[WFRP] Gold of the Phantom

[-Sentinel-]

Sergio rolled his eyes.
"Sunken ship with treasure?" snorted the old shipwright. "Sounds like a classic con to me. Man comes to town, says he knows where to find a treasure and now just needs some money to go and get it..." He shrugged. "But one thing is sure, that man is worth a lot. I don't like the smell of this kidnapping story, but if there's gold in it, I'm fine with it."

Wilhelm grumbled something under his breath about having a thirteen person on board, but then again, he had also objected to having a woman on board when Svanhildur joined the crew, so no one took him too seriously. Most of the others were visibly interested.

"What's our share in it?" inquired Arturo rather insolently, eyeing the gold.

[goblinpaladin]

"Wilhelm, you know that the gods do not count prisoners when tallying those aboard ship. Seigneur Rico shall not be a thirteenth man; rather, he is a piece of living luggage."

OOC EDIT: Snipping the bit about coinage until it's sorted in the OOC thread. Let's move on in the meantime; it would be the standard breakdown.

[-Sentinel-]

"Is that settled? Yes?" Renard cracked his knuckles. "Good. Let's get to work, then. I want us to be gone by dawn."

[hr]


Although Luccini was a large city, its jail was small, for it was meant only for temporary detention: drunken troublemakers were freed the next day, while those guilty of anything more serious than petty theft were shipped to a penal colony or hanged within a week or two. No fence surrounded the square-shaped building and no guard stood in front of it; one could easily lean against the brick wall and smoke a pipe, or even take a stroll in one of the foul-smelling backstreets around the place.

But this jail, precisely because of its simplicity, would be hard to break in. Its windows, a dozen of them per wall, were placed about ten feet above ground level and barely wider than arrowslits. There was only one entrance: a sturdy wooden door reinforced with steel.

From dusk to dawn, four street lamps were lit (two near the door and two on the other side of Vine Street), so that there remained no spot of shadows in front of the building.

[hr]


OOC for Dairuin and Svanhildur: That's a Challenging (-10%) Gossip test to find the name and address of a forger, but there will be a bonus if you ask "nicely" at the right kind of place.

[LCP]

"Gino, come with me," said Renard. "The rest of you, scout around the outside. Check all the exterior walls, and meet us back here."

Straightening his hat, he walked directly up to the front door, and knocked.

[Xsesiv]

Gino clanked over to behind and to the left of Renard. "You want him beaten up? Scared? Just my moral support? Captain?" He put his hand on his sword and tried to look as relaxed as he could.

[LCP]

"Au contraire, Gino, I merely wish to appear a man who can afford a bodyguard," murmured Renard, grinning. "It is the gaoler we have to get past, not Monsieur Rico. He will be more pliable if he thinks he is talking to a man of means."

[Xsesiv]

"I was talking about the guard," grunted Gino, but he released his grip on the sword. Although, a few quick slaps of the blade to Rico would do him no harm at all. Especially if it led to a boatload of wealth.

[-Sentinel-]

When Renard knocked, a dog's bark was heard from inside the jail. After a long moment the sturdy door was unbolted and slowly opened, but the door chain remained in place. A face scarred by the green pox stared out at Renard and Gino from the narrow opening.

"What's it about?" growled the jailer warily.

[LCP]

Renard took off his hat to the man, smiling broadly.

"Good evening, monsieur," he said. "You have a prisoner here I wish to visit. I don't suppose my friend and I could be allowed in?"

OOC: If I need one, here's a Fel roll of some sort: (1d100)[79]

[-Sentinel-]

The jailer spat.

"Oh, visits now? Think this is the zoo of Altdorf? Think I'll let two armed strangers waltz into my gaol in the middle of the night? Think again."

[LCP]

"If it is the weapons you object to, we would be happy to leave them behind," said Renard, not breaking his cheerful persona. "I understand there is a small fee, to visit a prisoner? I am sure we could trust your good self to take care of that, no?"

[-Sentinel-]

"Tried and failed already, friend," said the jailer in a tone that was in fact none too friendly. "I ain't new on the job, I know the tricks. Another pair of idiots tried this one only two days ago. Went so far as to threaten me. With this." A flintlock pistol appeared in the narrow opening, pointed directly at Renard's face. "As you can see, mate, it didn't work out too well for 'em."

[LCP]

Renard blinked as the firearm was thrust in his face.

"I must have been mistaken. Apologies, monsieur." He paused. "Although I would be interested to hear more about these men who were here before. I don't suppose you could tell me about them?" He jingled the coins in his pocket. "I am always willing to make a donation to the well-being of a lawman."

[-Sentinel-]

The jailer narrowed his eyes at Renard, apparently torn between wariness and greed.

"Stank of fish and alcohol," he said briefly. "Tough-lookin' and ugly." Which, by this man's standards, was probably saying something. "Armed to the teeth. Battle scars and tattoos."

He pointed his pistol at Renard's bag of coins.
"Can tell you more once I've seen the color of your coins."

[LCP]

Renard produced a gold crown and flicked it between his fingers.

"Were they asking for anyone in particular, monsieur?"

[-Sentinel-]

"Rico the Clubfoot," answered the jailer. "Little con man who's goin' to be hanged tomorrow." Then, smiling: "He was tryin' to bribe me to let him out, but he soiled hisself when those two men came for him."

He extended his left hand, while his right one remained firmly clenched around the handle of the gun.

"The gold now, mate."

[LCP]

Renard flicked the gaoler the coin.

"There's another in it for you if you can tell me these men's names."

[-Sentinel-]

The jailer pocketed the coin.

"How should I know?" he growled. "They din't introduce themselves. They just said they came in the name of cap'n Velasco. Didn't believe 'em. And even if I did, I wouldn't have let them in."

Spoiler

Show

And now, an unmodified Common Knowledge (Tilea) test.

For Renard (Int 37, +10% for Seasoned Traveller): (1d100)[59]
For Gino (Int 31): (1d100)[49]

Edit: None of you has ever heard of this Velasco fellow.

"Now," hissed the jailer, "unless there's more gold in it, go away."

He shook his pistol at Renard for emphasis.

[goblinpaladin]

"Very well. We should also be on our way- we must ask some quiet questions. Svanhildur, look as brooding and taciturn as possible."

Spoiler

Show

Let's ask politely in the scholar's district. Maybe? God, I don't know OOC but I'll bet Dairuin would know IC- he is a merchant, speaks the guild tongue and everything. (1d100)[95] And a fortune point, if need be: (1d100)[1]

Well, okay, that worked.

[-Sentinel-]

Dairuin and Svanhildur

It turned out that the people of the richer districts, most of them merchants, minor nobles and burghers, were difficult to approach past nightfall: they each had at least a few bodyguards, who drew protectively around their charges as soon as they saw Svan's vicious-looking weapons. But simply by telling the Norse woman to stay some distance behind him, Dairuin was able to enter the torch-lit hall of the Lawyers' Guild and gain the trust of the receptionist, an elderly man with gold-rimmed glasses.

"I might know the kind of man you seek," he confided. "His name is Salvator, and he is a forger of incredible skill. We've been trying for many years to get him arrested, but he's as slimy as an eel... We've never found any convincing evidence against him." He smiled smugly, eyeing the Elf's high quality clothes. "Information of this kind is not free, of course. How much can you give me to help me remember his address, signor?"

[Bowerbird]

Svanhildur follows along behind Dairuin, trying her best to look threatening, while in reality she is very bored, and wishing she was back at the Axe. She scans the surrounding area, more out of boredom than alertness.

Spoiler

Show

Perception: (1d100)[57] vs 17

[goblinpaladin]

Dairuin

The elf smiled faintly, producing four gold coins from beneath his shirt. "These are each a mated pair, signor. The husbands want to know the address, but the wives wish for discretion. You understand, of course."

[-Sentinel-]

Dairuin and Svanhildur

The old man's eyes lit up.
"Corner of Temple Street and Market Street," he said, accepting the coins with a broad grin. "His house advertises as an apothecary's shop. It's a pleasure to do business with you, signor."



OOC: @ Bowerbird: The hall of the Lawyers' Guild is a large, brightly lit room with a white marble floor and colorful frescoes on the walls, suggesting considerable wealth. Two professional-looking guardsmen are standing to the left and right, out of earshot but keeping a watchful eye on Svan.

[LCP]

"A pleasure," laughed Renard, tipping his hat to the surly man. Gesturing for Gino to follow him, he headed away, to reconvene with the others.

[goblinpaladin]

Dairuin smiled, pressing his hands together as he inclined his head. "You have been most helpful, signor."

He turned and left, nodding to Svanhildur. "It seems this shall go smoothly enough. I may need you to be... large and well armoured if Signor Salvator does not desire co-operation."

[Bowerbird]

"Well, that I'm good at." Svan says, falling into step behind the Elf.

[-Sentinel-]

Renard and Gino


By the time the jailer closed the door in Renard's face, Wilhelm, Giulio, Arturo and Luca had thoroughly explored the backstreets behind the building.

"No way to get in," reported Giulio, the navigator, a lean young man with the remnants of a middle-class accent. "Only broken crates and barrels, rotting food, excrements and rats. Lots of rats."

"Should we talk here?" hissed Luca. "We're horribly exposed."


[hr]

Dairuin and Svanhildur


Although Salvator's house and workshop, situated in one of the seedier parts of Luccini, attempted to pass for a legitimate business, it fooled no one: the Apothecary sign was so faded as to be almost invisible, and it was obvious that the owner of the place never expected anyone to come for healing herbs. The inside of the house was still well-lit: like most men of his kind, Salvator worked late into the night.

[LCP]

"Monsieur Luca, there is nothing more to talk about," said Renard briskly. "We make our way to the rendezvous with Monsieur 'nyarion."

[goblinpaladin]

Dairuin simply walked up the man's door, and gestured for Svanhildur to knock. He waited patiently, hands held behind him.

Spoiler

Show

I'll be polite and get immediately to the point.

Haggle [54]: (1d100)[78]
Charm [44]: (1d100)[88]

You know, I don't think I've passed a roll in any game the past two weeks.

[-Sentinel-]

Dairuin and Svanhildur

Salvator was a skinny, balding man with curly salt-and-pepper hair, a hook nose and small black eyes. As soon as he opened the door and saw Dairuin and Svan, his face grew sour.

"An Elf and a Norse woman," he said without attempting to conceal his distrust. "How can I be of assistance?"


OOC: We can fast-forward to Renard and the others going back to the Vixen. The ship will be ready to set sail in an hour or two, but the high tide is still six hours away.