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 imp, and with that, the tournament begins.
Of all of Nemo's etiquette training, the lessons she learned from her sister Honey have proven to be far and away the most effective. The issue is that Nemo often forgets to follow them. Thankfully for herself and Thistle, today is not one of those days!
(As for gambling, at the moment, Nemo shows very little interest in it.)
Thistle isn't a stranger to dirty looks. Still, it's hard not to take it personally.
"Whaaaa? You can't make a little friendly conversation!?!"
"Oy! Same to you, bud!"
Thistle shrugs and moves on. And on. When she does, she starts trying to remember how Father Zantus had slowly--and painstakingly--taught her to call on Cladissa's Wisdom to guide her inquiry (rather than relying on looks or personality).
As she does, she thinks (for the briefest moment) that perhaps The Persistent Weaver is speaking through her, and rewarding her tenacity.
On the way around the gambling hall, she takes pains to go the loooong way around any braziers. While doing so at one point, she almost bumps into a massive, armored leg. Looking up, she says, "Oh, hey, sorry 'bout that! May the Lady of Forgiveness look on you kindly, friend. Say, you from around here? I can't get the sight of that weird blot in the sky outta my head. What've ya heard about where it comes from?"
Arc's helmeted head looks down at Thistle. "Excuse me," he says coldly, stepping to the side.
"No. I am not from around here. I am also curious about the...'blot'. It could be a sign of fiendish activity in the city. Clearly people around here lack a proper fear of chaos and disorder. No doubt this port is festering with cults..." Arc scans the gambling hall with his visor suspiciously. "I will have to investigate thoroughly to ensure no agents of Chaos are behind the occurrence. You have a proper appreciation for law and order, yes, goblin? It is unusual to see your kind without fire and death in accompaniment."
Lana was relieved when both her escort and her charge went their separate ways. She sighed and looked at the gambling tables begin to fill. She glanced down at the entry fee Saul had granted her.
Oh well. Might as well make the most of it...
She then proceeded to the cashier and retrieved nine more gold pieces to bring her chip count to an even 100. She then looked around at something that suited her and would occupy her mind a bit. Eventually, she settled on the Bounder tables. She approached and watched for a few rounds until the previous players had walked away in frustration for the card tables. She then stepped forward and delicately had a seat opposite the House Roller.
Best start slow. Get a feel for this...whatever this is...
She bet five coins and rolled the dice. A loss.
Bah. I bet these are all rigged so that no one can truly win.
She bet again. A win. She arched an eyebrow and continued wagering. There were some back and forth moments, but eventually things really started to go in her favor. Before long, she had quite the large crowd gathered around her, and had more than doubled her money.
Maybe...maybe I could actually win this thing. I could use that coin to get a leg up on my research here without having to involve Father.
She then decided to go for a big move. She shoved half of her chips into the pot. A hundred in total. The crowd gasped as she took up her die and rolled it on the felt table.
A single sword turned up, giving her the slim chance of doubling up her money should she roll the crossed swords that represented 20 on her next toss. A murmur rolled through the area and more bodies pressed in to watch...
”Stay or Double, Miss?” the House Roller asked.
She looked him in the eye and pushed the last of her coin in and picked up her die, waiting for him to take his turn. The man took his three dice and shook them up in his cup before pouring them onto the table. The three cubes bounced around before eventually settling on a 3, a 5, and a 2.
A ten. More than half the options result in quite a windfall...
Lana then poured her cup out onto the felt and let the die roll along. It teetered for several long seconds before coming to rest on 12. The crowd applauded politely, some of them dispersing when the chance of someone doubling their prize faded.
Lana collected her chips and said ”Thank you,” to the Roller before returning to the cashier. ”I’d like to advance through this tournament, please. Exchange these for higher chips as well.”
”How far would you like to go, Ma’am?” the man behind the counter asked.
She quickly did the math in her head and concluded ”Stygia I presume.”
The boy nodded, advanced her name on the boards, and handed her back 21 more brightly colored chips.
She then returned to the Bounder tables. The one she had been at was now thoroughly occupied. Fools probably think they have found some lucky table or something. It’s all chance, but they likely fail to realize that.
She makes her way to another table and has a seat. She bets a single gold chip to get things going. But it turns out to be a loss.
She tries again, this time with five. Also a loss. She scowled and bet another five. Another loss.
I knew it. The dice are most certainly loaded. They lure you in with a few wins and then pluck you like a ripened fruit.
She bet again, five of her last ten coins. An 18.
So...the upper limit of what the Roller can get, and the majority of my die rolls lie beneath it.
She pushes the last of her chips in to double up.
The Roller turns his cup over and lets the dice roll forth, resulting in a total of 10.
Again, almost half the options on this die are winning options...
She turns hers over and it rolls around for a bit longer than she would have figured before coming to rest on 19!
She narrowed her eyes at the die and clenched her teeth.
Bah! That is beyond preposterous! Their cheating system is so flagrant! But what is there to do? Cause a scene and upset my host? No...that wouldn’t do...
She smiles politely at the Roller and says ”Well played.”
Nemo asks around while participating in a few games, and is able to get a few of the gamblers talking. The Blot is also sometimes called Blakely's Shadow, named after the cyphermage who first noticed that it wasn't just some cloud. They'd also heard that he used a fly spell to get close to it -- it was strangely cold, but it otherwise felt no different from a regular cloud.
Thistle, also, manages to persevere and gets some information out of a few of the gaming hall's patrons. Though, one gambler notices her Cladissan symbol. After getting over his initial shock of seeing a goblin with a good-aligned holy symbol, he leans over and warns her, "I wouldn't be showing that off too much around here. Word is, the Calistrians don't much care for that new goddess. And one of 'em near runs this whole town."
Thistle also learns that the leader of the Cyphermages has offered a 500 gp reward to anyone who can determine what the blot is. So far, outside of rampant speculation, no one's come up with an answer.
Several hours of the tournament pass by, with cheers and boos and a few rowdy folks being escorted out by the bouncers with a different sort of Devil's Mark -- just a smear of red paint across the face. Saul patrols the gaming floor, smiling and laughing with the winners and offering a sympathetic look to those who bust. From time to time, he takes a break from the floor to transfer money from the register to the counting room.
Lana tries her hand at gambling and has a measure of success until a streak of bad luck sees her reduced to zero chips. The croupier gives her a pained look, then gestures to one of the servants dressed as a succubus. She comes up to give Lana the "Devil's Mark," drawing the eyes of most of the males (and a few females) nearby.
Before the Devil's Mark can be administered, a loud crash in the middle of the floor catches everyone's attention. A table has overturned, spilling chips all over the place. Before anyone can do anything else, a coruscating burst of fireworks erupt on the floor, blindingly bright.
Immediately before the explosion of fireworks, you catch sight of a well-dressed man reading from a scroll. When he finishes, he immediately clenches his eyes shut. You can react to this and get a +2 circumstance bonus on your Will Save by averting/closing your eyes as well.
That was pyrotechnics that just went off.
A woman's voice shouts over the shocked gasps, "All right, folks! Drop to the ground and don't try anything stupid and we might let you live!"
Chaos ensues!!
============
Amid the confusion and panic of the scared and blinded tournament-goers, you can easily pick out four rough types that appear to be in on it. The woman who shouted is standing near the center of the room where the table tipped over, shouting and giving encouragement to the thugs. Another man in fine clothes is dropping a piece of parchment to the ground.
Lana blushes as the scantily clad woman approaches and a crowd gathered. She wasn’t accustomed to such...scrutiny. She tightened her grip on her staff as the girl drew close...
”Aaagghhh!” she winced as she slams her eyes shut too late, tears escaping their edges as she raises an arm reflexively, but too slow, in front of her eyes. She takes a step back and takes up a defensive posture.
Arc roars, pointing an armored finger at the woman who shouted in the center of the room.
(+2 if charge)
Thistle was just bending down to tie her shoe, so had no idea who caused the big flash...but had no problem shielding her eyes.
She looks around amidst the panic and notices the troublemaker and her thugs. She says a quick prayer to The Voider of Vengeance for protection, and then pulls out the well crafted practice-scimitar that Zoli gave her.
(Trying to sound more confident than she feels) Thistle declares, "Drop your plan of pillage, and seek forgiveness--or know that I'm not afraid to stop you by force."
At the first sign of bright light, Nemo swiftly closes her silver eyes and averts her gaze. When she looks up again, she discovers the building in chaos. The aspiring Silver Sentinel quickly spots a hostile enemy preparing to attack her... or one of the casino's servants; Nemo really isn't sure who.
Regardless, she acts.
In one fluid motion, she draws her scythe, steps forward, and buries its blade in the man's back.
Blinded, Lana takes up a defensive posture.
Arc charges the woman who is clearly breaking the law. She lithely sidesteps the man in clanking armor, and his heavy gauntlet misses her.
Thistle calls upon Cladissa for divine favor, then steps forward to challenge the closest robber. She draws her scimitar, receiving a look of surprise on the goon to see a goblin threatening him.
Nemo drives her scythe into the nearest tough, striking true and eliciting a pained scream from him.
The spellcaster pulls out another scroll as he heads up to the dais. While he passes his confused henchman wondering about the goblin shouting at him, he points to the nearest guard standing over the large chest holding the night's grand prize. "Stick to the plan!" he shouts, then continues up to the chest. He reads off the scroll.
Suddenly, the chest shrinks away to a scrap of cloth!
The woman keeps shouting at the crowd to drop to the ground, though only half of the casino's patrons follow her instructions. The other half, blinded and panicked, scream and try to blindly make for the exits. She targets the armored brute with a spell to keep him off of her, stepping back to stay out of his reach.
The henchman that Nemo struck cries out at his nearly-mortal wound and throws down his weapon, which turns out to be a simple sap.
The rest of henchmen, with saps in hand, move to the blinded guards and bring the weighted sacks down hard on their heads or necks. The guards crumple to the ground.
Arc is struck immobile by the thief's spell.
"Oh geez this is really happening, huh? OK, Cladissa, I hope you're watchin'!"
Thistle goes the long way around the thug and the scary brazier, and is happy find that something about the armored guy is actually making her run faster!
Going by the sinister smirk on her face, for an instant, it seems like Nemo might refuse to accept her opponent's surrender. However, from the corner of her silver eye, she sees Thistle engage the apparent mastermind of this attack. With two hostile enemies near her friend, Nemo decides that she has bigger fish to fry and rushes to assist Thistle... by sinking her scythe in another enemy.
Still blind, Lana stays where she is. She seems safe for the moment despite the chaos around her.
Arc succumbs to the woman's spell and is dazed for a few seconds.
Thistle rushes around the thug to reach the spellcaster, but the man evades her scimitar swing.
Nemo buries her scythe into another of the robbers. He also screams in pain and shock, dropping his sap to the ground and bringing his hands up in a defensive gesture.
The spellcaster's eyes go wide at Nemo's combat prowess. "Time to go!" he shouts as he bends down and snatches up the piece of cloth that the treasure chest had become.
He then starts making his way to the exit.
The woman with the eyepatch also gasps at Nemo's brutality and wants no part of it. She targets the half-elf with a spell. Then the woman shouts, "Loot what you will, boys!" and starts also heading to the way out.
The remaining thugs who haven't given up start snatching belongings from the blinded patrons. One spots a nice staff in the hands of a blinded woman and moves up to grab it from her.
Lana feels her staff wrenched from her hands!
"HALT! YOU ARE UNDER ARREST!" Arc bellows a second time, charging after the escaping woman. He lurches forward to attempt to grab her!
No!
Some thieving bastard just snatched her staff! Fortunately, her mind and wit were both quite quick.
”Careful you fool! My staff is warded and will place a powerful curse upon any thief that takes it and does not see it returned to me!” she snaps harshly.
Thistle cries out, "Hey! Not so fast!" And attempts to poke the caster's hand, hoping to cause him to drop the transformed chest.
Thistle manages to yank the shrunken chest out of the wizard's hands, stopping his flight toward the door.
Lana hears her staff clatter to the ground but can only imagine the terrified look on the thief's face.
Thistle grabs the fallen-transformed-chest in her buckler arm. "I'm gonna guess that's not yours."
As she retrieves it, she keeps her eye on the thieving caster, studying the way he moves.
Suddenly, the thought occurs to her, Now how likely is it for the guards to think the gobbo holding the transformed chest is one of the baddies? and decides to holler,
Nemo doesn't even seem to notice that a spell has been cast on her; going by the wicked grin on her face, she is much too focus on cutting down the man before her. However, before she can, someone else draws her attention.
...Lana?
Without a second thought, Nemo charges across the dais and swings at the staff-stealing goon.
Arc runs up behind the woman with the eyepatch and wraps his metal-clad arms around her in a vice-like grip.
Thistle snatches the shrunken chest and shouts out to make sure everyone knows she's not with the robbers.
Nemo dashes across the dais and adds a third ruffian's blood to her scythe. He also screams and throws down his sap at the major wound bringing him close to death's door.
The wizard snarls at Thistle, shouting, "Insolent goblin!" He pulls out a wand, says a command word, and jabs it at her.
The woman with the eyepatch struggles in Arc's grasp, trying to slip out.
Her struggles are futile. "Angvar, help me!" she shouts at the wizard.
The two injured robbers head to the kitchen to find a rear exit to the place.
The wizard calls out to the last thug, "Help me with this goblin, you fool! It's got the treasure!"
With a nod, he moves up and tries to bring the sap down on the small adventurer.
The goblin is too nimble for him.
Arc continues to thunder, this time at the wizard.
Arc picks the woman up slightly and tries to body slam her to the floor.
"Aaahh!" Thistle cries out in pain as a Lightning Bolt sizzles through her, singeing her hair.
"Two can play at that game, foul villain! I'll have you know that I studied under none other than Zoli Tileani."
Not that I'm, uhh, quite there yet... She admits to herself. Still: remember the Fated Failure and persist, persist, persist!
Just as Nemo prepares to slay at her opponent, she hears Thistle cry in pain. That gives her enough clarity to assess her current situation. The goon before her just has just dropped his weapon, and he most likely has no intention of sticking around. Nemo also sees Lana successfully locate her staff. Meanwhile, Thistle is hurt and outnumbered two-to-one...
Perhaps my combat prowess would be better elsewhere, she concludes.
"When I get back, you better not be here," Nemo warns the gravely injured man.
With that declaration, she rushes over to help Thistle.
Still blinded, Lana drops to the floor to feel around for her staff. After grasping about and feeling disgusted by the state of the carpet, her fingers clasp around the magic item.
Arc pins the woman in his grip to the floor, restricting her movement even more.
Thistle stabs at the wizard, but her blade is turned away by an invisible barrier surrounding him.
That magical ward, however, is no match for Nemo, who charges up to the wizard and slashes him with her scythe. Not as tough as the ruffians in his employ, Angvar grows pale as he clutches at his fresh wound.
The woman again struggles to slip out of Arc's pin.
It's a feeble attempt, and she calls out to Angvar for help futilely.
Angvar in desperation tries to limp away, but he's clearly affected by his wound and won't get far.
The thug injured moments ago by Nemo takes her advice and starts heading for the exit.
The remaining healthy goon decides very quickly that he needs to go, and he does, withdrawing from the reach of Nemo and Thistle and dashing for the front doors.
Arc quickly assesses that the situation is now in hand. He kneels on the woman's back to hold her in place.
"Do not cut down Angvar. He is defeated. Let us interrogate him before submitting him to the proper authorities. There is no need for further blood..." His magical visor eyes focus on Nemo's dripping scythe. "Yes?"
Thistle blinks twice, a bit in shock as she takes in Nemo's bloody path. "I'm, uh, glad we're on the same side, Nemo! And I promise not to give you grief the next time you wear a big scythe around during a party. But yeah, Angvar deserves a fair trial."
Turning to Angvar, Thistle stands in front of him, arms akimbo. "Time to quit while you're ahead buddy. Now's when you kneel down to get tied up, and we bandage you and then start asking questions."
Satisfied that the goblin will probably keep this 'Nemo' woman in check, Arc fishes the rope from his pack and uses it to tie up the woman. "What is your name, criminal?" he asks the woman as he cinches the knots tight.
Angvar gulps at Thistle's threat. His eyes dart around as he clearly is looking for some sort of providence, but when his last goon dashes out the door, he slumps his shoulders in defeat.
The woman groans as she's being tied up. "Th-- Thuvalia. And I'm no criminal! It was just a job! He arranged it," she says, nodding her head toward Angvar.
As the blinded guests' vision starts to clear, they start to realize that the heist was apparently foiled. However, the chaos that happened during the attempted robbery wrecked the gambling tables, mixed up everyone's chips, and generally spoiled the night. Grumbles and complaints start rising in volume.
"Thuvalia, don't lie to yourself. You are an attempted robber. Surely robbery is a crime? Those who commit crimes are criminals. You, are a criminal. Now, silence. We will deal with you shortly."
Arc rises from Thuvalia, leaving her tied on the floor. He dusts off his armor, and then approaches Nemo, Thistle and Angvar. "I am Arctyryx d'Constantine, armiger of the Order of the Godclaw. Who are you?"
He looks at Lana. "Are you okay, Lana?"
As the crowd recovers enough to get angry, Thistle looks around and decides she's glad that both Nemo and this Arctyryx guy are near.
In response to the armored hulk's introduction, the little goblin puffs out her tiny chest with pride and says "I'm Thistle Tileani, Evangelist of Cladissa, the Fated Failure." She has green skin, ears that are unusually large (even for a goblin), piercing yellow eyes, and stringy dark grey-green hair. She stands just under three feet in height, and her face shows severe burn scars. Her grey woolen cloak and gloves are both fairly worn, and the most valuable possession to be seen on her is the heart-in-a-web holy symbol around her neck.
Having decided she's unlikely to get attacked by angry and confused gamblers, she addresses their captive again. "Now, Cladissa offers a chance at Reformation to all...but that starts with honesty, so hop to it."
"He's all yours, Thistle," Nemo says as she heals her friend. As quickly as it appeared, her threatening smirk is replaced by a completely neutral expression. To one Arctyryx d'Constantine, Nemo replies, "Nemo Argento. I'm one of the Silver Sentinels."
If Arc hadn't been a Hellknight of the Godclaw, then Nemo probably would've kept that last tidbit to herself. However, the Silver Sentinels have sometimes worked together with them. With that said, Nemo returns to Lana's side.
"Hello, Lana. It's been awhile," Nemo says.
Arc nods respectfully to Nemo, then somewhat less formally to Thistle. "Well met, Sentinel Argento; Mistress Tileani." He looks at Lana when Nemo says her name.
If she's one of Jeevika's, I guess it makes sense for them to have met before.