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The sun is setting in a clear sky – rare, during this month of Arodus – as you make your way through the Wharf District of Riddleport. The fading sunlight catches the dark smudge of the Blot high above you, turning the normally coal-black cloud a rich purple against the darkening heavens. In the street ahead of you, a large crowd has gathered in front of your destination, the recently refurbished and reopened Gold Goblin Gambling Hall. Even from some distance away you can hear laughter, conversation and music tumbling out of the building and spilling into the neighborhood around it.
The Gold Goblin is a large, triangle-shaped building, dominated by a central hall that houses the casino floor and dwarfs the smaller, shorter wings that extend east and south. As you mount the stairs to the main entrance along with the other visitors, you pass a tall golden statue of a goblin, fully 8 feet in height, grinning maniacally and leaning on a dogslicer. The figure perches on a pile of glittering gold coins, jewels, and baubles.
Just inside the main doors, a pair of women, wearing fake bat wings, headbands with scarlet horns sewn on them, long felt “tails,” and gauzy red outfits that leave little to the imagination, are playing the parts of succubi as they register participants for the tournament. When you reach one, she cheerfully hands you a contract and offers a quill, already dipped in blood-red ink. The contract reads:
I, _________, do hereby sacrifice my immortal soul and the worldly sum of 10 pieces of silver to the Devil to hold in escrow against his own stake of 10,000 silver coins in the gambling tournament being held at the Gold Goblin Gambling Hall of Riddleport on this Oathday, 14th day or Arodus, 4708 AR.
I understand that my soul will be placed on deposit in the Hells’ deepest pit of Nessus. Furthermore, I understand that all winnings shall be catalogued in concordance of souls, to be represented by the teeth, eyes, and hearts of the damned. By participating in the gambling tournament and beginning in the first pit of Avernus, my winnings shall earn my way through the Hells on the following schedule:
Dis: 1 Gold Eye
Erebus: 3 Gold Eyes and a Badge of Dis
Phlegethon: 5 Gold Eyes and a Badge of Erebus
Stygia: 10 Gold Eyes and a Badge of Phlegethon
Malbolge: 25 Gold Eyes and a Badge of Stygia
Cocytus: 50 Gold Eyes and a Badge of Malbolge
Caina: 75 Gold Eyes and a Badge of Cocytus
Nessus: 100 Gold Eyes and a Badge of Caina
I understand that I may not stake more than 1,000 pieces of silver in this tournament, and that my stake, like my soul, is mine alone, and cannot be shared with another. I further understand that if I should lose my stake in the tournament I shall receive the Devil’s Mark and my soul shall be cast upon the rocks on the shore of the River Styx.
I understand that if I elect to cash in my winnings before reaching the Pit of Nessus I shall forfeit my soul and 50% of the cash value of my winnings for said early departure.
If I am the first player to reach Nessus, then I am granted the redemption of my soul and the right to Cheat the Devil and Take His Gold in addition to taking my winnings. In such a circumstance, all other players shall receive the Devil’s Mark and forfeit their souls.
This I do swear.
Witnessed by: __Old Scratch___
The main floor of the gambling hall is a cavernous place, nevertheless filled now with sound, light, and people. Dozens of gamblers – mostly human, but including a handful of dwarves, half-elves, half-orcs, and even a tiefling or two as well – crowd around tables, throwing dice or spinning flashing wheels, while more “succubi,” again dressed in red corsets and sporting horns and tails (though not wings), hoist trays full of drinks as they weave through the crowd. In the center of the room is a short podium or dais, on which you can see a gaudy golden chest, fixed to the floor with sturdy-looking silver chains. On either side of the chest stand two large men, bare-chested and wearing the loose pants and turbans of some distant Kelish sultan’s court, their hands resting lightly on the hilts of large scimitars thrust into their belts. Hanging just above their heads is a small brass cage, as for a large bird, that contains a crouching purple-skinned figure, sporting what look to be real bat wings and a lashing, barbed tail. The tiny devilish figure glowers at the gamblers entering the room, occasionally snarling something in a high-pitched voice and rattling the cage threateningly.
At a cashier's cage in the far left corner of the room, you buy your chips: dull-red "copper hearts" for your copper pieces, dull-gray "silver teeth" for your silver, and dull-yellow "golden eyes" for your gold. These, you realize, are the "teeth, eyes, and hearts of he damned" mentioned in the contract. With your chips in hand, you turn to survey the room.
Scattered around the hall, you can see tables holding craps and bounders games, boards for skiffs games, and long tables with wheels set in them for roulette. In addition, a strange game featuring what looks to be a head mounted on a roulette-type wheel stands on the far side of the hall, and in rooms just to your left, you can see what look to be games of blackjack, poker, and golem.
Standing outside the Golden Goblin is a unique figure. As is not uncommon with half-orcs, he's not much to look at, but he is unusual. Just over 5' 6" and easily 250 lb, he's broader at the hip and shoulder than average, leading some to speculate that his "other half" might be dwarf rather than human. At least one drunken dwarf has bitterly denied this possibility because "dwarven blood would overcome the impurities of the orc blood and the child would be a dwarf" or something like that. In truth, he's not as broad as a typical dwarf, and he can't grow a very good beard -- he's tried. He wears the clothes of a beggar, but they hang loose even on his big frame and show relatively few holes despite their dirty condition. He carries an old sack that might contain all of his worldly possessions in it.
He's obviously trying very hard not to stare at the lovely ladies working the entrance, or at least trying not to be obvious about staring. He's not doing either particularly well.
Clifford will enter the Hall with a smile on his face. After perusing the document , he will sign it . He will cash 35 Golden eyes and 50 Silver Teeth and begin to look around for games .
Seeing the skiffs game, he will hurry to it. If possible, he will bet 24 silver teeth (I'm not sure if we can bet gold or silver) or 20 golden eyes (marked preference for silver there]
Gaming Result13 + 7 ( profession gamble with int) + 5 or 7 = 25 for gold and 27 for silver
"Jagor, we gamble now?" says Makoa as he approaches The Gold Goblin. He will refuse to sign the contract, but give the 'succubus' the money anyway. He'll enter after she explains to him the 'rules', and he'll accept. Looking to Jagor, "I go to Ghoullette". Once going to ghoullette, he'll place his money (1gp each) on Appearance, Hygene, and Race.
[ooc]What you might already know about the Blot (roll all that you wish, and read all that you make the DC for):
No ranks in Knowledge = no rolls, right?
No ranks in Knowledge = no rolls, right?
Seeing the skiffs game, he will hurry to it. If possible, he will bet 24 silver teeth (I'm not sure if we can bet gold or silver) or 20 golden eyes (marked preference for silver there]
Gaming Result13 + 7 ( profession gamble with int) + 5 or 7 = 25 for gold and 27 for silver
As Clifford walks away from the cashier's window, he catches a voice calling to the crowd, "Get your racers ready and your skiffs anchored down! There's a storm a-comin'!" With a pleased smile, he moves quickly toward the skiffs table, surprised to find a game here.
Clifford takes a seat at one of the skiffs tables, not surprised to discover that he is not the only halfling at the table - a muscled halfling in the garb of a sailor has joined the three human men and one human woman that sit across from Clifford.
The dealer, a balding man wearing the same red livery as the other croupiers around the hall, takes the players' money and passes around their skiffs. Placing one skiff from each player in a separate bowl, the dealer scoops the rest of the skiffs into the bowl called the "storm," gives it a few tosses to mix them up, then calls, "Here comes the storm!" in a theatrical tone as he upends the bowl over the gameboard in a smooth, practiced motion. Skiffs fall every which way, piling together in some boxes and leaving others almost empty. There is a long pause as all the players lean forward to study the initial layout.
Then the dealer reaches into the bowl and pulls one out - Clifford's. He shows it to the table, then turns to Clifford and says, "Your move."
The game starts out quickly - one of the humans manages to wipe himself out almost immediately, and the woman and another of the men quickly fade from contention. The game develops into a three way contest between Clifford, the other halfling, and a tall human in a dark tunic and breeches who carries a sickle on his belt, along with what looks like a spell component pouch. The game seesaws between the three for some time before Clifford manages to spark a dispute between the other two, resulting in a brief distructive exchange that weakens both their positions. Along with Clifford's initial advantage in skiffs (he bought more than anyone else at the table), it's enough to give him the game.
The other halfling nods appreciatively at the end result, but the human spellcaster grunts in irritation and tosses a glare at Clifford. Clifford decides to find a game elsewhere, and ducks into the card rooms across the hall, watching the various poker tables for awhile.
"Jagor, we gamble now?" says Makoa as he approaches The Gold Goblin. He will refuse to sign the contract, but give the 'succubus' the money anyway. He'll enter after she explains to him the 'rules', and he'll accept. Looking to Jagor, "I go to Ghoullette". Once going to ghoullette, he'll place his money (1gp each) on Appearance, Hygene, and Race.
A large crowd stands around the ghoulette table as Makoa walks up to it; it seems to be a popular spectator event. The half-orc makes his way to the table and places his bets. The table itself is a long mahogany surface with a circle carved into the middle. The circle is divided into sections, alternating red and purple wedges that contain gold-leaf calligraphy spelling out the insult topic each sponsors. In the center of the circle a human head, clearly animated but nevertheless decayed and rotting, is mounted on a horizontal wheel.
The croupier, an attractive human woman in blood-red livery and with the same fake horns as the waitresses and door greeters (she lacks a tail or wings, however), reaches forward and gives the head a spin. Immediately shouting breaks out as gamblers and spectators alike call for topics they want the wheel to stop on - "Appearance!" "Race! Race!" "Presence! Hit Presence!" - but the shouts quiet down in strange parallel to the slowing of the wheel. Finally, the wheel stops, pointing at "Bloodline." A couple of pleased shouts and several moans can be heard, but they are cut off by the ghoulish head, which begins to speak.
"Ha!" it says, in a resonant baritone that is completely at odds with its putrescent appearance, as it looks at a broad-faced human woman wearing a rich silk dress. "So those human/donkey rat breeding experiments worked out in the end, did they?" A wave of laughter rolls across the crowd, including the woman (though she does flush a bit), which is almost enough to distract Makoa from the table, where the croupier has done something to make the wedges of the circle drop downward, creating slides that carry his gold chips - along with those of the other players - away. A couple of lucky gamblers get chips from the croupier, but the rest seem to take this in stride, and in moments the table is level once again, waiting for more bets.
Makoa, upset at his loss. Tries again, this time putting 1g chip on Presence, Skill, and Brains. "Dammat, me want money. Stoopid head," Makoa says, referring to the ghoul head. "Jagor! You play ghoul head too! At least it funny, even if you not win." With that, he waits to see what happens the next round.
After signing the contract, Hezekiah will buy 2 eyes, 20 teeth and 200 hearts. He will spend all the teeth at the skiffs table, then saunter over to the ghoulette and spend his eyes on Personal Hygiene and Appearance in successive rounds. After that he will be playing blackjack until he runs out of hearts. If he wins anything at the other tables, he'll keep it. He's more interested in watching the tides of fortune than actually playing.
Scanning the sky to see the Blot, Ghorum shakes his head and continues on into the Golden Goblin.
"Bloody weird, that is...", he mutters to himself. Placing his hand on his coin-purse, he smiles warmly at the two beauties at the door. Perusing the scroll, he hands it back unsigned, saying "Sorry, love. My soul is the only thing that is truly mine. I would be mad to part with it!"
As she leans down to whisper in his ear that he only really needs to pay the cover, he gladly does so, handing over a gold piece. He then heads to the cashiers booth to get some chips.
"Now then, off to the craps tables!", he says. Finding the craps tables, he proceeds to bet 10 silver on his first roll.
After signing the contract, Hezekiah will buy 2 eyes, 20 teeth and 200 hearts. He will spend all the teeth at the skiffs table,
Hezekiah's game of skiffs, against five other human players, seems distinctly lopsided. Much like Hezekiah himself, most of the other players seem to be duffers, playing the game as best they can, but with no particular sign of familiarity or deep strategy. The exception, however, is a human man with a short dark beard, black shirt and breeches, and a spell component pouch balancing a small sickle on his belt. Whoever the man is, he's noticably more familiar with the game than the rest of the players, and even when some of the others join forces against him, he wins quite easily.
Makoa, upset at his loss. Tries again, this time putting 1g chip on Presence, Skill, and Brains. "Dammat, me want money. Stoopid head," Makoa says, referring to the ghoul head. "Jagor! You play ghoul head too! At least it funny, even if you not win." With that, he waits to see what happens the next round.
After another flurry of betting, the croupier sets the head spinning again, to the same burst of shouting as before. To the great disappointment of the onlookers - particularly Makoa - the head stops once again on "Bloodline." Makoa's irritation comes not just from losing his bets, however, but also because the head is looking right at him.
"So which one was the blind one - your mother or your father?" the head asks him, to another roar of laughter.
"Now then, off to the craps tables!", he says. Finding the craps tables, he proceeds to bet 10 silver on his first roll.
roll 3=10; roll 4=8; roll 5=3; roll 6=10; roll 7=11; roll 8=10; roll 9=3; roll 10=3; roll 11=3; roll 12=6; roll 13=9
After a marathon session of dice throwing, tension mounting and bets flying around him, Ghorum finally manages to throw his point again, winning 10 silver teeth. The crowd roars when the numbers finally appear on the ivory dice, shouts of victory and agonized loss both as the bettors around him grab their money or watch their chips get taken away.
"Waah! Dammat head! Make me win!" Makoa is furious at this point and gambles his remaining 9 'eyes', 3 each on Presence, Clothes, and Profession.
Following Makoa, Jagor pretends to study the contract closely until the fellow behind him starts to growl, then points to a spot on the paper and asks the woman "demon," "What means this?"
When she explains the portion he's pointing at, he shakes his head, "No, all paper - says what?" She looks at him like he's an idiot for just a split second before professionalism takes over and she gives him a quick summary of the rules, takes his gold piece, and sends him into the room -- without requiring a signature. Walking away, he smiles to himself thinking, "Jagor not smart, but it never bad to look dumber than Jagor is."
He spends the better part of the first 30 minutes walking around the casino floor, finds the cage where he can get chips and the many tables of interest. He finally goes to the cage for chips and painstakingly counts out 4 gp, 9 sp, and 10 cp that were scattered throughout his sack and gets 50 teeth from the exasperated cashier.
He works his way back to the blackjack tables and finding a seat, plays five rounds, betting two silver teeth on each play.
5 hands of Blackjack (1d20+8=13, 1d20+8=25, 1d20+8=9, 1d20+8=28, 1d20+8=16)
Jagor loses on the first and third hands, but wins on the other three, for a net gain of two silver teeth.
As Makoa places his next set of bets, a well-dressed human appears (Hezekiah) and places a bet on Personal Hygiene. The other players put their chips down as well, but the croupier smiles impishly and says, "Your pardon, gentles, but I believe we are about to have a speech." She gestures toward the dais in the center of the room, and indeed, something seems to be happening there.
A short human man, perhaps in his late 40s, steps up to the dais, accompanied by the two "succubi" from the door. He has a solid, squarish build, thinning grey-black hair, a short beard, and a cane in his right hand. His left hand, however, has been apparently severed at the wrist at some point, now having been replaced with what appears to be a large brass key. Around the room, the dealers have stopped their games and indicated the figure on the dais, even as he clears his throat and calls out, "Attention! Your attention everyone, please!
"My name is Saul Vancaskerin, and it is my honor to be your host this evening. 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 his gold as well." As Vancaskerin says this last, he waves his cane toward the large ornate chest behind him. He turns back to the crowd, putting an arm around each of the girls he is with and pulling them slightly closer. "I trust you all found your welcome from the Devil's delicious beauties suitably entertaining?" At the crowd's roar of approval, he smiles broadly.
"Let's take a moment and thank Old Scratch himself for attending this event," Vancaskerin adds, pointing his cane toward the cage overhead and the demonic figure inside. "Not only did he loan us these lovely dark angels, but he also emptied the deepest pits of Hell to provide the gold for this tournament!" As the room bursts into applause, the tiny figure in the cage roars again in its high-pitched voice and shakes the bars.
"Of course, he plans to replace what he loses in gold with the souls of those here assembled. Currently, you're all trapped in the first of the Devil's Hells, Avernus. As it said on the contract you signed when you arrived, if you want out, you have to go down - and to go down, you have to win games. The more you win, the further down you go, and the closer you get to Nessus, the deepest Circle of Hell. The first player to reach Nessus not only keeps his winnings, but also wins back his soul and gets to claim the ten thousand silver coins the Devil put up for this tournament. You can, of course, decide to cash out your winnings at any time, but if you do, or if you run out of money entirely, well, that means Old Scratch gets you."
Vancaskerin grins evilly as the caged devil begins another screeching tirade. "Here's the thing, though. When Old Scratch gets his talons into your soul, that earns you the Devil's Mark and an escort out of the tournament. What is the Devil's Mark, you ask? Well, it's utterly too horrible to contemplate. The forfeiture of your soul, it is. Still, I suppose I can show it to you. Gods know, I more than deserve the Devil's Mark. In fact, better make it two, girls!"
As Vancaskerin says this, the two "succubi" lean toward him, each planting a loud, wet kiss on his cheeks. As they pull away, you can all see the ruby-red prints of their lipstick on his cheeks. Vancaskerin beams as he cries out, "The Devil's Mark, everyone!" The crowd roars, laughs, and hollers, and over it all, Vancaskerin calls, "So let's cheat the Devil and take his gold!"
"Waaahhhh!" Makoa yells with the crowd, cheering on with a raised fist. After the announcement is finished, he'll hurriedly get back to his position at the ghoullette table and eagerly await the continued gambling.
"Waaahhhh!" Makoa yells with the crowd, cheering on with a raised fist. After the announcement is finished, he'll hurriedly get back to his position at the ghoullette table and eagerly await the continued gambling.
Once the crowd quiets down, the gamblers near the ghoulette wheel turn their attention back to the game. The croupier spins the head, and all nearby watch as it slows and stop on "Profession." Looking at an extremely well-endowed woman wearing dark leather and an eyepatch, the head shouts, "Lady, you need to get yourself a job as a bellows at the Gas Forges - but then, with as little as you've got going on upstairs, maybe you already have!" With an angry snort, the woman turns on her heel and stalks into the crowd, trailed by mocking laughter all the way.
"Bwahahahaha!" Makoa laughs heartily. "Me think me done. Wonder what Jagor doing." Makoa will take his chips and join Jagor. "You win yet?"
"Bwahahahaha!" Makoa laughs heartily. "Me think me done. Wonder what Jagor doing." Makoa will take his chips and join Jagor. "You win yet?"
"I not play much, win a little. How you do?"
He places 5 sp on each of the following five hands.
Blackjack rolls; 5 sp bet on each (1d20+8=22, 1d20+8=9, 1d20+8=22, 1d20+8=16, 1d20+8=11)
Jagor wins the first two hands easily, then gets cocky and hits one more time than he should on the third hand. Stung, he is much more cautious on the fourth hand, waffling for some time on whether to hit on his 15. He finally decides not to, and pulls out a win when the dealer goes bust instead. On the fifth hand, however, he feels pretty good with his 20 - and stares in disappointment when the dealer hits on 13 and pulls an 8, landing precisely on 21.
Perception check (1d20+2=20)
Makoa nudges Jagor, "Dat guy here. 'Member? He wanted other guy be my boss. Jasker me thinks him called. Boss Croat want be my boss." Makoa seems a bit angry, "I smash face if he start wit me."
Jagor wins the first two hands easily, then gets cocky and hits one more time than he should on the third hand. Stung, he is much more cautious on the fourth hand, waffling for some time on whether to hit on his 15. He finally decides not to, and pulls out a win when the dealer goes bust instead. On the fifth hand, however, he feels pretty good with his 20 - and stares in disappointment when the dealer hits on 13 and pulls an 8, landing precisely on 21.
"Makoa, we have company. No fight here, old friend." He makes a general motion in the direction of the man he's spotted. [ooc]Would that give him a free peek at the spoiler, if he didn't make the roll already?
Jagor continues his tentative play at the table and it appears continues his pattern of winning:
5 Hands of Blackjack; 5 sp bets on each (1d20+8=12, 1d20+8=19, 1d20+8=10, 1d20+8=21, 1d20+8=17)
"Dammat! What if he not alone? He bring friend to make Makoa join them." Makoa says angrily. He looks around the Gold Goblin to see if he can spot any other of Croats men.
Perception (1d20+2=19)
After taking a little time to check the skills of the people playing at poker Clifford take his pillow , put it on a chair then sit down.
He will put 2 gp
First gambler roll 10+ 4 = 14
Bluff&Sense Motive He succeeds in his bluff but not his sense motive
He decides to continue nevertheless
Second gambler check 19 + 4 prof + 2 first roll + 2 bluff = 27 Yipeee !
Jagor continues his tentative play at the table and it appears continues his pattern of winning:
5 Hands of Blackjack; 5 sp bets on each (1d20+8=12, 1d20+8=19, 1d20+8=10, 1d20+8=21, 1d20+8=17)
He does indeed. He wins the 2nd, 4th, and 5th hands, though that last one involves another risky move on Jagor’s part. He winds up another 5 sp ahead.
"Dammat! What if he not alone? He bring friend to make Makoa join them." Makoa says angrily. He looks around the Gold Goblin to see if he can spot any other of Croats men.
Perception (1d20+2=19)
Makoa doesn’t see any other half-orcs in the area, and as far as he knows, Croat employs no other kind. For what it’s worth, Jasker seems more interested in checking out the gambling hall itself than worrying about Makoa or Jagor – in fact, you don‘t really see any sign that Jasker has spotted the two of you yet in the crowd.
After taking a little time to check the skills of the people playing at poker Clifford take his pillow , put it on a chair then sit down.
He will put 2 gp
First gambler roll 10+ 4 = 14
There are five other players around the table with Clifford: four humans and a half-orc. The latter individual looks extremely unsettling with his many visible scars, and the rest of the group seems to be giving him a wide berth.
Bluff&Sense Motive He succeeds in his bluff but not his sense motive
He decides to continue nevertheless
Second gambler check 19 + 4 prof + 2 first roll + 2 bluff = 27 Yipeee !
Betting on the first round reaches a gold piece, but along the way two of the humans drop out. Clifford discards two cards, hoping to build on his high pair, and pulls a full house. Confident now, he pushes the bidding up to another gold piece, trying not to let his hand show. All three of his opponents stay in, and Clifford gets to savor their expressions as they look at his cards against their own three of a kind, flush, and straight, respectively. With a grin, Clifford collects his winnings.
Though most of the other players offer the halfling an annoyed glare, the half-orc takes his loss with surprising equanimity.
'Just halfling luck, guys'
I'll convert 1 Golden Eye to a badge of Dis and continue to play
This time , I'll begin with 2 Gp
Prof Gambler 11+4 15
Bluff18+7,SenseMotive11+4
Feeling lucky , Clifford will add 5gp
prof gambler 17+10 27 I'm in luck for the moment ...
Whatever the result , Clifford will stop for a moment . If he wins he will buy an Erebus badge and will try to know how advanced are the others players yet
"Jagor not do so bad, eh, Makoa?" Jagor watches each turn of the cards intently, making a show of counting out the pips on his fingers.
Five more hands of blackjack:
Five hands of blackjack; 5sp bets each hand (1d20+8=10, 1d20+8=25, 1d20+8=13, 1d20+8=22, 1d20+8=17)
Makoa doesn’t see any other half-orcs in the area, and as far as he knows, Croat employs no other kind. For what it’s worth, Jasker seems more interested in checking out the gambling hall itself than worrying about Makoa or Jagor – in fact, you don‘t really see any sign that Jasker has spotted the two of you yet in the crowd.
"Hmm. Curious. Me wonder." Makoa looks to Jagor, "I be back. Me ask questions." Makoa will approach Jasker, "You lost?" he says in a not so angry tone.
After a marathon session of dice throwing, tension mounting and bets flying around him, Ghorum finally manages to throw his point again, winning 10 silver teeth. The crowd roars when the numbers finally appear on the ivory dice, shouts of victory and agonized loss both as the bettors around him grab their money or watch their chips get taken away.
"Ah hah! Yes! Thank you!", says Ghorum.
Placing another 10 silver teeth down, he grabs the dice, gives a quick shake, and rolls!
"Jagor not do so bad, eh, Makoa?" Jagor watches each turn of the cards intently, making a show of counting out the pips on his fingers.
Five more hands of blackjack:
Five hands of blackjack; 5sp bets each hand (1d20+8=10, 1d20+8=25, 1d20+8=13, 1d20+8=22, 1d20+8=17)
Jagor’s winning pattern continues, as he loses on the first and third hands, but picks up wins on the second, fourth, and fifth hands. His little pile of dull-grey chips is growing nicely.
'Just halfling luck, guys'
I'll convert 1 Golden Eye to a badge of Dis and continue to playThis time , I'll begin with 2 Gp
Apparently the first betting round is a little rich, because two of the humans drop out almost immediately. Just as the time comes for the half-orc Jasker Gant to bet, however, he is interrupted by someone.
"Hmm. Curious. Me wonder." Makoa looks to Jagor, "I be back. Me ask questions." Makoa will approach Jasker, "You lost?" he says in a not so angry tone.
Jasker turns to Makoa, looking only a little surprised; though he is apparently in the middle of a game, he turns over his cards when the time comes for him to bet, indicating that he is dropping out. Jasker, like Jagor, is not terribly large for a half-orc, and Makoa assumes that, like Jagor, Jasker is more dangerous than he looks – otherwise, as a half-orc, he’d probably be dead.
“Mmm. Makoa,” Jasker says in acknowledgement. He looks around the room, spotting Jagor almost at once. “And friend, too. Nice seeing you again.” Jasker’s Common is noticeably better than Jagor’s and Makoa’s, suggesting he’s been in among the other races longer. “No, not lost. Just looking around. I know people who are curious about how Saul is doing, is all.” His eyes focus on Makoa’s face. “Still looking for work? My friends would still hire you.”
Prof Gambler 11+4 15
Bluff18+7,SenseMotive11+4
Feeling lucky , Clifford will add 5gp
prof gambler 17+10 27 I'm in luck for the moment ...
Managing to fake the appearance of a low hand and a certain amount of desperation, Clifford lures the remaining two opponents into sticking with the game as the betting rises and rises, finally topping out at 5 gp. The man on Clifford’s left turns over a two pair, and the woman across the table flips three of a kind, but Clifford once again has a full house, and grins gleefully as he pulls in his 14 gold eyes.
Whatever the result , Clifford will stop for a moment . If he wins he will buy an Erebus badge and will try to know how advanced are the others players yet
Clifford picks up his Erebus badge and discreetly asks the cashier how the tournament is going. Diplomacy (1d20+7=13) The cashier, a round-faced human with a slight underbite, grins at him and says, “Oh, you’re doing all right, never fear, never fear!”
Hezekiah will spend his eyes on Personal Hygiene and Appearance in successive rounds. After that he will be playing blackjack until he runs out of hearts. If he wins anything at the other tables, he'll keep it.
Having lost once at ghoulette at the same time as a half-orc won big, Hezekiah drops another gold eye on Appearance. The croupier smiles at him and spins the head, which comes up on “Your Brains.” The head, looking at a large man carrying a variety of small weaponry, says, “Wow, look at all that hardware! How many knives are you carrying? No, never mind – I don’t want you to have to try to count when you’ve run out of fingers.” Another set of laughs carries across the group. Hezekiah watches another gold chip slip beneath the table and disappear.
"Ah hah! Yes! Thank you!", says Ghorum.
Placing another 10 silver teeth down, he grabs the dice, gives a quick shake, and rolls!
“High roller, high roller!” shouts someone in the crowd, as Ghorum collects his chips. “To Cayden!” shouts another man, apparently having spotted the holy symbol on the dwarf’s chest. Several other patrons reply “To Cayden!” as well, as once full mugs and glasses are suddenly empty. Ghorum notices a sudden shift in the betting on his dice – the chips are piling up in support of his next throw.
Jasker turns to Makoa, looking only a little surprised; though he is apparently in the middle of a game, he turns over his cards when the time comes for him to bet, indicating that he is dropping out. Jasker, like Jagor, is not terribly large for a half-orc, and Makoa assumes that, like Jagor, Jasker is more dangerous than he looks – otherwise, as a half-orc, he’d probably be dead.
“Mmm. Makoa,” Jasker says in acknowledgement. He looks around the room, spotting Jagor almost at once. “And friend, too. Nice seeing you again.” Jasker’s Common is noticeably better than Jagor’s and Makoa’s, suggesting he’s been in among the other races longer. “No, not lost. Just looking around. I know people who are curious about how Saul is doing, is all.” His eyes focus on Makoa’s face. “Still looking for work? My friends would still hire you.”
"Me said before. Makoa need no boss, but not too dumb to turn down job. I not be part of gang, but I could work. If you need job done, I do it for money. But never be part of gang. Got it?" Makoa huffs as if to calm himself. "Why people curious 'bout Saul?" he asks Jasker.
Having lost once at ghoulette at the same time as a half-orc won big, Hezekiah drops another gold eye on Appearance. The croupier smiles at him (and his bird?) and spins the head, which comes up on “Your Brains.” The head, looking at a large man carrying a variety of small weaponry, says, “Wow, look at all that hardware! How many knives are you carrying? No, never mind – I don’t want you to have to try to count when you’ve run out of fingers.” Another set of laughs carries across the group. Hezekiah watches another gold chip slip beneath the table and disappear.
Hezekiah sticks to his original plan, only pausing to ponder the sinking feeling of seeing his hard-earned gold lost in the wink of an eye. He sidles over to the blackjack table and divides his hearts into five small piles. Studying the other players intently, he makes his bet of four hearts, five times. Rolls:13, 13, 16, 13, 20
Jagor stays with his plan up to now:
5 hands of Blackjack; 5 sp bet on each (1d20 8=13, 1d20 8=28, 1d20 8=16, 1d20 8=18, 1d20 8=20)
Jagor is pleased with his improving luck, but keeps an eye on Makoa and Jasker to make sure there's no trouble. He scans the casino for other half-orcs or other possible trouble.
"Me said before. Makoa need no boss, but not too dumb to turn down job. I not be part of gang, but I could work. If you need job done, I do it for money. But never be part of gang. Got it?" Makoa huffs as if to calm himself. "Why people curious 'bout Saul?" he asks Jasker.
Jasker shakes his head, showing his tusks. “We need people we can trust. Not outsiders. If you in, you in. If you out, you out. That simple.” He waves away the question about Saul, collecting his chips and heading toward the cashier’s cage. In a few moments, he has cashed out and left the Gold Goblin.
Jagor stays with his plan up to now:
5 hands of Blackjack; 5 sp bet on each (1d20 8=13, 1d20 8=28, 1d20 8=16, 1d20 8=18, 1d20 8=20)
Jagor has a run of good luck, winning four hands in a row after a tough hit/stand choice on the first one. He adds more 12 silver teeth to his collection.
Hezekiah sticks to his original plan, only pausing to ponder the sinking feeling of seeing his hard-earned gold lost in the wink of an eye. He sidles over to the blackjack table and divides his hearts into five small piles. Studying the other players intently, he makes his bet of four hearts, five times. Rolls:13, 13, 16, 13, 20
Being largely unfamiliar with the game, Hezekiah has some trouble figuring out when to hit and when to stand, though he's able to make some guesses as he goes. Three of his piles disappear, but two return doubled, so he winds up only down four copper from when he started. Hezekiah notices that most of his fellow players, including the half-orc playing next to him, are playing for silver instead of copper, but the dealer seems unconcerned.
"Me said before. Makoa need no boss, but not too dumb to turn down job. I not be part of gang, but I could work. If you need job done, I do it for money. But never be part of gang. Got it?" Makoa huffs as if to calm himself. "Why people curious 'bout Saul?" he asks Jasker.
Jasker shakes his head, showing his tusks. “We need people we can trust. Not outsiders. If you in, you in. If you out, you out. That simple.” He waves away the question about Saul, collecting his chips and heading toward the cashier’s cage. In a few moments, he has cashed out and left the Gold Goblin.
Jagor stays with his plan up to now:
5 hands of Blackjack; 5 sp bet on each (1d20 8=13, 1d20 8=28, 1d20 8=16, 1d20 8=18, 1d20 8=20)
Jagor has a run of good luck, winning four hands in a row after a tough hit/stand choice on the first one. He adds more 12 silver teeth to his collection.
Hezekiah sticks to his original plan, only pausing to ponder the sinking feeling of seeing his hard-earned gold lost in the wink of an eye. He sidles over to the blackjack table and divides his hearts into five small piles. Studying the other players intently, he makes his bet of four hearts, five times. Rolls:13, 13, 16, 13, 20
Being largely unfamiliar with the game, Hezekiah has some trouble figuring out when to hit and when to stand, though he's able to make some guesses as he goes. Three of his piles disappear, but two return doubled, so he winds up only down four copper from when he started. Hezekiah notices that most of his fellow players, including the half-orc playing next to him, are playing for silver instead of copper, but the dealer seems unconcerned.
Perception&Sense motive 24 , 22
DM only
Hezekiah is engrossed in the game that he barely is getting a grip on when Gilbert squeezes his shoulder with his claws, alerting him to a disturbance nearby. Hezekiah gathers what's left of his chips and goes to have a peek.
Perception (1d20 2=19)
"Hey Jagor, what going on over there? Maybe trouble."
Sense Motive (1d20 2=11)
Sense motive on the man in the privy:
Jagor thinks to himself, I've got a bad feeling about this, but scoops his chips into his bag, closes his eyes, and listens intently.
In response to Makoa's warning, Jagor turns toward him, points to his face, and says, "Close eyes!" His eyes remain closed as he says this.
Initiative:
The rhythm of the gambling hall seems to stutter slightly, and you all find yourselves distracted by it. Hezekiah, Ghorum, and Makoa all start to look around for the source of the disturbance, while Jagor and Clifford both manage to identify the possible cause – or causes, as the case seems to be. As your attention is drawn away from your games, there is suddenly a blindingly bright flash from the center of the casino floor – literally blinding, as it happens. Though Makoa, Jagor and Hezekiah are mostly shielded from the effect (and Jagor has his eyes closed anyway), Clifford is protected only by his tightly squeezed eyelids, and Ghorum is directly in the light’s effect. (The light is bright enough you can see it through closed lids, if you happen to have shut them.)
Screams of shock and surprise erupt across the gambling hall, as the tournament players and casino workers alike suddenly find themselves unable to see.
Amidst the general chaos and disorder, four men, all standing near a woman with a distinctive eyepatch in the central part of the casino, produce what look like saps and begin to move toward the guards near the tournament prize chest and along the wall.