Saul grins as he looks over the group.
"I shan't be coy then - destroy them. It is the only way we can be sure of peace."
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Saul raises his key hand in a shrug. "I leave that to your discretion. I'd be very happy if you could cut the snake off at the head, but defer to your better judgement according to the situation. Elimination is best, but information will do."
The group now sits in Saul's office, watching him as he looks at everyone with a worried expression. "Welcome friends. I am afraid that the brave, magnificent stand you made may not have been quite enough, but almost. Last night I visited some contacts of mine, and received news most dire. Zincher and Croat are certainly its architects, and they now believe they have nothing to news. If the Gold Goblin is not wiped from Riddleport permanently, their reputation will forever be tarnished. We can expect more violence." He raises a finger. "Ah. BUT. I have information. Our enemies are planning a meeting to work out the final details of an even larger assault on the Goblin. The meeting is going to be held this evening in the Boneyard known as the Spar. In my earlier days I used it as a drop point, and can give you good directions. I ask you... nay, I beg that use your incredible mettle to scout this meeting out. My man on the inside is certain it will be a few thugs, and some remaining captains. If you can eavesdrop, or even more it will be invaluable."
Saul looks around, shaking his head slowly. "What a catastrophic waste. Still, this is how we show strength, friends. They hit us with their best and we have not lost a single man, I am prouder than I could imagine. Please, keep anything you find on their bodies. That said, let us look forwards, not backwards. We will not succumb to revenge and instead show that we are indomitable. Our opponents will be cowed by this, and should learn to look elsewhere for easy targets." With that, he begins cleaning up, despite his one good hand.
Michal gasps and his eye flutter open as the horrible purpling bruise around his neck fades out. He looks badly beaten, but certainly alive. Saul emerges from his hiding place in the cash cage, looking around with wide eyes. "You... you saved my life. You saved the casino. Thank you my friends, thank you so much!"
The following day as the group is going about their business, there's a sudden shimmering in the air as the Blot overhead twists, and changes shape. It vanishes for a moment, and then a minor earthquake hits the city. The rattling is enough to send several people off of the docks and smash many of hte clay vessels commonly used for drinking and serving food. After a few minutes, the earthquake ends, and the Blot returns. Variel's investigation once more turn up more questions. Nobody seems to even have any good theories. The earthquake has scared people, and it is now more commonly being called a harbinger of doom. After a couple of days of work and investigations, Saul calls the group into a meeting. "Friends, I have need of some muscle. A while back I ordered a large shipment of exotic liquor. Chelaxian red, rum from the Shackles, and some sort of strange, foul-tasting liqueur they drink in Galt I think we can have some tests of strength with. It's now just arrived and it's valuable cargo. I need some muscle to unload it safely. Please take care of this - Mutt, feel free to bring up to four of your men. News of valuable cargo like this gets out fast, and it's entirely possible someone else may like the look of it." He looks around. "Any questions? The ship is waiting to be unloaded as we speak."
Saul grins at Thaddeus. "That's wealth Thaddeus, hard-earned wealth. The city is your plaything my good man. Each of those is worth ten gold coins." He then pauses, listening to the caster. He nods assuredly. "A good idea, you have a keen mind and a humble face. A dangerous combination if I do say so. I have some contacts I will speak with. Follow threads of information is like untangling the web of a black widow - it is painstaking and difficult, and a wrong move will awake the spider at its centre."
GM ROlls:
Saul takes in a moment to take in everything. "So this informant got the information on the drop-off, and when you went to question him he had been murdered. Something is very rotten here. Zincher is a brute, but he enjoys elaborate games of intrigue when he thinks of them. I cannot be certain it is him, particularly if this informant worked for the names you have mentioned; I know them well." He stands and paces the room for a moment. "I have my own resources to deploy here and will do so. Although the five of you are invaluable and talented, you are all known as my agents by those 'in the know' in this rotter of a city. Please pursue what leads you have, but use a gentle touch. In the meantime, there is the matter of the Goblin." Saul sets his eyes on Variel and stalks over. "My floor manager is missing and perhaps dead. I have lost a dear friend, but I cannot let his work - our work - go to waste. I'd like you to assume his duties as floor manager. You all remain partners with one another, but the other staff will ultimately answer to Variel now. As well..." He waves his key to the group. "The Gold Goblin is a success. You have been invented, brutal when necessary, and above all effective. I am increasing your weekly base pay to 25 gold and please take this bonus." Bojask, silent and scowling, gives you all five platinum pieces. "Please, get some rest."
Defeated, the group head back to the Gold Goblin to recover from their exhausting, frustrating day and get some rest. Saul awaits you upon your return anxiously, and you are lead up to his office by Bojask. "Any word, friends? I saw you question some of the staff and then rush off."
The group take a moment to examine the cloak. Animal blood typically has a distinctive smell to it unique to the animal, this does not appear to be animal blood. Saul stands and paces as the group look over the cloak. "We need to figure out what happened here. Question the staff and see if anybody knew about the loan or repayment. Somebody leaked information and if our dear friend pay the price, we need to find out who and quickly."
Saul gestures for you all to sit, his face ashen as he looks over the cloak and hears the story. He nods slightly as Variel mentions the earlier payment. "You don't engage with a loanshark unless you understand there are risks. I thought an earlier payment - even a small one - to put off any intimidation attempts would be fruitful. All my capital was tied up in setting up the Goblin you see. I didn't mention it as I didn't think it was relevant." He taps his key against the floor a couple of times. "This is most distressing. I have a long history with Larur - he was a quiet, fastidious dwarf whose job was his life. He enjoyed the odd drink and would go out with some friends on occasion, but nothing more than that which I was aware of. I doubt he had personal enemies, any enemies of his would be enemies of mine." Saul rubs his chubby face, letting out a long breath. "We have two options that I can see. Either Smeed was lying - please know the man is a loanshark, his livelihood depends on deceiving angry people with weapons. Or the second option is that something happened to Larur, and Smeed was blamed. It is not without possibility that somebody saw an opportunity to take off my right hand - excuse the pun - and put me at odds with one of the most dangerous criminals in Riddleport in Boss Croat."
The group untie Smeed who is righteously pissed off, but also knows better than to try anything. The group exits with him picking up his notes and swearing under his breath. It's only a twenty minute walk to the Gold Goblin, where they enter. The few staff on site right now wave cheerfully, mentioning that Saul is upstairs. In his office. All of you enter and the rotund man looks up hopefully at all of you, he looks sallow and worried. "You're back, please tell me you found out what happened?"
Saul looks around and spreads his hands. "Good people, I thank you for looking in to this. And Bofur, I will speak with Bojask. I tend to avoid the octahedron as it disagrees with my constitution and he has likely let things slip. Thank you for bringing this to my attention." With that Saul, waddles away.
"Last night, I can give you directions to his flat, it's not too far from here. And he did have the money on him," says Saul unhappily.
GM Rolls:
The week passes well, with Fiona and Thaddeus' double act drawing a good deal of attention. Mutt's bouncers appear to be working as a coordinated force, and trouble-making is at an all time low. Bofur's keen eyes spot a few cheaters from the catwalks, and the Gold Goblin appears to be working well. Finally, the good-natured drunks of Cayden Cailean pour in and have a good time, the combined efforts of the groups ensuring a good time for all. After a period of inactivity, the Octahedron opens up. Thanks to Bofur's efforts the animals are all ready in better shape and it continues to help out the business. One week later, on Sunday, Saul summons all of you to his offices upstairs. He looks grim. "Ahh... colleagues. First off, your pay for the week. We're turning a profit now and so a good fifteen gold each. Splendid work, just splendid. However, ah.." He looks bashful. "Larur Feldin is missing. The last I knew, he was going to stop by the office of a local moneylender to pay off a sizeable amount of debt that I owed. He did not show up to a meeting yesterday, and when I sent a runner to his flat I found it was empty and burgled. No sign of him." Saul paces as he speaks. "I am afraid that something has happened to him, and it may have to do with Lymas Smeed, the moneylender Larur was going to visit. He.. well, was part of how I managed to refurbish the Gold Goblin - I took out a loan using the casino itself as collateral. Two thousand gold - Larur was to pay back 500 of it. The word on the street is that Smeed works for Clegg Zincher, and I am afraid Larur was used to send me a message. I beseech you - could you investigate the veracity of this? You are my men and women on the street. I am very afraid for my friend."
With his imp screeching noisily at the cage up on the ceiling, Saul walks up to the group, shaking Thaddeus' hand. The Balding, rotund man has a twinkle in his eye and as always, an enormous key for his left hand. "A splendid week chaps, splendid. Despite the business with the snake and Clegg Zincher, we're on our way to profitability. The deal with the Publican House was most opportune. Fantastic work! And a pleasure to meet you Thaddeus. I hold Old Horn and Old Scratch get along." Saul gestures with a key up to the caged imp, who spits what are likely foul curses in infernal. "Your pay for the week, each, is ten gold. But for the cleverness of the Blot-themed day and the business with the Publican House I'll give you all a bonus of fifty gold." He turns to Thaddeus. "Now you may have met our resident illusionist Samaritha who helps add a little flair to the evenings. I'm unsure of what kind of magicking you do, but there's a place you can help out. Your co-workers here have put themselves to various tasks here, and I suggest you work with Larur to find how you can best assist the day to day operations of the Goblin." He taps his key-hand against his leg. "That said, I am a busy man with much to do. If you have questions, let me know, otherwise I will bid you a fare well."
"There!" Saul says nervously, pointing his key hand to a bulky, short-haired man quietly playing at a Golem table. He's a recent arrival, and the customers are giving him a wide berth. "Clegg Zincher, one of the greatest crime lords in Riddleport, and our prime competition. He runs the arenas in this part of town, our little octahedron is nothing compared to massive operations he has. And we're in the same neighbourhood. And arenas are just a different kind of gambling. Clegg himself has never played a hand of golem in his life, he's no gambler. He's here to check us out or send a message. Watch him like a hawk! Hell, talk with him if you feel brave. I'm going to be in my quarters." With that, Saul retreats, letting you get back to work and decide what to do, if anything, regarding Clegg.
Saul beams at Fiona. "Splendidly; I could barely pay attention to my own paperwork. You're going to help our reputation a great deal." He then nods over to Mutt. "A more complicated question than you would first think, dear Mutt. But suffice it to say your weekly pay is ten gold. This then varies according to how much profit the casino turns in. Weeks where we do good business, why, could you could make twenty, thirty, or even sixty gold. Weeks where business is poor, you could make nothing. Right now, the returns from tonight aren't too promising. So it'll be eight gold a piece unless we can increase our profitability." He taps his key-hand against his leg as he speaks. "So in order to make a profit we need to drum up business, catch cheaters, put off fights or end them decisively, and think of ways to attract positive attention. Bofur's idea of a Blot-related night. Make it happen, Bofur. You're in charge. Larur will provide funds for an illusionist."
Mechanics of Gold Goblin Profit: Every IG week of play you will be asked to make a skill check, similar to what you did on the casino. This skill check, DC 15 for usual tasks, DC 20 for more difficult ones, will add a bonus to Saul's Profession: Gambler roll. Potential rolls: Bluff - Spend 2 hours a day cajoling citizens and tricking them into visiting. Craft - Spend 2 hours a day creating advertisements. Diplomacy - Spend 2 hours a day greeting customers and managing the help, or 4 hours convincing citizens to go to the Goblin. Intimidate - Spend 2 hours a day working as a bouncer. Or 4 hours a day threatening customers at the competition. Perform - Spend 2 hours a day performing. Profession (gambler) - Spend 2 hours a day crouping or dealing. Perception - Spend 2 hours a day looking for cheaters. Other skills, or even ideas such as visiting rival casinos like you did, will help the profit rating. Be creative!
The drunken lout snarls and stares into Mutt's eyes for a long moment before he slowly, slowly takes a step back, having seen something he was not happy about. "I er... I think we're done here boys!" he calls out in a cracked voice. The former tournament-goers leave without even cashing their chips, likely saving Saul a pretty penny. The crowd start to turn back to their games, but the din cuts away as Saul Vancaskerkin seems to emerge from nowhere, and step up near Fiona on the pedestal. Once her song finishes, he turns to address the crowd, beaming. "Ladies and gentlemen, let it be made clear that the Gold Goblin is under new management! Fiona, Variel, Bofur and.." he leans over. "Who's that scary bastard? Mutt? Really? Okay. MUTT are my business partners and we have a zero tolerance policy on criminal lawlessness. You are my customers, and you come here to be safe and enjoy yourselves, not to exist under perpetual threat of violence. All acts of hostility will be met with force and furthermore, starting tomorrow the Gold Goblin will enforce a NO WEAPONS policy!" There is a mixture of grumbling and applause, but the statement seems to have worked and the rest of the evening is peaceful. Several hours later as the Gold Goblin closes up, Saul makes his way over to the four of you. The gigantic key in the place of his hand glimmers oddly in the low light. "My sincerest apologies for not introducing myself to you earlier, Mutt. I am Saul Vancaskerkin and the owner of this establishment. Unfortunately I have also given you an extra job - make sure all weapons are locked in the cashier's cage until the owners depart the hall. And of course, you are all exempt from the no weapons policy. Tonight was a good start, and I will ask that you all do your part to drum up business. Your first pay will arrive at the end of the week, a cut of profits. So hopefully we have some to share. Now, did any of you have questions for me, ideas, or other things you need to speak on?"
Saul slaps his hand on his leg and smiles. "Excellent, then we have an accord. If you wish to inquire as to who hired Angvar then by all means. I will be pursuing these inquiries my own way. I'd put money on Clegg Zincher regardless, but one never knows which enemies may crop up. And consider their items to be yours, a reward for the good deed. In the future I will add danger pay to such situations." He then grins over at Tahbet. "Ahh, you will want to speak to Bojask then. Below the Gold Goblin is the Octahedron, a Riddleport fighting pit which Bjoask runs. So we already have a setup for this type of betting. I like your idea a great deal, Tahbet and will see that it is enacted. Now, if you will excuse me I must attend to some business. Larur will give you the tour. Please understand that some parts of the Goblin are off-limits; the interior of the vault and my own private chambers for obvious reasons." He leans on his key-hand, standing up. "Now if you will excuse me, I will leave you in the capable hands of Larur as I have business to attend to. A pleasure, all of you."
Saul nods amiably. "Well obviously your skills in a fight are of the greatest importance to me. However, if you are interested in more steady work I need people for... well, everything here. YOu of course would all get rooms - and board if we can find a cook. Some of the duties you could go for are running games, managing staff, 'spotting' whereby you stay on the catwalks or mingle in the crowd to spot cheaters, I have a kitchen that needs running - and so forth. The more you put in, the more we all get out, savvy? You think of how you can be of best use to the Gold Goblin, I trust you all to know yourselves well." Saul finishes his glass. "If you are interested, I will set you up with my man Larur who handles the day-to-day of the place. He can give you a tour. You've met Hans and Beyar, and you will likely run into Bojask as well who is my bodyguard when such is required."
Hans is interrupted as Saul walks up with the dwarf from the cash cage. Saul laughs at taps Hans on the shoulder with his giant key-hand. Despite his tournament being a complete bust, he is in very good spirits. "Bah, let them go. Hired cronies for someone far more powerful. There are still a few people who refuse to believe I'm trying to go straight. Some mercy will help with that." He points his key at Angvar and the other thug. "Go on. Your goods are your forfeit for attacking my tournament, and a reward to my fine defenders here. That was excellent work; most excellent." As Angvar and the thug run off, Saul leads the group to the northwest of the casino, and then up some stairs. "Larur, get some wine please." The dwarf bows his head politely and takes off while Saul leads you to a lavishly furnished room with a roaring fire. The dwarf Larur returns quickly with a bottle of wine, which he uncorks. Saul takes the glass of wine, and gestures with his giant key-hand as he speaks. "Please, have a glass. Andoran - good stuff. Now, I am a man who likes to speak his mind and shall do so. If you were to inquire about me, you'd see that I was a former crime boss. A gang leader. It was a poor choice of industry. My foolishness and hubris cost me my health, my fortune, my family, and my hand." He takes a sip of wine. "My wife is dead. My sons are exiled. So I took what I had left, called in some favours, and bought this fine establishment. This was once one of the greatest gambling halls in Varisia, and I intend to restore it to its former glory." Saul sighs dramatically. "Unfortunately, although you can leave the world of crime, the world of crime does not always leave you. I assume that Clegg Zincher or some other foul bastard organized this hit on my tournament. I want to "go legit" as they say, but the shadow of retribution hangs over me. That mage - Angvar, is a leader of a small gang of toughs who work contracts. I've considered throwing myself at one of my old enemies and work for them in exchange for protection, but that would be a dishonour to my promise to go straight. So..." He points at each one of you in turn. "You fought with a fury and skill I do not see around here frequently. You comport yourselves with grace and intelligence, and frankly you're an intimidating bunch as well. Would you like to work for me, and help an old rogue go legit?"
The thugs all flee screaming and the people around the bar slowly stand up with a 'what the hell just happened' expression on their collective faces. Immediately everybody starts complaining and bickering about their ruined tournament. People surge southwards, calling for refunds and waving their chips around. One of the bouncers has taken a nasty hit, but aside from that there are astonishingly few wounded. Vancaskerkin quickly emerges from the vault area and moves through the crowd before taking the central podium, stepping over one of the bodies. He looks terrified but clears his throat, speaking up. "People! People! Look... we've got ruined tables, chips are everywhere. The tournament is a bust." A roar of outrage comes from the crowd. "But! BUT! Wait, this has to be worth your while. I'll let everyone cash in their chips at one hundred and ten percent! Everyone makes some money tonight!" There's some confusion as people do the math, but soon folks form somewhat orderly lines, muttering about how they're probably coming out ahead anyways. Saul hops down from the podium and looks over the four of you with a gleam in his eye. Despite his apparent near-ruin, he looks fairly pleased. "Nice job you lot. Stay after the tournament for a drink. Loot that fella before the gendarmes do, eh?" He waves his key-hand at the party and makes his way away from the casino floor.
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A waitress shrieks and almost drops a tray of drinks at Tahbet's loud pronouncement. Bofur waits in line to get a try at a dice game while patrons continue to stream in, signing contracts and grabbing drinks. The main floor of the Gold Goblin is soon filled with the rowdy, rough and tumble folk of Riddleport as the imp in the cage above cartoonishly shrieks and swipes at the people far below. As the windows begin darkening with twilight, several gamehall employees enter, carrying torches shaped like pitchforks skewering burning heads made of straw and cloth to light several large braziers, giving the hall a more infernal hue. A hush falls over the gathered crowd as a short man climbs to the central podium, accompanied by two gorgeous “succubi,” and stands before the gold, chain-shrouded chest there with a demoness on either side. He wears a formal suit, and his thinning black hair is slicked back. His left arm ends in a stump just above the wrist, and affixed to it is a bronze cap from which protrudes an oddly shaped key. This is Saul
“Welcome, one and all, to the Gold Goblin Gambling Hall and your chance to cheat the Devil and win back not only your soul but all of his gold as well.” He says this last as he pats the large
“I hope you found your reception by the Devil’s lovely temptresses suitably entertaining.” This is met by a general murmur of laughter and 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 gold for the tournament." With this, Saul directs the crowd’s attention up 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 at all assembled. His theatrics are received with guffaws and even a smattering of 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 the ten thousand silver coins that the Devil put up for this tournament. You can, of course, decide to cash out your winnings at any time you want, but if you do, or if you run out of money entirely… well, that means Old Scratch gets you.” Vancaskerkin grins evilly and the caged imp cuts loose with another
“And that earns you the Devil’s Mark and an escort out of the game hall until the tournament is over. What, you ask, exactly is this Devil’s Mark? Well, it’s something too utterly horrible to even contemplate. The forfeiture of your very soul, it is. But I suppose I can show you what it is— gods know I more than deserve the Devil’s Mark. In fact, better make it two, girls!” With that, the two succubi accompanying him lean over and each firmly plants a kiss on Saul’s cheek with her ruby-red lips. When they pull away, their lip rouge has left clearly visible prints in the same shocking red on his cheeks. Saul beams as he cries out, “The Devil’s Mark, everyone!” which is greeted by a flurry of shouts, catcalls, and hoots. “Now, let’s cheat the Devil and take his gold!” which prompts one more rabid flurry from the imprisoned fiend above.
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