Pathfinder – Shadow in the Sky: the Harrowed

[Ambrus]

[imager]http://img269.imageshack.us/img269/1740/gamblingchips.jpg[/imager]Lixy smiles cordially as she launches into her croupier's spiel. "Devils don't care for mortal coins. You'll have to trade em in for the currency o' the realm; the pickings o' their victims." The young Varisian girl picks up a trio of wooden discs painted in colorful hues and holds them up for Girri to inspect. "Hearts for copper, teeth for silver and eyes for gold." The girl chuckles as she puts her tokens back into her cash box. "That's old Saul's tourney story anyways. You can trade up at the cash counter to the left."

[imagel]http://img15.imageshack.us/img15/7830/ghoulette.jpg[/imagel]Shaken and with her head spinning from the cloying smoke, Girri can't seem to help stealing glimpses of the dessicated head sitting atop the "Ghoulette" wheel as Lixy speaks. After having uttered its missive, Dungo's features have frozen in a mocking death rictus. The Varisian woman can't seem to shake a sense of deja vu as she furtively studies the dark leathery flesh of the severed head. But how can she possibly see something familiar in its mummified visage? Dungo certainly doesn't resemble anyone she's ever met before... Seeing her apparent fascination with her companion, Girri picks Dungo off the Ghoulette wheel and holds him up so as to give Girri a better look at her friend. With an impish wink at Girri, Lixy turns Dungo around and purses her lips at him playfully. "Whada ya say Dungi?" The head's features animate briefly to offer an answer: "Good thing I'm a deader; yer breath'd lay a cockatrice flat out." The croupier simply smiles as she places the head back unto the Ghoulette wheel.

[imager]http://img38.imageshack.us/img38/583/thebetrayal.jpg[/imager]Suddenly, in an epiphany, recognition flashes across Girri's consciousness. A beautiful woman pursing her lips to a severed head held in an outstretched hand; in her other hand, a handful of... gambling chips? Lixy, with Dungo's aid, has inadvertently embodied the Betrayal; a Harrow card Girri knows all too well. This card had been appearing ever more frequently in her recent Harrowings...

[imagel]http://img33.imageshack.us/img33/9396/thecrows.jpg[/imagel][imager]http://img44.imageshack.us/img44/1858/thecricket.jpg[/imager]Reeling from the dawning revelation, Girri turns away from the Ghoulette table to clear her head. Confronting her is the sight of the seated dwarves who've just completed a hand of their towers game. Three of the bearded men, sporting their elaborate gas forges breathing apparatuses around their necks are eagerly counting their winnings. A fourth removes his filthy leather apron to reveal a surprisingly white shirt before picking up the discarded Harrow cards to deftly reshuffle them into the deck. In short order Girri recognizes the trio of masked dwarves as the living incarnation of the Crows card. The shuffling dealer on the other hand embodies the spirit of the Cricket; the card which initially led her to seek out the tourney in the first place.

[imagel]http://img23.imageshack.us/img23/2055/thefiend.jpg[/imagel][imager]http://img23.imageshack.us/img23/707/thepublican.jpg[/imager]Quickly the Harrower turns in place as the symbolism of other cards leap out at her almost too quickly to be assimilated. The malicious imp sneering at her from within his cage is none other than the Fiend. The eye patch sporting barkeep pouring drinks in the taproom embodies the Publican.

[imager]http://img22.imageshack.us/img22/6353/thecarnival.jpg[/imager]Ever more quickly, other cards come forth as if clambering for Girri's attention. Altogether, the crowd of gamblers, croupiers, guards and wenches seem to dance before her eyes and so she comes to recognize the entire scene as a manifestation of the endless Carnival. It's as if the entire Harrow deck is manifesting itself all around her, the interplay of symbolism hinting to a great secret that is tantalizingly close yet just out of Girri's grasp.

And then, as suddenly as it has come, the harrowing moment of clarity passes. The Varisian diviner has only experienced a handful such moments during her life, yet none so overwhelming. Is it a rare glimpse of the intricate workings of fate granted by the grace of Pharasma or a manifestation of the power of the Harrow itself? Does it matter? That Girri is meant to be here is abundantly clear, but for what purpose? The befuddled Harrower is catching her breath and contemplating this mystery when she hears Lixy clearing her throat behind her. "Uhm... Are you alright... miss?..."

 

[CanadienneBacon]

Girri's head swims and her eyes water. Putting out a hand to steady herself, Girri leans on Lixy's table and waits for the visions to pass and for her lungs to once again breathe. Wiping sweat from her forehead with the palm of her hand, Girri steadies herself with focused thought. "The cricket? A journey?" Girri's eyes flash to the shuffling dealer then back down to her own feet. With a frown caressing her brow, Girri muses, "But were the card misaligned? Will the journey end badly?" Girri turns her head a quarter turn to eye the barkeep. "The publican? But, again, a true match or misaligned?" Sighing, Girri wipes the last of the sweat beading on her forehead. "Who to trust, who to trust?" The trio of dwarves gambling with a Deck again catch her attention. Remembering The Crow, Girri shakes her head no. "Not them, no love, not them at all. Bad sorts."

Sure that Lixy overhead at least some of her muttered thoughts, Girri flushes, and recovered now, pushes away from the gambling table with a feeble smile. "I'll just go and get me some chips then, thanks." Not waiting for Lixy's reply, Girri steps to the exhange booth and puts down a gold coin. "Can I get ten teeth fer this?"

 

[Ambrus]

Stepping into the small foyer, Girri walks up to the counter blocked by a row of sturdy floor-to-ceiling iron bars behind which two seated women are busily tallying coins and passing out chips. Just behind them stands a broad-shouldered Ulfen man with close cropped blond hair sporting chain armor; he watches the goings-on attentively. The left hand cashier is currently busy making change for another would-be gambler.

Having plunked down her gold sail on the counter the unoccupied cashier takes the coin, gives it a perfunctory bite, drops it into a slot on the counter and begins lining up silver painted chips in front of Girri. "1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 teeth." The harried cashier barely looks at Girri as the Varisian woman scoops up her gambling chips and walks away.

Stepping back into the main room, Girri sees that the succubi hostesses near the front are still hard at work since another twenty-odd gamblers have joined the crowd amidst the game tables; and more are still crowding the entrance. The Gold Goblin seems to have drawn a good number of gamblers away from the newer and grander gambling halls up in the Free Coin district with this tournament. It remains to be seen whether or not it'll mark the beginning of a new and profitable era for the venerable Goblin though.

 

[CanadienneBacon]

Girri eyes the Ulfen man with appreciation for half a moment before shifting her attention to the woman cashier who took and bit her gold sail. Sweeping her ten "silver" teeth tokens into her palm, Girri tucks the tokens into the inside sewn pocket on a scarf that criss-crosses her chest then heads back to Lixy's table. "How much fer a turn, Lix?"

Unable to keep her eyes from Dungo, Girri shivers as the Harrowing images once again filter through her subconscious.

 

[Ambrus]

The Ghoulette croupier seems a little more unnerved to see the Harrowed woman returning to her table than she does about the presence of the dessicated head resting next to her. She smiles nervously as she motions to the wheel beneath Dungo. "Up to you. You place your bets on any number of the eleven slots: appearance, bloodline, demeanor, cleanliness, skill, clothes, body, race, courage, profession or brains. If after it's spun Dungo faces your slot he'll offer up an appropriate insult and you'll get your bet back in the next highest order of chips; teeth for hearts, eyes for teeth and ten eyes to every eye you put down. You can't put any bets down on the twelfth slot: Something Nice. If Dungo ends up facing that one then he clams up and everyone at the table gets their bet back in the next lowest order of chips rounded down: hearts for teeth, teeth for eyes and one heart to every ten you put down. We can't play until old Saul comes out and says his bit to start the tournament though. That should be soon now though." Lixy ends with an apologetic shrug.

 

[CanadienneBacon]

Girri follows what Lixy says with uncharacteristic attentiveness, nodding her head and absentmindly fingering a lone "tooth" at the same time. "Right." When Lixy finishes explaining the game, Girri ponders the wheel, deciding her selection. Suddenly impatient to start playing a game a few moments earlier she'd disdained, Girri begins to cast glances 'round the room--looking for Old Saul. "Old Saul...Old Saul? Old Saul. Old Soul. Why does that name ring me bell, love?" Girri purrs quietly to herself under her breath as she waits.

 

[Ambrus]

Mulling over the name Girri surmises that Lixi is referring to Saul Vancaskerkin. Rumor has it that he used to be a major player in the city's illicit power structure, but then tumbled down to the bottom somehow. Now seen as a small time operator, his recent acquisition and refurbishing of the Gold Goblin gambling hall is generally held to be a last-ditch bid to reclaim some measure of his former glory. OOC: Knowledge (local) 10

As the windows begin darkening with twilight, the last of the tournament's participants make their way through the hall's entryway, hand over the entry fee to the beautiful hostesses and sign the proffered soul contracts; bringing the total number of patrons in the hall to well over a hundred. The two succubi at the entryway pull the large wooden doors closed with a resounding boom that draws most everyone's attention. The rattling of the doors' locks can be heard throughout the hall as the crowd begins to quiet down. The demonesses then pick up the metal coffers into which they'd deposited the entry fees and, amidst whistles and catcalls from the crowd, sashay their way over to the raised dais. With a hand from the large shaven-headed guards stationed there, the succubi climb up and begin emptying the contents of their boxes into the overlarge chest. That done, the two guards slam the chest closed and begin securing it with a bevy of heavy gilded chains and padlocks. Throughout the hall all of the would-be winners' thoughts are firmly focused on the contents of that chest.

[imagel]http://img141.imageshack.us/img141/2059/saulvancaskerkin.jpg[/imagel]Then, on cue, more bare-chested male members of the staff emerge from the door to the kitchen carrying torches and walk in procession towards the dais. With all eyes now upon them, they set the various pitchfork-mounted straw 'heads' on fire. Some of the gathered crowd goes silent in expectation while others laugh, applaud or cheer the theatrics. A short man then climbs to the central podium and stands before the chain-shrouded chest with a demoness on each arm. He wears a formal suit, and his thinning black hair is slicked back. His left arm ends in a stump just above the wrist, and affixed to it is a bronze cap from which protrudes an oddly shaped key. Girri, standing relatively close by at the Ghoulette table, is momentarily mesmerized by the the man's odd appendage. A hand that's a key; the female harrower is struck by Saul Vancaskerkin's uncanny similarity to the Locksmith. Might he hold the keys she needs to unlock her destiny as suggested by the Harrow? The man bows before the crowd and clears his throat before speaking.[imager]http://img413.imageshack.us/img413/7103/thelocksmith.jpg[/imager]

“Welcome, one and all, to the Gold Goblin Gambling Hall and your chance to cheat the Devil and win back not only your soul but all of his gold as well.” He says this last as he pats the large chest before which he stands. “I'm Saul Vancaskerkin proprietor of this fine establishment and your host for tonight. I hope you found your reception by the Devil’s lovely temptresses suitably entertaining.”

This is met by a general murmur of laughter and a few catcalls.

“Let’s take this moment to thank Old Scratch himself for attending this event. Not only did he loan us these lovely, dark angels, but he also emptied the deepest vaults of Hell itself to provide the gold for this tournament.”

With this, Saul directs the crowd’s attention up to the imp in the birdcage. At the sudden attention, Old Scratch flies into a flurry of rage, banging the cage bars, spitting, howling, and screaming vile epithets in Infernal at all assembled. His theatrics are received with guffaws and even a smattering of applause. As the crowd dies down, Vancaskerkin continues.

“Of course, he plans on replacing what he loses in gold with the souls of those of you who don’t win. The tournament rules are quite simple—as you play, you’ll earn more chips. And with those chips, you’ll be able to bribe your way out of the current Hell you’re trapped in, working your way down deeper until you get to Old Scratch’s treasury. Currently, all of you are Old Scratch’s prisoners in the first of the Hells, Avernus. If you want to work your way down to the ninth circle, you need to win games and more chips. Golden eyes, silver teeth or copper hearts, these bits of flesh and bone are what the devils use in Hell for currency, and they’re what you’ll need to pay in order to bribe your way into the next layer of hell. The first player to win a game after reaching Nessus not only keeps his winnings for that game, but also earns back his soul and the ten thousand silver coins that the Devil put up for this tournament. You can, of course, decide to cash out your winnings at any time you want, but if you do, or if you run out of money entirely… well, that means Old Scratch gets you.”

Vancaskerkin grins evilly and the caged imp cuts loose with another profane tirade. “And that earns you the Devil’s Mark and an escort out of the game hall until the tournament is over. What, you ask, exactly is this Devil’s Mark? Well, it’s something too utterly horrible to even contemplate. The forfeiture of your very soul, it is. But I suppose I can show you what it is—gods know I more than deserve the Devil’s Mark. In fact, better make it two. Ladies?...”

With that, the two succubi accompanying him lean over and each firmly plants a kiss on Saul’s cheek with her ruby-red lips. When they pull away, their lip rouge has left clearly visible prints in the same shocking red on his cheeks. Saul beams as he cries out, “The Devil’s Mark, everyone!” which is greeted with a flurry of shouts, catcalls, and hoots. “Now, let’s cheat the Devil and take his gold!” which prompts one more rabid flurry from the imprisoned fiend above, and with that, the tournament begins.

Across the table from Girri, Lixi announces loudly to those clustered nearby: "Ladies, Gentlemen; please step up and place your bets for our first spin of the Ghoulette wheel!"

 

[CanadienneBacon]

Listening to Saul, Girri feels a growing nervousness threaten to overtake her. The sights and sounds of The Golden Goblin verge and blur about the thin line between reality and fantasy, and Girri--as a person naturally shrouded in the filmy veil between worlds--finds the symbolism of the night's event to be overwrought. Girri's eyes swim in the haze not only of the smoke-filled interior of The Goblin, but in the general milleu of the evening...so many images, all with double or triple meaning, and all overlaid.

With a hardened grunt of dissatisfaction, Girri turns to Lixy's wheel and lays down five teeth. "Five on bloodline, Lixy."

 

[Ambrus]

Only two other players opt to plunk some chips down for the wheel's inaugural spin; a lanky young man in a salt-stained piecemeal outfit and a ruddy cheeked older man with a receding hairline who sports a brocaded vest and pantaloons. The former puts only one tooth on 'profession' while the latter sidles up to Girri and likewise places his bet of an eye on 'bloodline' lightly brushing the back of her hand with his in doing so. "You seem to be a woman of fine breeding miss; I'll gladly bet my gold on it." He says with a wink and grin at Girri.

Lixy waits a few moments to see whether anyone else wishes to step up to the table before waving a delicate hand over the wheel. "Alright. No more bets. Best o' luck to you all..." With a fluid gesture the croupier sets the wheel to spinning. After a few moments of clicking the Ghoulette wheel comes to rest with Dungo facing 'clothes'. The desiccated head loudly draws breath, cracks its mouth open and begins to speak in a hollow mocking tone. "All them scarves make ya look like a festive wind mill. Mind that ya don't get carried aloft by a stiff breeze missy." As Dungo quiets down, Lixy pulls a small lever on the back of the table, causing the twelve wedges around the head's central pedestal to swing down; thereby depositing all of the lost chips into a strongbox beneath the table. The croupier then smiles broadly at the patrons clustered around the table as she once more launches into her spiel. "Come now. Only twelve spots on the wheel; one's a winner every round. Try yer luck, but watch out for the Ghoulette's sharp tongue. Step up. Step up now. Place yer bets ladies and gentlemen..." All around her Girri can hear similar invitations being barked out by the dealers at neighboring tables.

 

[CanadienneBacon]

Pegging the younger man dressed in piecemeal cloth as a dockworker or sailor, Girri then shifts her focus to the older male of the pair. When the elder man brushes the back of her hand with a pinky, Girri does two things. The first, which she does out of long force of habit when dealing with men, is to mentally lock down all emotion as an internal ward against harm. The second is to purr and smile at the man but smoothly retract her hand and remove herself from his vicinity. Hopefully having signaled that she is not for sale, Girri waits for the wheel to cease spinning before winking at the older man and winsomely adding, "Never trust a woman. We don't have yer best in'trest at heart."

Having done her best to put distance between herself and the pantalooned older man, Girri moves from Lixy's table and begins to scout for a second gaming table, trying to decide what looks most interesting.