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  1. - Top - End - #1
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    The cast thus far:

    Calstenik Zarko:
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    Your boss and landlord, owner of Calstenik's Curios. Cal is a man of many seemingly incongruous contradictions, walking that fine line of the so called 'informal grey market'. He is quick to regale any curious customer with grand tales of life in the Great Library of Zilargo, but, when pressed, seems unable or indeed unwilling to supply any concrete details. Cal is both bony and fat simultaneously, with long skinny arms and an ample paunch that rests comfortably below his flushed face and bulbous features. A great mass of balding white hair completes the roster of his physical features. Of his clothes, little can be said, save that he is a gnome and never wears the same ensemble for more than 12 hours.


    Cob:
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    The goblin cleaner. As taciturn as Cal is boisterous, Cob handles all the manual labor of the building, from cleaning the shop and rooms to dredging the gutter. He talks little and claims to know less. Employment of a Goblin is mandatory for this district: a dozen or more goblin clans 'run' this section of the wards, and make up the majority of the inhabitants. Refusal to admit or employ a goblin results in nothing short of a non-stop barrage of badgering, boycotts, and in some cases violence. Calstenik and Cob seem to get along well, but the exact arrangement they have is not discussed with you.

    Dog:
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    Calstenik's iron defender, powered by the soul of his childhood war mastiff, Dog.


    Setting:
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    Sharn, specifically Ward 5, 'Arcadia'.

    The dingy lower ward shop holds an absolute plethora of goods, from books and clothes, to furniture, jewelry and items from far off places. The shop was built for tall folk and occupies a three level block split into storage, the shop floor, and the apartments that contain bedrooms for you and Calstenik and an office. Cob sleeps under the stairs, and Dog usually rests in the office. The only windows are iron barred air holes on the shop floor, and there are 3 doors: One main door: a huge iron monstrosity left over from the previous tenants, another smaller iron door in the office that leads to the sky-walk above, and a sewer door in the storage level that has been bricked off. The shop does not maintain hours, and is open or closed based on Calstenik's mood.


    It's raining.

    Such an inane statement for a city as wet as Sharn, but indeed the only thing that can describe the near constant downpour drenching every facet of the airborne city: Rainy. Just rainy.

    It is in such a deluge that we find Quinn, our protagonist of sorts, slogging his way home to Calstenik's Curios after a rather inane pick up from a private post box, a full three quarters of an hour's walk from the warm shop. By now the rain has lost its pure element, becoming polluted with the scum and filth of the 3 'higher cities', lending it a foul black inky quality and a smell like rotten eggs and sewage. The tight, claustrophobic streets merely channel the worst of the filth, adding new smells of sweat, smoke and cheap wine flowing out of the taverns and flophouses.

    With some relief, Quinn steps out of the packed street and onto a covered arch-bridge that spans a natural crevice. Here the everburning torches have all been stolen or knocked out. But, for a brief moment the cool wind blows from the Knife river and for once the ever present rain is stanched by the crumbling roof of the bridge.

    ****
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    Sorry. Switching from 3rd to 2nd person narrative. A little clumsy.

    ****
    A beggar clutching a clay jug languishes in a pool of grey half light, barely slurring out the tune of Blood of Martyrs, the old Cyran marching tune. Playing the the song is illegal of course, but the poor bloke appears to inebriated to mind laws. You pass without a second thought.

    As you pass the beggar, however, you hear a faint rustle of fabric. You have lived in the lower section of the city for too long to take such things for granted, and pivot to face the sound, only to have the clay jug collide with your head. It shatters, spilling foul goblin krag across your face! The liquid burns your eyes, but your unimpeded hearing clearly makes out the unmistakable sound of a metal blade clearing a scabbard.

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    You manage to react quickly thanks to the sound of the fabric cloak, so you are not totally blind. You still take a -2 to AC, but keep your dexterity bonus. Your foe still has total cover, but you do not take the -4 to your str and dex tests. It is your turn. This is my reference:
    http://www.d20pfsrd.com/gamemasterin...ns#TOC-Blinded

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    Quinn
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    Hp - 30/30
    Ac - 24


    *His hood pulled up high as he walks, Quinn trudges through the soaking streets of Sharn - sometime literally, where someones garden was in the process of being washed away - and keeps his cloak pulled close to try and fend off the worst of the gusts of wind.*

    *As he steps into the covered bridge, he pauses and shudders a bit, feeling dirty from simply having passed through torrent of increasingly filthy water. He couldn't help but feel sorry for the goblins and other destitutes living in the Cogs and Undertown.

    Feeling the cool wind come off the Knife river, his heart aches for a moment as his mind retreats to the seemingly endless fields of the Talenta plains. He remembered it vividly - the screech of birds high in the clear blue, brilliant sky. The wind as it caused the carver grass to sway steadily, an ocean of plantlife stretching out in either direction. He could see the massive forms of the clans herd animals grazing, and the riders on their clawfeet, patrolling the outskirts, spears always at the ready. He missed the land more than words could say.*

    *It wasn't like him to reminisce, and it was probably why he missed the truth of the strangers ruse.
    As he spins to the sound and the jug smashes him in the face, he curses and continues his spin, using the cloak he'd been holding close in one hand to lash out with unbelievable speed, Quinn attempting to catch the knife in the folds of the cloth and disarm the man.*
    "Gah! Dirty tricks! You'll regret that, rat!"

    Spoiler
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    Attack roll - Disarm
    (1d20+10)[23]

    I'll spend an action point, just because
    (1d6)[5]

    Last edited by keilyn; 2013-11-03 at 12:43 AM.
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    *The cloak snakes out, easily snapping the thief's hand. You hear a very satisfying cry of alarm followed by the ring of cold steel on the stone floor. But the thief is still moving! With unnatural speed the assailant's charge becomes a roll, slipping by you even as you track with your burning eyes. Now Twisting like a cat, the thief's arms snap out, and two darts spin toward you. The first goes wide. The second smacks the center of your bishop's mantle with a solid thack, but you are unharmed.*

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    The thief has rolled past you and done a 180 degree turn before lobbing two darts. You have an attack of opportunity as the thief passes your threatened area. It is now your turn, and if your AOO lands, it gets ret-conned in.
    Last edited by Galvain7; 2013-11-02 at 05:40 PM.

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    Quinn
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    Hp - 30/30
    Ac - 24


    *The knife goes skittering away down the bridge, and while it would have been nice to snatch the thing away from the mugger, Quinn knew there was no way he could manage it with his sight the way it was - he was just as likely to stab himself in the hand reaching for it.*

    *He could hear the man moving, and felt where he would be as much as anything. Letting out a sharp his of breath, Quinn reached out with his senses and a smirk stretched across his face. The mugger had no idea what he was in for.*

    *As time seemed to stretch out, Quinn lashed out with his knee, the blade hidden there springing straight up like some hideous bone growth. His spin took him around, lining his strike up with the attackers roll, the blade flashing in the night.*

    *He could feel the blade connect, and while the dart bounces off harmlessly, he still growls deep in his throat, leaping nimbly down the bridge to where the dagger lay, rubbing his eyes clear as he speaks.*
    "I don't wish you dead, but press the matter and this night will be your last. You picked the wrong mark. Run now."

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    Attack roll - hidden knee blade (x 3 crit)
    (1d20+9)[25]


    Using 1 mote of time to add to damage
    Damage -
    (1d3+2)[3]
    (1d4)[2]
    Last edited by keilyn; 2013-11-02 at 07:11 PM.
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    The thief lets out a low growl, and snarls at you from behind his cowl:

    "Give me the mail bag, thrall, or you'll be the one with regrets."
    Last edited by Galvain7; 2013-11-02 at 07:38 PM.

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    Quinn

    "The bag? I think not. I think this is going to stay right here with me. I suggest you turn tail and run."

    *Pulling his shortsword out with a flick of his wrist, he shrugs.*
    "It's up to you."
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    Your defiance seems to upset the thief.

    "Curse your Stubbornness, thrall!"

    Two glass flasks containing a bright orange liquid appear in the thief's hands, and he lobs them with a savage cry. One misses, sailing over your shoulder to the left. The other crashes on the stones in front of you, shattering instantly.

    In one long, brief moment you catch a whiff of the liquid's scent. A unique, unmistakable odor.

    Alchemist's Fire. Drek.

    Your alcohol soaked clothes combust in a brilliant gout of bright flame.

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    It is your turn. You have taken 3 points of damage from the alchemists fire, but a DC15 Reflex save will extinguish the flames before you take further damage. And Here is my reference:
    http://www.d20pfsrd.com/gamemasterin...tching-on-Fire

    I could not find a rule that says how long it takes to extinguish flames, but I think its a full round action. Please, if you think this is incorrect let me know.
    Last edited by Galvain7; 2013-11-02 at 09:33 PM.

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    Quinn

    "I am no-oh hell!"

    *Leaping straight up into the air, Quinn manages to twist mid flight, his soaked clothes smothering the hot flames that had only begun to burn him, the second flask passing close enough to his face as it flies over him that he could feel the subtle heat from inside the glass.*

    *Landing on his toes and one hand braced underneath him, he snaps his attention up to the attacker, focusing his mind before snapping his right hand forward, sending the mans own dagger spinning through the air towards him.*

    *Quinn watched in amazement as the dagger sailed, the slight fire around them glistening off the blade so slightly that he would have never noticed, had time not slowed. Was that.... was that poison on the blade? Perhaps it was just a trick of the light*

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    Alright!
    Acrobatics check for that fancy maneuver Came out a 26, and it'll use up my move action

    Dagger attack was a 19, so threatened a critical
    Comfirmation roll was a 15

    Add 10 to each of those for 29 and 25, respectively.

    Damage - 2d4+ 1 x 2 iiiiissss.6x2, or 12 points!
    Last edited by keilyn; 2013-11-03 at 12:42 AM.
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    The dagger flies true and straight like a lightning bolt from the fingers of Heaven. As the cold steel flashes in the half light, your sharp halfling eyes do confirm there is indeed poison on the blade, and you smile at the irony of it all.

    The dagger buries itself all the way to the hilt, right in the middle of the sternum.

    Your assailant sinks to his knees with a groan. He laughs, slow and painful.
    "This... this is justice somehow, yes? Gods, I could laugh."

    He falls over with a splash.

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    Quinn

    *His skin a little tender from the scorching, Quinn moves forward to the man and places his hand on him gently.*
    "You need not go so soon into the Keepers domain - that black abyss of Death. Speak your oath of peace and service,and I can spare your life. I bear you no I'll will. Please."

    *The last word seems almost pleading - he truly doesn't wish the man dead, but has sworn an oath never to heal without payment. To break it would bring the wrath of the House down upon him"
    Last edited by keilyn; 2013-11-03 at 12:43 AM.
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    You sail to the side of your would-be thief. Speaking diplomatically, you move to staunch the bleeding. But your words are wasted.

    He is unconscious.

    You gingerly pull the blade from the mans chest and take the necessary steps so that he does not bleed out. Now, looking closely you see your foe is no mere cut purse. He is clad in armor: stout boots with climbing soles, leather pants, knee guards, a leather jerken interlaced with metal plates, a gorget, elbow protectors, and most alarmingly, arm guards riven with small nails designed to painfully snare punches and kicks, and gloves with flat metal balls across the knuckles.

    Holy Host.

    The next step is to stop the poison, or at least identify it. You cautiously sniff the blade. More surprises: the poison is designed to incapacitate a foe, and is very similar to the inky filth used by the much hated drow. On a hunch you check the darts thrown at you, and find more of the same.

    A quick perusal of the man's pockets is productive: ten more darts, these not poisoned, a knuckle duster knife, a few silver coins and some potions. Rope and a grappling hook, a roll of expensive burgler's tools. Matches. Around his neck is an iron key with a copper coin embedded in the ring at the top. And a note tucked into his left boot.

    "The halfling will be carrying a package with him. Take it and bring it to where we met last. Do not fail."
    Last edited by Galvain7; 2013-11-02 at 11:06 PM.

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    Quinn.

    *with a frown at the poison, Quinn shrugs and gets the man stable before searching him. Sweet dragon above- the man was a walking arsenal. Well. Evidently not enough of one.*

    *once he has the note, he frowns and his mind races. The man never intended to kill him. That was always good, but what in the planes could be in the package? Best to get it back as quickly as possible.*

    *his hands moving deftly, he strips the man of his weapons and other posessions, save the note and a single bolt it is wrapped around, Quinns own writing on the opposite side.*
    -Notice.
    Services rendered, having not been dutifully negotiated prior to iminent necessity have been dutifully charged at a rate determined to be sufficient for the task at hand.
    .....
    Better luck next time, friend.


    *laying his hands on the man, he causes the wound to close and smiles, toting his fee over one shoulder, his step brisk. The attacker lay mostly unclothed, robbed of everything of value, and he'd no doubt suffer a severe headache from the poison. A sufficient price indeed. This package was going to cause more trouble before all was said and done, Quinn was sure.*
    Last edited by keilyn; 2013-11-03 at 12:44 AM.
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    You reach the shop without further incident.

    Calstenik greets you at the door, clad in a flamboyant orange and red checker patterned tunic, green pants and a purple flop hat. Behind his gold wire frame glasses, sans lenses, his blue eyes practically bulge with excitement.

    "Did you get the mail? It looks like you got the mail! You have collected the mail! Congratulations! The mail!"

    He tears the bag out of your hands.

    "Ah ah ah ah ah hah! Here it is! My package! Oh yes! Here it is! Quinn, I must say that you did a fine job, yes a fine, job indeed sirrah! But you look awful. I mean really really bad, worse than usual old sport. What happened? Did you get slapped with a wet cat? Why in heavens name would you allow yourself to be abused like that?! To be slapped by a wet cat! Such a massive indignity sir! Is it the money? I bet it is. I know you always complain-" (To date you have never asked for a raise.) "-about the money, but WHAT CAN I DO? I'LL TELL YOU WHAT I CAN DO! I can go to the office. With my package. You should come to! I command it! Company meeting! For everyone except Cob. Huzzah!

    Cob grunts, and hands you a healing potion as your boss bounds through the cluttered aisles toward the office.

    "Tra la la la LA! Hehehehehe."
    Last edited by Galvain7; 2013-11-02 at 11:32 PM.

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    Quinn

    "Company meeting? I'd certainly hope so. With any luck it will explain why someone tried to mug me for whatever you've got there, Boss."

    *With a wink to Cob, he takes the potion with a smile and follows the older man through the aisles, though with less speed and grace. Which shouldn't have been possible. That didn't stop it from being true.*

    *As he steps into the office, he closes the door and stands to one side, using one foot to brace the door against unwanted opening, folding his arms across his chest.*
    "So, why would someone want to steal whatever you have there? They threw rancid grog in my face, tried to poison me. Even managed to set me on fire, however briefly. Been an interesting night."
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    "I am shocked! Shocked Sir! That anyone would even dream of robbing my mail is simply inconceivable! Preposterous! Poppycock! Panderpandemorious!"

    There is an uncomfortable silence, as Cal fidgets and you stare calmly at him.

    "Well, see, its not complete poppycock, baldradash, old sport, its just that, a man such as me makes a few enemies now and then. You see. Not so uncommon. But I can't imagine why anyone would want to steal my useless drivel letters...."


    The staring continues.

    "Alright! Alright! I can see you are upset. Upset for my safety! You really are a loyal old dog of a lesser less folk, you know. I assure you, I was never in any danger tonight, nor was my property in peril of pugnacious pilfering... pal. But, well the truth is there is an item..."

    Tenderly the gnome pulls a long narrow box wrapped in brown paper from the bag. Displaying more caution than he has heretofore, he unwraps the paper revealing a box made of darkwood. It has a lock. Calstenik draws a key from the folds of his robe, and with a sigh unlocks and opens the box. He laughs, and turns the box to face you. It is a wand made of darkwood with a small silver tip.

    "It is a wand." he says, "I will spare your unlearned mind the details, old sport, suffice to say that it is very valuable to me. So valuable in fact I made copies!" He pulls three more identical looking wands from his sleeve. "One decoy goes into the safe, where any would be burglar is sure to look first. I will carry another decoy, and you will carry the last. The genuine article, however, goes to the most trustworthy. Dog! Come dog, here!"

    The old iron defender rises from a pile of discarded papers and moldy dishes and pads over to the master, his iron feet clicking on the stone.

    "There's a good boy! Yes! You're so so good! Yeah!"

    Calstenik inserts the wand directly into the construct's gapping maw (held open in a mock of a flesh-and-blood dog's pant) sliding it deftly into a small grove on the roof of the mouth. The wand clicks in place.

    "Hahaha! Excellent! I will lock up tonight, you go get some rest! We have a busy busy day tomorrow! Ah! One more thing: the decoy wand makes chickens, so be careful. With great power comes great responsibility."

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    Quinn

    *With his arms folded, Quinn waits for the man to finish before accepting the 'dummy' wand.*
    "Chickens? You've.... you're not kidding. Well. When I get hungry, I'll have options. What..."

    *Thinking a moment, Quinn wonders if he even wants to know what the real wand might do, and finally settles on the side of caution - better to know than not to.*
    "What does the real one do?"
    *He points to Dog tilts his head.*

    "I'm not willing to be an accessory to any crimes. I have little doubt that you're on the level, but I have to ask for my own safety. Someone wants this thing, and I'm willing to bet that they'll try again. Unless you want me to look into it further, that is. I'd be willing to. For a nominal fee."
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    Your boss starts playing with the sleeves of his robe.

    "What... what does the real one do? Well, things. Awesome, powerful things. But, ah, nothing bad, you see. The work we are involved in, you are involved in, will really improve the lives of the people of Sharn, forever. As to who wants it, well, probably just thieves. Well motivated, well equipped... thieves. Nothing more. Nothing you need to worry about; I mean, you bested one already right? Right. Tomorrow we will take the Back Stairs to Mortgrave! Research time! Anyway, get some sleep. Nothing to worry about. Nothing. Hah. Hah hah hah. Dog, Come!"

    These last words are delivered as the nimble gnome dances around you and out the door. Before you can mount a protest he is in his room and has closed the door. You hear the door lock engage.

    Spoiler
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    'Back Stairs' refers to an ancient, seldom used staircase that stretches from the lower city all the way to the middle city. There is an actual staircase, but those with money can take a House Orien tram to the top for a fee. The route has been replaced by shorter lifts, of course, but the tram is cheaper.

    You also should roll a sense motive check.

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    Quinn
    *Watching Calstenik dance nimbly past him, Quinn sighs and rubs the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, his eyes closed as he tried to relax and fight off the headache that was well on its way.
    Sure. The Back Stairs. There's no way that could go wrong. It's not like it's an isolated route leading through the darkened tunnels and chambers of the city. *

    *Shaking his head, Quinn pulls a small container of slightly minty smelling ointment from a hidden pocket and carefully smooths the tincture over his tender skin, feeling the powerful mixture sooth the tenderness. He gives a slight shudder and puts the container away before opening the door and walking out to lean against a desk, he looks over to Cob and holds up the key he took from the attacker to show his coworker.*
    "I don't suppose you've got any idea who uses keys like this one, or where I might find out? I have a feeling I'll be needing to know before long."

    *He hands the key over if Cob wants, and runs a hand through his hair with a sigh, plucking a few burnt strands out with a scowl.*
    "I might need to find a fence for some items as well. I suppose any merchant would do, but I'd rather avoid questions. Any ideas?"

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    Sense motive - 9+7 = 16
    Healing Ointment - 1d8 = 5 points

    Knowledge - Local : To see if I know of any fences where I could sell some of the gear taken from the mugger. None of it would fit Quinn, so he may as well make a little coin.
    7+8= 15 total
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    Cob takes the key. He rolls it around in his hands, tapping the tang with a fingernail and weighting it with is wrist before popping the top in his mouth.

    "Cold forge iron. Copper coin from Cyre. Good luck charm. Old. Rub with salt, best result. Yar. Value based on belief. Tell someone you took it, they won't buy. Maybe 10 golds."

    Cob sweeps the floor slowly.

    "Cob doesn't know any fences." He turns to you and winks. "Yar. But Cob... has a cousin, gahel? Could set you up. In cogs though. Have to be careful."

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    'GAH-hell'- expression. Goblinoid colloquialism for 'Do you understand (get) me?' Can be used in a variety of ways.
    Last edited by Galvain7; 2013-11-03 at 07:50 PM.

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    Quinn

    *Giving a low whistle, Quinn shakes his head and smiles.*
    "You will never cease to amaze me. Good luck charm, eh? It didn't seem to work very well for the last owner. OR maybe it did. He is still above ground. Hm."

    *Taking the key back, he slips it around his neck and tucks it beneath his shirt*
    "I get you. I'd be happy to make your cousins acquaintance. I'll be sure to bring you back something nice for the introduction. Where can I find him?"

    *Loading the equipment into a large sack, he smiles and hefts it over a shoulder.*
    "Something shiny, more than likely."
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    "Ugh. Likes smoking pipes. Or shoes. Boph Hand."

    Miffed, you offer Cob your left (boph) hand. He sniffs it, then bites your pinky finger.

    "There. Now you smell like friendly. Tell the thug at the gate Top Cob is sent you to Coz Cob."

    ****

    You wind your way through the twisting alleys and byways burdened with your loot. Of course you are very cautious, but one attack a night seems the limit, even with your luck, and you arrive at one of several entrenches to the Cogs unmolested. There are two gates, one manned by intimidating Warforged and lighted with new ever burning torches. A gnome in a metal booth is checking the papers of a long queue of pale workers in overalls and slouch hats.

    You take the second, darker door made from an expanded rain gutter grate just around the corner. It is lighted lighted by a few brave torches and about a dozen goblinoids with staves and rusty blades stand watch.

    "Boph!" screams the foremost goblin wielding a club, as another levels a pitted spear in your face. You present your hand and he sniffs it, vaguely reminding you of a pig. You keep the comment to yourself.

    "Freind-" says the Sniffer "Of Top Cob." The large hobgoblin leaning next to an equally large axe jerks his head and the two goblins lower their weapons. "Pass," says the sniffer.

    Short as you are you stoop to enter the rain-gutter door, wondering how the near 6 foot axe hobo gets to his post. You traverse a creaking staircase made of rope and scrap metal beams in the dim light case by a stinking oil lamp, before coming to another door, this one a made of warped wood. Just as you move to open it, a pair of luminous green eyes appear out of the shadows to your left. An androgynous feline looking shifter has a crossbow leveled at your face.

    "Allow me." it purrs before tapping the door with a long fingernail. You hear a mechanical click form the other side of the door and it swings open.

    The effect is instant. Suddenly a blast of hot sulfur iron stinking air assaults your nostrils, and the whole dark antechamber is illuminated in the hellish light of the lava vents. Before you is a long metal catwalk, 10 feet wide, suspended from the ancient vaulted ceiling by chains. You are about 150 feet from the floor. On your right, the forges.

    Massive blast furnaces fueled by the earth's own hot blood are straining against the thick metal doors that dam the molten metal inside the cubicles. A long cry stains against the dark and suddenly the doors open, gushing liquid steel into waiting molds. The infernal diorama is illuminated for all to see. Against the fierce light of of the 50 foot furnaces, workers and automatons alike appear as black pin picks, toiling at capstans and trip hammers. Along the wall below the catwalks that separate the foundry floor from the rest of the massive chamber, Cannith guards stand like impassive pike wielding devils, lording over the sweat and stinking industry in the bowels of the earth. The foundry stretches on for thousands of feet. You cannot see the end.

    On your left, the shanty town. Teetering tenements cling to the edges of the chamber and the Cannith wall, forming a long street of sorts. The whole area is cast in shadow by the bright light of the furnaces, but the flickering light of torches line the street at random intervals and from the few windows and narrow doors of the hovels and wine sinks.

    "OY! OY you! Yeah, hairy foot!" a small goblin is further along the catwalk, by a pulley elevator. "Follow me."

  22. - Top - End - #22
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    Quinn

    *Minding the instructions of first Cob, then the guards, the shifter and finally the smaller goblin, Quinn is getting more than a little impatient, but he could understand the need for security. In a place like this, your life wasn't worth much - a bite to eat, a few extra coins, or an insult could all be something worth killing for.*

    *Keeping his head held straight as often as he could, Quinn tried to make it quite clear by his body language that he was most definitely not an easy target. Between the visible blades he wore and the scowl on his face, any vagabonds that might have considered at attempt were evidently dissuaded. Or perhaps it was the luck of the key.*
    "Would be just my luck. I find a lucky key, and when I lose it, all the bad luck comes back."

    *Heading towards the small shanty-town hidden in the shadows of the forges, he adjusts the weight on his shoulders and nods to the young goblin.*
    "Headed for Cuz Cob. Which way?"
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  23. - Top - End - #23
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    "Eh he. What's it worth to ya?"

    You give him your fiercest warlord stare.

    "A'ight a'ight, sorry ah ask'd. Take the lift down, turn left, look for the sign with the iron bars. Brick building, metal door, two brazzers out front. Can't miss it."

    He has the audacity still to ask for a tip on the ride down. "Jus' a few coppers for my supper. Gotta make an honest living don't ya know."

    You follow the lift man's instructions, and in short order arrive at the store. The hobgoblin thug at the door makes you repeat the sniff ritual, but mumbles an apology and something about Cobb afterwords. The inside of the store has a vague tobacco smell. The floor is covered in discarded rugs and carpets, with a few cursory cabinets and shelves crammed with junk. Nice junk, but still junk. A moderately well dressed goblin is lounging on a stained purple pillow smoking a long pipe. In the corner another goblin with no eyes is playing a pair of worn bongos.

    "Ah! Welcome, welcome! A new face, and from the surface no less. You can call me Coz, surface friend. I hope you didn't have to much trouble getting here. Would you like a smoke? What brings you to Coz today?"

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    Quinn

    *Glaring at the lift goblin a moment longer, he steps closer to the small goblin, his stare fierce as he gets uncomfortably close to the thing. He could smell the rancid odor of it, even over the fires below, and his voice is quiet and harsh.*
    "You think you deserve a tip? The audacity to ask such a thing. You've quite the set on you."

    *He growls low in his throat before taking a step back and over to the lift, a wry grin on his face.*
    "Sure. Why not? Remember me next time and there'll be more. So long as you forget me until I come back."

    *Pointing to the goblin, he motions for it to check a pocket - where he'd deftly dropped a silver coin without his target being the wiser.*

    *As he follows the directions, he keeps close mental note of his location in case he needs to make a quick getaway, but so far so good. Coz Cob seems amiable enough, but there were always proprieties to be observed.*
    "If you're offering as a host, it would be rude of me to turn down such a generous offer. It's been a while since I've indulged myself such, so I hope you're forgiving of a few coughs. Top Cob said you enjoyed a smoke."

    *Waiting for his host to motion for him to sit, he does so gracefully and accepts the smoke without question, taking a few slow puffs and relaxing, waiting for his host to mention business before proceeding.*
    "I was told you're interested in all manner of things. I have some things here that I think you might offer a few coins for, and if you're interested, I'd like to continue bringing any things I happen to find around this way. It's always nice to have dependable friends you can call on when you have things you don't need, or perhaps when there are things you have to have found, don't you agree?"
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  25. - Top - End - #25
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    "Please sir- I meant nothing by it I just--" the goblin checks his pocket. "I- oh! Oh! Bless you sir, bless you righteous one. May your enemies be strong enough to hone your skill, but never strong enough to overcome it!"

    ****

    Coz Cob seems pleased by your tact and etiquette.
    "Ah! Yes! We live in a cruel and undependable city, my friend, and it is only through the strong bonds of friendship that we can hope to overcome our... tribulations. I would be happy to assist such a sterling young man as yourself, and a friend of my cousin no less. But alas, running a business and taking care of my many relatives is so very taxing on my time. Perhaps we could come to an arrangement? A few small errands on the surface for me, a few modest coins in your pocket for you, and more besides for the treasures you find on your adventures...."

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    Quinn

    "Well, naturally, good sir. I'd never expect the time of a man such as yourself to be free. Tell me, what can I do to lend you assistance?"

    *Inhaling slowly, he feels the hot smoke slide down his throat and catch deep in his chest, causing him to cough heavily for a minute. Quinn raises a hand to cover his mouth and chuckles.*
    "I can see why Top Cob enjoys this so much. I'll have to bring him some, so long as it is quite acceptable to you."
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  27. - Top - End - #27
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    "Ah yes! Please, take some from my stock to Top Cob, with my compliments. As to errands, I suppose I should consult my assistant for the most pertinent first. For the time being, please, accept this token."

    Coz draws a silver coin from his pocket, and a stout looking pair of nutcrackers from under the cushion. He deftly cuts the coin in half, placing one piece in his mouth, motioning you do the same with the other half. You swap the now sticky coin halves. Coz has your scent, and you his. The distinction between the faint smells is only distinguishable to goblins.

    "Now, to business, my friend. I happen to know that those greedy, ah, shopkeepers on the surface will give you only 10% market value on found items. But! To a friend, I would give 13%!"

    Spoiler
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    So, rather than type out a very long exchange haggle, we will do some opposed rolls, 'market value' here meaning rule book prices. Since a few items aren't necessarily in the books, I will ball park values on my own.

    Roll Appraise, sense motive, bluff and (since you are the customer) intimidate or diplomacy, but not both. You have a certain advantage, because as the seller you can threaten to go somewhere else. Coz will make similar rolls, slightly different skills, because he is the buyer. I don't know if there are any appropriate rules, I am kinda lazy right now, and this method gives you a chance to use your skills and work the magic dice more than once. Sound good?

  28. - Top - End - #28
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    Quinn

    "Such generosity! At least let me show you what I've found. It just so happens that quite a bit of this gear would fit one of your hobgoblin gaurds quite nicely. I do understand the need for price adjustment, however - you have a very prosperous business to tend to, after all."

    *Taking the coin half, he makes it disappear deftly into the folds of his clothes before laying the items in the sack out.*
    "I have no doubt Top Cob will be most appreciative, thank you, Coz."

    OOC:
    Spoiler
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    Alright. Standard selling prices on items would be 60% of their actual cost, and for fencing things, that would mean you'd get 10% less, but with Coz Cob, he'd get 53% to start. A better deal for sure, but understandably low. Coz Cob is dealing with a relative stranger and does have overhead.

    Let's do those rolls though! Just as a rough ballpark, say each successful check raises or lowers the price by 3% - to a max of 60% for Quinn. It still favors the merchant, since he's going to have max rank, as well as skill focus in the skills. That seems fair to me.

    Appraise -
    (1d20+8)[13]

    Sense Motive -
    (1d20+7)[21]

    Bluff -
    (1d20+11)[19]

    Diplomacy -
    (1d20+11)[17]

    Maybe as time goes on and we do more business together, the standard rate will increase, or something, but that's something we can work out in time.
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  29. - Top - End - #29
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    After much dithering and haggling you come to an agreeable percentage, only to haggle and dither again over a fair appraisal. Goblin Coz tries to low-ball you at first, but not insultingly so, and the entire exchange remains heated but pleasant.

    Goblin Cob proves to be better at appraising than lying tonight, easily using the value of the items as leverage in negotiations. You, however, see through most of the small lies and best of all, give the goblin an inflated idea of you skills and connections. In the end however, the little green businessman's charm wins the day. In addition to the money, you get a new pair of shoes and a generous helping of pipe tobacco for Top Cob.


    "A bargain and fairly struck! 450 gold currency for takes the lot." You shake hands. " To a long and mutually beneficial relationship. Now, how would you like your payment: coin, Kundarak notes or a combination of both?"

    Spoiler
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    Coz Cob's first two rolls were pretty dismal for him, but he got a natural 20 on his overall diplomacy, and the final percentage was 56%, with a slight reduction because of his better appraisal. I will write up Coz better so there is a definite standard. (Tonight I just rolled.)
    Last edited by Galvain7; 2013-11-04 at 12:32 AM.

  30. - Top - End - #30
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    Quinn

    *After the negotiations, appraisal, dithering and playful dickering, they settle on a price and Quinn shrugs.*
    "Coin works just fine, my new friend. I know Kundarak script has just as much staying power, but after nearly being immolated tonight, I hate the thought of well-earned coin going up in flames."

    *Tucking the bag of pipe tobacco and shoes away into his pack, he chuckles.*
    "I wish Top Cob would have warned me beforehand of your prowess at negotiations. I'd have come better rested for sure! Hahaha."

    *Carefully cleaning the pipe he'd been graciously offered, he sets it to the side and holds up a hand for Coz Cob to wait a moment as he retrieves the chicken wand from up his sleeve - slowly."
    "Tell me, I've seen another wand like this in a wealthy nobles possession. I managed to swipe this one, thinking it was the real one, but alas, I believe it was a decoy - it summons chickens. While useful, for certain, I wonder if you know anything of the original, or someone who would be willing to pay handsomely for it? I'm likely grasping at straws - I'll not likely make an appearance so high in the towers any time soon."

    Spoiler
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    So, here's the stuff I kept from the mugger / the new items , I'll have it on my sheet
    Fresh boots
    Pouch of pipe tobacco
    Dagger
    Incapacitating poison -
    2 darts
    9 normal darts
    Knucklee duster knife
    expensive burglars tools
    Iron key with copper coin embedded in the ring at the top


    Last edited by keilyn; 2013-11-04 at 12:43 AM.
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