Shadow in the Sky, Chapt 1 of TRM's Second Darkness [IC]

Early morning, 14th day of Arodus, AR 4708 (OOC : Arodus is more or less equivalent to our August)

As the morning sun rises above the mountains surrounding Riddleport, its inhabitants start to go about on their business. A few Gendarmes patrol the streets, merchants set up stalls, the day crew relieves the night crew at the Gas Forges, fishermen have already left their wharfs and most of the quickwives are still sleeping. The last few days have been rainy, transforming most of the city streets into a muddy quagmire. Today is different however. The only things you can see in the sky are the sun, the ever present sea gulls and the Blot, a dark and thick cloud which is still hovering over the city, the same way it has been for about a month. Some of you see this shiny sun as a sign of good luck for the evening to come. Desna's blessing could indeed be needed tonight as today is the day the Gold Goblin presents the Cheat the Devil and take his Gold gambling tournament.

[SBlock=Chan Ti]You've arrived in Riddleport a few weeks ago, found yourself a place to live and started gathering some information about this new city you're in. You've heard all sort of rumors about different criminal groups, the Blot, the upcoming gambling tournament and the plague that devastated Korvosa a few months ago. You haven't hear anything from members of our order yet but you know they will find you went they need to. The Di-Chan always know. Lately, you haven't heard much new information. Maybe the falling rains slowed down the rumor mill or maybe you just need to change the area in which you operate. Your thoughts drift to the Gold Goblin and the tournament taking place there. Such an establishment would be a good place to gather information from the various travelers that come to the city. Maybe you can convince the owner of the gambling hall to hire you as a guard or something else.[/Sblock]

[Sblock=Kronk]Squirrels, there's just too many squirrels in Lubbertown, always sneaking up on you. They like all the trees and gardens, you figure. Lubbertown, a poor shanty town of tents and shacks north of Riddleport proper, is usually where people end up when they first arrive in the city by way of land. You, on the other hand, ended up here after you got kicked out of your former lodging by your landlord's capps. You figured you must have forgotten to pay the rent or got into a dispute with them, you can't quite remember. Here, you've made yourself a comfortable little kip under a sturdy lean-to and, after breaking a few noses, people usually leave you alone. It would be fine if it weren't of all the rain and the squirrels. Maybe you should go to that place you keep hearing about : the Gold Goblin. So many people are talking about it, maybe they'll need someone to keep out the undesirables such popularity is sure to bring. One thing's for sure : you can't stand those thrice-cursed rodents anymore. Just this morning, you wake up and one of the little bugger is but 3 feet away, staring at you with its dark eyes. But before you can find something to throw at it, a large shadow of a man scares it away. Looking up, you see that the man is in fact an half-orc who wears leather and animal bones. But most importantly, his face is pretty familiar, which is unusual for you. He looks at you with a mix of recognition and surprise. The name Rorger comes to your mind … or was it Rorgar ?[/Sblock]

[Sblock=Rorgar]The druid elders of the ancient and primal order of the Clawed Watchers have tasked you with finding out information about what's causing this ominous blot hovering over Riddleport. They have warned you that their divinations have only revealed vague portents and, thus, such information might not be evident at first. Be patient, establish yourself and observe was their instructions. As much as you hate returning to the wretched city, you know you're probably the best suited for such a mission. They have also sent with you a weird man that has recently come to the grove and earned the trust of the druids. If what he says is true, he's a traveler from another world, where he was an accomplished wizard and a fighter of demons. You don't quite know what to make of your new companion. While he seems strong and tough, his customs are alien, he speaks of unknown places and carries no weapon. After a miserable week of travel under pouring rain, you've finally arrived at the outskirts of Riddleport late last night. You've camped out the night in Lubbertown, a poor shanty town of tents and shacks north of Riddleport proper, and you plan to head into the city to begin your search today. After just a few strides toward your goal, you notice a dwarf resting under a simple lean-to. Somehow he seems familiar to you. As you approach his humble habitation, you recognize him. He has changed much over the years and he wears a weird collar of dead squirrels around his neck but there can be no doubt, it's a Kronk. He was one of the Gas Forges guard and he amazingly took pity on some of you orphans on the streets. He gave you errands to run in exchange for some of his food. You had heard he was involved in some accident and left town long ago. Apparently, he came back. He watches you with a mix of confusion and recognition.[/Sblock]

[Sblock=Tolly]You arrived with high hope in Riddleport about 2 weeks ago. The Cyphergate was even more impressive then you had imagined. You wonder what secret skills did the ancients had to make such ambitious and lasting structure. Other then this ancient construction, however, the look of Riddleport really pales when compared to the gothic architecture of your native Korvosa. You still have come to like the much more loose and lawless atmosphere of the pirate port. You had planned to visit the notorious Cypherlodge but the cyphermages ask for a hefty 20 gold coin per day for food, lodging and access to their library and this has proven too much for your small purse. You instead had to settle with a renting a modest room in one of the many tenements of the Leeward district. Your landlord, an old widow, offers you room and board for only 3 silver coins per week. This situation is less then ideal however as you have been awaken countless times in the middle of the night by sounds of brawls, disputes and drunken nonsense. Perhaps it's time to find some income source and live in better conditions.[/Sblock]

[Sblock=Tosh]Unlike most others, the shining sun doesn't put you in a very good mood. Even with your trusty goggles, it makes everything shine way too brightly for your own taste. No matter, you can wait out the day in your hideout, an hulk of a small ship that is now rotting in the salt marshes. Once the sun comes down, there's going to be plenty of opportunities to acquire another kind of shiny things.[/Sblock]

[Sblock=Voadam]Again, you were sent across the worlds and, again, you lost your magic. This time you ended up in the midst of a druidic circle. They call themselves the Clawed Watchers and endeavor to protect their world, apparently named Goralion, from outside influence. This seems to include both demons and angels. You were able to convince at least some of them that you aren't some sort of madmen or an outsider from the planes but rather a traveler from another world, similar to this one. You've stayed with them for a while, recuperating from your ordeal and getting a feel for this new world. You learned about their concern over some weird shadow, called the Blot by the locals, that is apparently hovering above a nearby city named Riddleport. Feeling that this could be the work of the forces of Chaos, you have convinced the druid elders to allow you to accompany their agent sent to investigate this Riddleport. The agent is named Rorgar, an half-orc who apparently lived in the city during his youth. After a miserable week of travel under pouring rain, you two have finally arrived at the outskirts of Riddleport late last night. You've camped out the night in a place Rorgar called Lubbertown, a poor shanty town of tents and shacks north of Riddleport proper, and you plan to head into the city to begin your search today. After just a few strides toward your goal, Rorgar notices a ugly looking dwarf resting under a simple lean-to by the side of the road. Silently, your half-orc companion approaches this dwarf and it seems to you that they know each other.[/Sblock]
OOC : This is just a chance to establish your character and take care of any business you want before the tournament. Tell me if I took too much liberties with your characters. Once you are all ready, I'll forward the action to the evening and thus the tournament.

Kronk's fingers tighten around the haft of his waraxe while his eyes narrow in concentration. He slides to his feet, back to the tree, obviously ready to strike, but not yet committed to violence. Something holds him back.

"I know you?" the dwarf growls. "You haven't been sent have you? I know they're watching me, and...." His voice trails off. "We have met. Roger, right?"

"Kronk, is this you? I haven't seen you you... for a long time. Thanks your help in the old days. And it is Rorgar." Rorgar replies to the confused dwarf. He seems to be overly friendly, as being in sime kind of debt to the odd dwarf.
"Oh, this is a fellow traveller of mine named..." Rorgar is a bit hesitant to give his fellow traveller's name away so easily.

As he has done every morning for as far back as he can remember, Ti rises with the sun. An hour later after performing his morning practice routines, he gives some more thought about his plans for the Golden Goblin tournament. According to his information, the goblin will be taking on extra staff for the duration of the tournament and Ti has already decided that he has nothing to loose and much to gain in applying for a position.

Even though it is unlikely that anything will be happening for several hours, Ti heads over there; after all Master Lee was always going on about early birds catching worms. Although the sun is out, it has not yet dried the streets and it takes all of Ti's skills to get to the Goblin without getting too muddy or even worse, splashed by a passing cart.

The small slate grey dragon waddled cautiously through the knee-deep brine. Rising up on either side, like the rotting bones of some long dead leviathan, were the sun-bleached ribs of what once had been a ship. Balancing along the ship's submerged keel, the odd little creature held a mechanical crossbow safely above its saurian head. Reaching what was once the hulk's aft, the small dragon paused to sling the weapon over its shoulder and to begin tugging on an old line tied to the ship's rudder. As it did so, a rusted chain rose out of the water; a line of empty hooks breaking the surface one by one below it. The little creature's maw broke apart in a many-toothed crocodile's smile at the sight of a juvenile swamp barracuda hanging from the chain's last hook. Whirling the chain around quickly in a wide arc, the small slate grey dragon smacked the fish repeatedly into the hulk's rudder; ensuring that is was indeed well dead before risking its claws on unhooking the deceptively vicious creature. After a few minutes of deft work the barracuda's head and guts were spread along the array of submerged hooks while its tastier bits were slung between the dragon's small stunted wings.

After crossing a shallow sandbar and skirting pools filled with concealed spikes, the odd little creature hopped up onto the largely intact prow of an ancient ship jutting out of the silt at an odd angle. Scampering up to the nearly vertical bowsprit the small slate grey dragon hopped down to land atop of the ancient vessel's wooden figurehead; that of a serenely smiling winged angel covered in peeling paint. Wrapping its tail around the angel's neck for added purchase, the creature slowly turned its saurian head to survey the nearby landscape. All around it stretched a labyrinthine wasteland formed of shallow waterways and muddy embankments broken up only by heaps of discarded rubbish, flotsam and rotting hulks of wrecked ships. It was the Boneyard; Riddleport's dumping ground and the small dragon's home.

Satisfied that all was as it should be, the creature turned to face a wooden plaque hanging next to the figurehead. Across its surface, stenciled in peeling paint was the former vessel's long forgotten name: The Seraphim. Pausing to carefully disarm a fine tripwire cleverly strung across the sign, the little dragon hefted the old wooden plaque to reveal a jagged hole in the prow's hull. Ducking inside, the creature turned to regard the one small blot of darkness in the otherwise bright morning sky. Lowering the plaque back in place, the dragon carefully reset the tripwire before pulling the smoke-glass goggles off of its saurian face; revealing a pair of glowing red eyes bleary with exhaustion. Stretching its maw wide to yawn, the little beast set its crossbow down, dumped the gutted barracuda into a nearby bucket and padded across the arcing interior hull to a row of makeshift shelves. There the creature examined a handful of salvaged bottles filled with oddly colored mixtures and reagents undergoing time-dependent alchemical processes. Nodding approvingly at their apparent progress, the dragon climbed up to a fishing net strung across the topmost ribs of the interior. It had been a long night for the dragon in the nearby city's shadowed alleyways and the creature was tired.

As it settled in, the small slate colored dragon thought back to its earlier work, that of scouting out an old disused coal-chute which led into a pit beneath the Gold Goblin's pantry; one much too small to be of concern to large humanoids, but adequate to allow passage to the dragon's much smaller frame. From there it would be a simple task for the creature to climb up into the pantry, to pass through the kitchens unoticed and to enter the common room discreetly. The dragon's wide maw split merrily into a wide crocodile's smile at the thought of its planned assault upon the gambling hall.

Tolly rose late, as usual, once again cursing his lack of sleep. He pulled his purse from beneath his pillow and once again counted its meagre contents. A few gold sails and a handful of pinch. Although he had found that the less wealth a man carried, the less he could be robbed of, this wasn't going to get him very far in Riddleport. Fleabitten flophouses were fine for a bit, but Tolly hadn't finished with this city yet.

Over breakfast he perused the battered pages of his 'arcane notebook', trying once more to interpret a few more of the symbols and strange phrases. He was getting somewhere at last, he was sure of it, but a working casting still eluded him. Sitting back from the book for a moment he looked around the common room, and his eyes lit on a poster for the Golden Goblin. "Cheat the Devil and Win His Gold!" the poster announced.

It seemed worth a try. With very little to lose anyway, what harm could a spot of reckless gambling do. Besides, Tolly fancied that he'd suit the role of croupier. Perhaps it was time to pick up some tips.

Later, after a shave and a haircut, a spruced-up Tolneus Garnus stood in the queue for the Golden Goblin. His purse and his precious spellbook were tucked well out of sight and reach. Although the Blot overhead compelled his attention, even after two weeks, Tolly avoided looking at it. No use gawping like a tourist. Instead he spent the time sizing up the other members of the queue, trying to seperate them into rubes and players. Who would be an easy victory at the gambling tables? Who were the ones to avoid going up against?

"I hope the Devil's ready to lose tonight," he says with a broad grin to the people nearby.

@Ghostcat
Chan Ti arrives at the Gold Goblin early and find the place closed. This grand establishment has seen better days. A wide veranda runs along the front between two short wings of the building. A massive, brass half-dome tops the building, but it is now tarnished and marred by the impact of years of weathering and bears a patina of greenish brown. The only ones outside the gambling hall are a young beggar making his trade while resting on a sidewall and a shiny golden statue of a grinning goblin.
[Sblock=Appraise DC 12]The statue isn't made of actual gold, it's just shiny brass.[/Sblock]On a painted canvas hanged above the entrance, you can see piles of gold, playing cards, red men with pitchforks, fires and other mocked hellish imagery. You can also see written on the canvas :


The two main doors of the establishment are made of sturdy darkwood. Carved in them are symbols of good luck (butterflies, four-leaf clovers, crossed fingers and the like). Through the blurry windows, Chan can see that a few burly men and a dwarf are moving tables and nailing painted boards on the walls.

OOC : I'm going to assume Tolly comes to the goblin later then Chan since Dr. Simon said that he waked up late.

The Rolling Man said:

...and a shiny golden statue of a grinning goblin.

Click to expand...

Walking Dad said:

"Kronk, is this you? I haven't seen you you... for a long time. Thanks your help in the old days. And it is Rorgar." Rorgar replies to the confused dwarf. He seems to be overly friendly, as being in sime kind of debt to the odd dwarf.
"Oh, this is a fellow traveller of mine named..." Rorgar is a bit hesitant to give his fellow traveller's name away so easily.

Click to expand...

"Voadam. Greetings and well met Kronk. I am called the Green Wizard of Althora." Unarmed save for a wand tucked into a green sash the bearded big bear of a man in black robes looks confident despite his lack of armament. His eyes move to the Blot, the dark shadow looming over the city. He peers intently, taking in the details. "I'm new to Riddleport but by Niddhog's black scales that's an ominous pool of darkness."

Chan Ti Monk 1

[sblock="Goblin Appraise check"] 1d20=17[/sblock]
Arriving at the Golden Goblin, Ti finds it run down and seedy not at all what he expected.

Hoping that he may still be able to get a job, Ti surreptitiously takes 4 CP and 2 SP from one of his pockets. Walking over to the beggar he drops a couple of copper pieces into his bowl, giving the beggar a quick flash of silver. "I am trying to find out some information about yonder gambling hall and was wondering if you could help me."

What Ti is trying to find out is whether or not the dwarf is the owner. If not, who is he? Also, if the dwarf is not the owner: who is; what's his name; what does he look like; what time does he usually arrive. He will also try to find out if the Goblin is hiring extra staff for the tournament, although he realises this is a bit of a long shot.


OOC:
Diplomacy +5, taking 10 if possible.