The Day the Daevan Stood Still [IC]

[lostsole31]

"Perhaps it is I who need to see where your best interests lie ..."

Roll a Will saving throw ...

[lostsole31]

Your mind is already in pain, and this time the Tall Man sends forth waves of psychic pain. Still, that's it. After that, the pain subsides, and you don't hear anything more in your mind. What do you do?

[meemaas]

Daevan fights the pain before finally relenting. "Alright, you win. I'll perform your ceremony at Dawn, but forgive me if I mess up the seal even a little. You know the condition i'm in doesn't help any of this. But not sacrificing Dirk. He's the only protection I have from society."

[lostsole31]

"There are only two of you, and you are both too tired to have a half-night of rest. If you bind me now, I will protect you while you sleep."

[meemaas]

"How do you plan to protect me while I sleep, if you don't mind explaining that part?"

[lostsole31]

"Explain, I shall not."

[meemaas]

"You better not be lying to me. I'm taking an awful risk relying on a spirit such as you." Daevan excuses himself from Dirk for a short while, using snow and his his knowledge to draw the seal for Al-kra, allowing the spirit to give him direction to ensure it is done correctly, before finally performing the song for the first time where it matters.

Spoiler

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Going to attempt to bind Al-kra, not aiming for a Capstone Empowerment, or anything else that might increase the DC.

In addition, he will be choosing the Luck pact augmentation instead of his default.

[lostsole31]

"Don't you understand? You take a risk with any spirit."

It's going to take a lot longer than the normal time. Subconsciously, he has been putting the song in the back of your mind, but when it comes down to it, you have had no practice actually drawing the seal you see in your mind's eye. Still, you have a talent for it and you finally make the seal in ten minutes, all the while singing the song, terrible to hear, and worse to know.

Spoiler: The Symbol

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It is cold. It is quiet. Too quiet, you keep waiting and flexing your mental muscles making sure you aren't surpr- *RRRIIIIIPPPPP!!!*

The sound is awful as if all of creation is being ripped asunder. You watch as the air above the seal painfully tries to hold back the extrusion of interstellar hatred. But our world is not strong enough against such terror, and you watch as a piece of that incorporate space is peeled back tortuously, and at an angle that is impossible to comprehend. From out of the yawning blackness beyond climbs out a creature whose tall, gangly features are wrong in the way it came out from yet another unexpected vertex to stand, towering above you.

You sit, crouched on your knees and looking up in dread, and only just staving off actual terror. There is a vague roundness to the top of this semi-silhouette of what might be a human of incredibly gaunt proportion. There is a movement - like it might be moving its "head" - but so askew are your perceptions that you can't tell if it is looking at you. No eyes, no musculature, the truest black of which gives no clue as to orientation. But then ... then you sense it. Looking at it you can't - not with your eyes - see if it is looking at you. But you know. And faster than your mind can comprehend the black, ellipse of its "head" zooms forth towards you - your focus on it so that you cannot tell if body follows or head alone, but it swallows your perception until there is nothing but blackness.

In the distance of this black void, you hear a terrible, blood-curdling scream. Muted and far off, but icing your blood more than this weather ever could. And then, just before your consciousness can bear no more, the final straw is the realization:

It was you who screamed.

[lostsole31]

Daevan, a mental "ping" wakes you immediately. Twenty feet from you and coming closer is Dirk. What do you do?

[meemaas]

Daevan sits up and looks around, trying to understand exactly what just happened, his focus lost after the mess of the manifestation.

[lostsole31]

The seal is already gone.

"Are you okay?" he asks. "It looks like you fainted. I had just managed to get the fire going when I heard ... when I heard a bone-chilling scream. Come back to the fire where it's warm."

He takes you back where you sit down. Interestingly, while you are still freezing and the fire is most welcome, you no longer feel hungry or thirsty. As you sit there, you are in a meditate funk, but therein your intuition slowly finds what it is you're capable of with Al'kra actually bound to you as a vestige ...

Spoiler

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Major Granted Abilities
Paranoid Chill: You inflict a target within 30 feet with chilling fear, causing it to become shaken for 1 minute and suffer 1d6 points of nonlethal damage, plus an additional 1d6 points of nonlethal damage for every 5 binder levels you possess. In addition, a target that is immune to fear effects loses its immunity for 1 minute unless it is mindless. A successful Will save prevents a target from loosing its fear immunity. After using this granted ability, it becomes expended for 5 rounds.

Minor Granted Abilities
Inspire Terror: You inspire dread and fright within one target within 30 feet as a standard action, causing it to become frightened for 5 rounds. Whether or not the save is successful, a creature cannot be the target of this granted ability again for 1 day.

Murder Master: While you are bound to Al’kra, you gain a +2 insight bonus on damage rolls. This additional damage is not multiplied on a critical hit. In addition, when you attempt to coup de grace a target or target a creature with a death effect, increase the save DC by +2.

Spatial Bleeding: You rend space around you as a swift action, gaining the benefits of blur for 5 minutes. These minutes do not need to be consecutive, but they must be spent in 1-minute increments.

Spatial Leap: You take advantage of the unseen in order to move unhindered, allowing you to teleport 5 feet per binder level you possess as a move action whenever you possess concealment (including from spatial bleeding). This movement does not provoke attacks of opportunity. If you use spatial leap to move into a space that is threatened by an opponent, that opponent is flat-footed against the next melee attack that you make against it before the start of your next turn. You can use this ability a number of times per day equal to 3 + your Charisma modifier.

Void Ray: Daevan can unleash a ray of focused darkness that deals 1d6 points of cold damage as a standard action. This attack has a range of 30 feet. Additionally, a creature struck by the ray must succeed on a Fortitude save or become blinded for 1 round. Daevan can use this 8/ day.

There is a stronger influence of the Tall Man in your soul, though he is no longer talking in your mind ...

Spoiler: Personality Influence

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Personality Influence: You scheme of how to murder those you encounter (including Dirk!). You must act aggressively at all times.

"What's that?" Dirk says. "I noticed you won't look at yourself, but you have strange markings on your arms."

[meemaas]

Daevan mentally steels himself against Al'kra's influence, knowing what it will cost him. He grits his teeth and growls softly at Dirk. "They are just a sign of my magic. You'd do your best not to ask anything more for now." He stands up and moves past Dirk, pushing the other aside to make his way to the fire, ready to warm up now that the being that tormented him is supporting his most basic of needs.

[lostsole31]

Dirk is too fatigued and frostbitten to deal with any nightime studying of his books. With that exhaustion, and your own actions, he doesn't mess with you - including attempting to help you with long-term healing. He goes to sleep. Come to think of it, so do you.

The next morning, what little frostbite you endured was gone quickly enough. You healed 5 hit points (only) and you are no longer fatigued. However, in his dreams, Daevan doesn't remember specifics, but has a feeling that he was tutored by the Tall Man as far as how to heal himself, by suppressing the Tall Man's vestige (this does not suppress his non-vestige aspect) briefly. Your mind expanded as secrets arcane and philosophical flooded your mind; you even seemed to be filled with a great many legends and stories of both myth and history. The amount of knowledge - mundane, occult, and secret - that he hs opened to you is stunning.

One thing is undeniable, though ... however much you may hate him [The Tall Man], it may be love-hate. Through him there is a vast increase of your power, but at the cost that he is permanently bound to your soul. Of course, given that you awake from his sleeping tutelage to bind a SECOND vestige, perhaps that's okay. You do need to conduct another ritual (at your leisure, of course) for The Tall Man to attempt to gain a good pact. He might give up some of the absoluitist control he has, diminishing your murderous and aggressive urges. Once that's done, it will remain a good pact (including pact augmentation) until such time as it might become poor in attempting capstone, getting a vestigial boon, or changing the constellation aspect.

[meemaas]

Daevan moves away from Dirk shortly after waking, and draws upon his newfound knowledge. He takes the time necessary to redo the Tall Mans ritual, hoping to lessen the influence he is suffering from.

[lostsole31]

How far away from Dirk do you go?

You know that Tall Man's seal is on your arms. Do you use that seal or do you go through drawing a new one in the light snow and mud?

[lostsole31]

Last night, you were tired and in somewhat of a trance, practically doing autographia in the snow and divorced from the visual and tactile of what you were doing. Considering it was the first time you bound any creature in your new form AND the binding is NOT the normal binding ritual .... heh-heh-heh ... you didn't really come to terms with your body, yet.

But first, The Tall Man's guidance for the ceremony itself is simple. See, just sing the Ballad of the Tall Man ... normal orientation (meaning with the words NOT pronounced backwards) and the song portion is just fine. Singing it backwards in Aklo was more like signing your name on the dotted line of a devil's contract, though you didn't know what you were getting, and Al'Kra went from leasee to part-owner. The normal binding ritual is much simpler. Had you resisted binding him first (which was not likely given you have trouble remembering the others), this story might have gone a different way. But, it went the way the Fates expected.

First, the color of your skin is a sickly pallor, but toughened. Every ounce of every sinew in your body shows like it is at maximum engorgement of blood, and yet you are spindly so it is more of a grotesquely tight-muscled look rather than something (infinitesimally) more acceptable in a bulk-muscle form. Your arms are long. Very long. This is one of the reasons your feel has been so askew and without thinking about it your knuckles were dragging on the ground. How long? Long enough that Daevan can attack an opponent 10' away with his claws. Oh, claws? Yeah. Claws. And they're not little. They are a bit longer, thicker, and sharper than you would expect for someone your size.

The concept of this alien horror - skin, musculature, abnormally long arms, oversized claws - that is a bit much for you and you are confused for you know not how long. Not long enough to have done anything, but definitely long enough to strain your psyche just a little more.

You recover, and look at the underside of your forearms. There, in black on your gray-white skin is the seal of Al'Kra, the Operated. There is only half of a seal on each arm, and you fit your arms together, side by side, to create the full seal.

Spoiler

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See the picture where the portrait normally goes on your character sheet. As far as my view on the tattoo, it's almost like John Constantine's expulsion tattoos on his forearms, but yours are on the inside, and instead of putting them together in the same orientation, you would hold them - outward (like Constantine, but undersides), vertically, and with arms going in opposite directions in front of your chest.

You conduct the ritual, singing the Ballad of the Tall Man (after he tells you all that you need to do), but nothing happens. Nothing.

"Oh," comes his voice in your mind, "you didn't define pact length, so it defaults to 24 hours. And since you did this last evening, well it fits that we should do this at night, doesn't it?"

[meemaas]

"All I want is to gain a bit more control over my thoughts. Since you've already made it clear that I'm stuck with you forever, that's the least I can ask, right?" Daevan sighs a little and starts off back towards Dirk, knowing full well that the Tall Man won't give up his control that easily.

[lostsole31]

Luck is with the two of you today as the temperature gets to just above 40 or so. He knew better than to do this yesterday when it was cold, but towards mid-day the hungry, dehydrated man takes little handfuls of the melting snow and puts only a little in his mouth at one time ... allowing it to warm up ... and then swallowing it once it isn't dangerous anymore. Finally, with the mountains quickly descending into hills you see your destination.

With the warmth, the sun is burning away some of those low-lying clouds. (Dirk calls the cloud mass "stratus" clouds.) And in so doing, there is revealed to be a dark shape in the sky. As you spend the day descending less and now covering much more horizontal ground, this strange blackness is something you both look at. Dirk says that the town is known as Riddleport, and the darkness in the sky over it is known locally as Blakely's Shadow, or simply the Blot. The town is bisected by a river leading into the gulf, and crossing over that river down there appears to be some sort of massive arch. Dirk will tell you that it is an ancient thing called the Cyphergate.

The Blot changes shape and size somewhat, but is generally ovoid in shape and hovers alternately over the harbor and gulf just south of Riddleport. It is dark like a shadow but does allow some light through, albeit dimly, and flying objects can faintly be seen through its obscuring haze. It casts a faint shadow on the ground beneath it depending on the angle of the sun. The Blot hangs at a fairly constant altitude of about 2,500 feet and appears to be roughly 250 feet long by 130 feet wide. The Blot seems to move in a pattern that appears erratic until studied closely. It follows an elliptical orbit traveling north over the town and south over the gulf, shifting north (towards you, inland) and south (towards the town and the gulf) as the tides shift. It is closest to Riddleport at high tide, Dirk explains.

Dirk the Unprepared had already prepared himself with some bits of knowledge concerning this thing. Riddleport has a long history of mysterious phenomena connected to its infamous Cyphergate Riddle—the long-sought hidden purpose of the stone arch that rises over the harbor. Old accounts tell of strange lights moving in the sky and sounds issuing forth from it without explanation. The manifestation of a shadow in the sky is something new, though. No known magical traditions explain the existence of the hovering shadow, and it does not bear the trappings of any known spell. The wizard Argentus Blakely (a noted Cyphergate scholar) postulated that the Blot is some sort of convergence for focusing arcane energies. He has yet to prove his hypothesis but is running several experiments to test its validity.

This local cyphermage and stargazer [Blakely] first noticed the Blot before it was visible to the naked eye. He called it an “atmospheric shadow” and it was subsequently named for him as it became more visible. Blakely flew up to investigate the eerie shadowy Blot a week after it appeared, and reported that the interior was strangely cold but that the blot itself seemed no different than a regular cloud—apart from its unusual color. Blakely’s been out of town recently, on a long journey to Magnimar and thence to Korvosa to research the Blot in the libraries there. In his absence, the Order of Cyphers has been leading the charge on additional localized investigations of the Blot.

Dirk knows believes that there is no known analogy in nature. Daevan, even querying the Tall Man, knows nothing more, but can corroborate the lack of anything known in nature like it.

"It's been here for several weeks," Dirk says.

"We can finally get some food tonight. But we need to destroy your cloak and make a loincloth. It will be enough for me to convince others that you are a summoned servant. Going naked suits nobody (pun intended). Do you need to do anything to ready yourself before we are in town in about three hours (towards sunset)?"

[meemaas]

Daevan nods softly. "We should. But don't ask me to talk to anyone." After that, he stops, dropping his cloak and starts to tear at it to make a loincloth as suggested, wrapping it around himself to cover his manhood...or whatever it has become, while keeping his mind afloat to try and fight his influences.

[lostsole31]

"With permission," he says with a smirk, "I am going to mark you as my 'property.' Won't hurt, but my ring places my seal on anything. Some conjurers create these servitor creatures called eidolons? Well, when they appear the conjurer's mark shows visibly on the forehead of the thaumaturgist and usually on the same of the servitor. You are so widly bestial and unlike anything even learned men will have ever seen, I can probably get away with saying that you are my magical creation/manservant/bodyguard. Sound good?"

[meemaas]

"I seem to recall something like that..Yes, I'll allow you. For now. But be careful what you say. Neither of us wish to regret your words." Daevan grits himself, knowing that he will regret it if he messes up.

[lostsole31]

He presses his ring to your forehead and concentrates briefly.

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Yeah, about that. We normally have a sense of spatial awareness of our head, right? Well, it seems he stands a little further back - just a little and you even still see his wrist and lower palm when he touches his ring to your forehead. Your forehead seems ... thick.

He then puts the same seal onto his own forehead.

"Yup, that'll do it." He smirks and nods, adding, "Riddleport is rife with thieves. Heck, it's run by thieves. The better power projection we have the ... well, the better. With you, I can't be my usual more subtle self, so I guess I will be my moniker.

"Devil-Dave, my magical servitor and bodyguard. They love names like that here, and it protects your own name. Your hideous visage, a fitting name, easy illiteration to remember who to fear, simple and more grounded, 'approachable name' ... all of that will work. This might be one of the few places where this act might work, and you might not get burned as a demon and me with you)."

You travel into town ...

Spoiler: Flag of Riddleport

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---

RIDDLEPORT AT A GLANCE

Most of Riddleport’s buildings are composed of wood—logs or planks—with multiple floors and steep, high-peaked roofs of wooden shingles. They are built in close quarters, and in some cases their wooden upper floors sag and lean together from the constantly sodden conditions. Stone fireplaces ward off the bitter winter cold and the chill that lingers in the fog-laden streets for much of the year, save for in high summer. During this two-month period, warmer air currents from the south bring a muggy, oppressive heat along with great black mosquitoes that breed in the nearby marshes. Many burn peat treated with incense in their hearths during these months to ward off the vermin with their thick smoke.

The major streets of Riddleport are cobbled, often becoming rain-slick cataracts during the wet seasons. Cobbles are often missing or crushed by the incessant traffic, leaving gaping holes and ruts in even the most well-tended thoroughfares. Side streets tend to be relegated to muddy tracks that are swift to turn into stinking morasses of sucking mud and filth. Riddleport doesn’t have much of a sewage system, and relies mainly on gutters along street edges to carry refuse to the river and harbor. One feature unique to the major streets is the frequent oil lamps mounted on iron poles that provide beacons of light in the benighted mists. These are set in sturdy hurricane lamps and burn thick, rancid oil from barrel-shaped reservoirs at the lamppost base—a byproduct and innovation of the Gas Works. These wavering lights give off illumination equal to a torch in even the foulest weather but are not well-tended—just over a third of them are out on any given night, in need of repairs or refueling.

[meemaas]

Daevan smiles a little during the conversation. "Devil-Dave....I kinda like the sound of it. Certainly not a name I would have accepted in the past, but I'm definitely not the same person I used to be." He follows behind Dirk, keeping quiet once they enter town, but holding a semi-aggressive posture so as to intimidate any who might have challenged them.

[lostsole31]

The first place you reach after general plots and so forth is called Lubbertown (see OOC, #27). To the east of Lubbertown are two places Dirk mentions, the City Mortuary and the Burying Ground (see OOC, #28 & #29), though you don't actually go there.

You get to a well-built city gate. Make no mistake, from Lubbertown in you get some looks, and many are uncomfortable. Dirk is met by the Town Guard and the expected "What the-?" questions. He explains that you are his "magically created servitor." They don't seem to buy it. He's not a bad liar, but he's not great, either. He banks more on the outlandish than on actually having a glib tongue. You could have done far better ... under normal circumstances. Unfortunately, speaking as your own defense - no matter how good you might affect a fast story and a quick tongue - would probably do you no good.

He sets down a shiny gold piece to put them at ease. "Fair enough. Classify 'it' as an 'exotic beast,' then, and that should cover the tax, yes?"

They look at each other and at Dirk, and likewise they BS what they can, citing things like "handling fees," "liability insurance," "safe conduct fees," and the like. In the end, Dirk gets bilked for a whopping four gold. As you finally get through ... and he has paperwork on you to boot (which he wouldn't have had before) ... Dirk says, "that was cheaper than expected, and now you are protected by law as myyyyyy ... property."

This road is on the eastern side of the river and inner harbor. Directly across from you once you get inside the gate, in the middle of the harbor, is a place called Maskyr's Island (see OOC, #25). Dirk also tells you about the area across the harbor on the west side, which seems to have a strip of civilization along the water but built nonetheless, called the Free Coin District (see OOC #26). Three hundred feet on the road south is a little road leading east into the rocky precipice called The Devil's Fork (see OOC, #24), the military district. A couple hundred feet further (mind you, you are passing life, but this is just stuff he points out) is the River Runner, an inn overlooking the Velashu River (see OOC, #23). As you continue another block or so south, you will easily see a large pyramid to the east in the center of town, with warm, inviting lanterns and crimson silk curtains, the House of the Silken Veil (see OOC, #17). A couple blocks further south on your walk, even as you seem to head further into town on this street, Dirk points out the Velashu Ferry to the west (see OOC, #4). The wide street curves eastward, but jutting to the southeast is a small path, and Dirk tells you about The Fish Bowl (see OOC, #18).

A block and a half to the east and you turn south again, but on this corner is a large, well-appointed structure Dirk calls The Mystery of the Gate (see OOC, #19); he says it is his favorite place to stay when the Hero God otherwise favors his purse. Unfortunately, that is not the case, but you have business elsewhere, anyway.

That business leads you into a place of greater noise and stench, the Wharf District (see OOC, #9). A couple times you have actually embarrassed yourself by vomiting. It seems that you have to get used to having an enhanced of smell. You've had a good view of the Inner Harbor (see OOC, #3), but now you have a grand, ship-choked, soot-sodden view of Riddleport Harbor (see OOC, #2), and there .... a couple hundred yards away, is the whopper that helped put Riddleport on the map in modern times: the Cyphergate (see OOC, #1).

[meemaas]

Taking the tour in quietly and not speaking much, Daevan finally speaks up softly to Dirk as they admire the Cyphergate. "Where are we staying? And when do we attempt to make some extra gold for our time here?"

[lostsole31]

"Tonight. This very night," he says, nodding. "We got here just in time. I was worried. Then again, to be early is to waste time - and money on lodging waiting for the thing. Any other night? You wouldn't be able to play and we would only have a chance of making this work for you as a bodyguard. Tonight? You'll still get plenty of stares, but they'll think you are a committed transmuter come to play 'in the spirit' of things. When we get inside it will make sense."

He gets to his coin pouch. "I am going to give you six coins ... one gold, and five silver. The gold is for your entry into the 'Cheat the Devil and Take His Gold Tournament,' and the silver is for you to do with as you please."

He counts the coins out and starts to hand them to you, then he sighs and stops. He puts the coins in your hand. Then he empties his remaining 4 gold and 5 silver into the pockets of his traveling out fit. He hands you his belt pouch. "Can't very well hold onto a handful of silver all night. You need both claws, er, hands. In the meantime, I will also procure us a guest suite on site."

---

The Gold Goblin Gambling Hall stands as a reminder of better times in one of the slummier sections of Riddleport, just off its wharves and within bowshot of the Velashu River.

The Goblin, as it is often called, was one of the first and finest gambling halls established in Riddleport many years ago. At the time, its brass-plated dome attracted the attention of sailors as they first made port and offered them a fine venue where they could relax and wile away the time at games of chance. As time and mismanagement tarnished its splendid veneer, the Goblin fell from prestige, going from attracting the captains and officer corps of incoming ships to their surly and questionably groomed crews, and finally becoming a haunt for deserters, ne’er-do-wells, and worse. As its clientele deteriorated, so did its fortunes.

Although the Gold Goblin stands in a much-neglected neighborhood and the building itself has long stood dormant and empty, it makes a comeback on its big day today. Crowds of participants and spectators mill about on the street or file together through the main doors to sign up for the tournament. Overseeing this gathering is a larger-than-life-size statue of a goblin, apparently cast in glittering gold, that stands atop the entry stairs with a smirking expression of satisfaction on its face, as if personally enjoying the crowds that shuffle past it into the doorway beneath the gambling hall’s gilded dome.

[lostsole31]

Just inside the main doors, two sultry beauties scantily clad and wearing faux bat wings, devil horns, and tails play the part of alluring succubi. Both are employees of the Gold Goblin, and they cheerfully register contestants for the tournament and process entry fees. Armed guards stand nearby to either side of an immense treasure chest into which each patron’s entry fee is added. The guards are on hand to not only protect the money, but to prevent any overzealous admirers from trying to dare the infamous touch of a succubus.

Beyond the registration table is the hall’s game floor. Dozens of gamblers, waitresses dressed as succubi, and bouncers mill about the room, wandering amid tables offering various games while dealers shuffle cards, roll dice, and spin wheels. Moving through this throng are a dozen more of the barely clad, bat-wingedvixens serving drinks and batting coal-black eyelashes flirtatiously for tips. In the center of the chamber is a short podium atop which sits a massive gold chest affixed to the floor by similarly gaudy chains. On either side of it stands a bare-chested bouncer in the exotic garb of some foreign sultan’s court. Each stands with muscled arms crossed over his chest and with a naked scimitar of prodigious size tucked through his waistband.


High above them, from the hall’s cloth-draped ceiling, hangs a brass birdcage within which crouches a small, bat-winged, pointy-tailed devilish creature that sulks as it gazes over the room and occasionally rattles the bars threateningly. D&D both easily recgonize the caged creature as an imp.

Spoiler: Caged Creature

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Dirk pays a gold and is given some type of contract to sign. He reads and laughs and nods his head and signs his name on the paper. He steps to the side and you're up. You step up, and a parchment with some type of contract is set in front of you. If you want to join the Tournament, you'll have to sign and it costs a gold (or ten silver). You are knowledgeable enough (surprise!) to recognize that this is entirely nonbinding as any kind of legitimate soul-document. It's only purpose is to affix the rules of the tournament, stipulate the entry fee, and be a rather outstanding marketing ploy to provide verisimilitude for the event.



Does Devil-Dave sign the contract and pay the gold?

[meemaas]

Daevan signs under his false name, not speaking a word, but handing over the gold coin after doing so, signifying his readiness to enter. He then follows after Dirk, keeping alert to his surroundings as they walk.

[lostsole31]

As you fall in behind Dirk, and with a couple other men, an attractive woman is there to ebulliantly greet the little clump as a few more men come together. You take a look around. Yes, this grand establishment has definitely seen better days. A wide veranda runs along the front between two short wings of the building, but is now tarnished and marred by the impact of years of weathering and bears a patina of of greenish-brown.

With the table just out front, standing before the main doors of the building is an 8-foot-tall statue cast in shining gold to resemble a larger-than-life goblin (q.v.). It balances a golden dogslicer on a pile of gold as it smiles smugly down on all customers who pass beneath its gaze. The doors themselves are of a strong dark wood imported from southern lands and are decorated with multiple panels depicting signs of luck and good fortune (four-leaf clovers, crossed fingers, and so on). They can be locked and barred from the inside. The hostess' voice brings you out of your observations.

"Welcome to the Gold Goblin, handsome, the hot spot for turning fortunes and winning wagers
beneath the arch. Looking for the squarest games, most honest dealers, and prettiest blamed
barmaids anywhere in the port? Well, you found ’em, sugar! Ready to be a rich man? Hope so,
’cause tonight’s your night. Belly up to a table and get to winnin’; we’ve got the gold to make
your dreams glitter. Good drink, fine food, and warm company’s extra, but we’ve got all that
too—at prices so cheap we might as well be giving it away. So find a spot, honey, order a pint,
and leave it all to us, ’cause here, even a goblin could win his weight in gold!"
—Mirri Salassa, head barmaid and greeter at the Gold Goblin Gambling Hall

She takes you in to the casino floor (described and with visual, above). The casino floor is a wide room carpeted in rich red that has been recently patched in many places. Silken banners hang from floor to ceiling along the walls. The chamber has a false ceiling 20 feet above, draped in layers of horizontally hung, gauzy beige curtains. Light is provided by numerous chandeliers hanging below this false ceiling as well as several large copper braziers spaced around the room with live coals to give the chamber a more hellish light for the tournament. At the back of the chamber between the kitchen doors is a small dais bearing a bust of Desna, goddess of luck.

Mirri directs Dirk over to a counter to the far right when he asks about rooms. There are two types of rooms available, but there is only one guest suite that includes a cot for Devil-Dave. It was rented out last night to a .... the concierge stops as two burly men carry a stretcher with a body under a white sheet. He goes over and looks under the sheet and then lets the men continue to carry the body outside. "You're in luck! The guest suite was recently vacated."

Dirk pays the 1 gp fee for the night for your room. He is given the key, and you follow. You are brought around the counter to the door (the concierge counter is only a partial ... there is no office) that leads to the Atrium. This chamber serves as the entrance to the guest wing. It is floored in white marble, although the hallway and rooms themselves have only thin, somewhat worn carpet over wooden planks. In the center of the chamber stands a marble statue that once depicted a robed maiden holding a harp, although its head and one arm are now broken away and missing. Vancaskerkin passes this off as an ancient piece of art, but actually got it cheap from a shipment of art that was damaged in transit.

A door to the left leads to the master suite, but the door ahead leads to the hallway with the majority of rooms. Yours is the first room on the right. Guest rooms are simply yet comfortably furnished with a double bed, table and chairs, and a fireplace. Since Dirk got the guest suite for the two of you, it is identical to such rooms, but has a small side room with two cots that can be used for manservants (that would be you, Devil-Dave) or storage. He painfully takes off the backpack he's been carting around. Interesting he's had that and it has things in it, but he mentioned not having any survival gear, though you did see him pull out a spellbook to study from it.

Back out to the main and turning right to the north end of the Gold Goblin is the Goblin's Tankard. This bar serves the entire house with a constant line of serving wenches taking orders and carrying trays of drinks between the bar and the casino floor. Two bartenders work the bar during the casino’s hours (NOT counting tonight, which has a lot of girls working), serving drinks and occasionally picking a sot’s pocket. A long bar of polished wood extends along the back wall of the room and curves around at the end. Behind are mirrored shelves holding all manner of glassware as well as kegs of ale, beer, and mead and bottles of wine and liquor. At each end of the bar is a large tip jar. It is also here that Dirk orders a meal for himself. Though money is tight, he is still voracious after going without food in the wilderness and gets a common meal (bread, stew, carrots, beer) that costs him 15 copper. He will tip 2 copper. Eating here still gives quite an easy view into the main hall (and even here is quite cramped).

The Gold Goblin’s main hall is a very large room, and there are more than a dozen different gaming tables available for contestants to wager, win, and lose. For much of the early evening, as the registration process continues, the gathering crowd spends time playing cards and other non-sanction games, drinking, or otherwise carousing. By the time dusk approaches and the tournament gears up to begin, there are more than a hundred participants in attendance, along with 17 dealers and croupiers, six succubus-costumed servers, and six burly bouncers crammed into the room.

As the windows begin darkening with twilight, several gamehall employees enter, carrying torches shaped like pitchforks skewering burning heads made of straw and cloth to light several large braziers, giving the hall a more infernal hue. A hush falls over the gathered crowd as a short man climbs to the central podium, accompanied by two gorgeous “succubi,” and stands before the gold, chain-shrouded chest there with a demoness on either side. 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. This is Saul Vancaskerkin, the owner of the Gold Goblin and host of the tournament. He bows before the crowd and clears his throat before speaking.

“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 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. Each time you win, you’ll be awarded a golden eye. If you come in second, you’ll get a silver tooth. And third place wins a copper heart. 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, girls!”

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 by 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.

[lostsole31]

Okay, Daevan has a whopping 5 silver pieces. He can cash any amount of that into chips as follows:
Copper Heart >>> Dull Red >>> 1 cp value
Silver Tooth >>> Dull Gray >>> 1 sp value
(Gold Eye >>> Dull Gold >>> 1 gp value) - listed in case he gets that much.

So, you are not a professional gambler. (Surprisingly, most of these folk aren't.) However, unless you have Profession (gambler), gambling is a CHA check ... which is right up your ally. (No, other skills such as Bluff/ Sense Motive do not help.) The average "knowledgeable" gambler (1 rank, 12 WIS) has the same modifier as you (+5).

A patron can cash in his chips at any time for money or for badges. If a player opts to cash out his chips for money before the tournament is over, he not only gains the Devil’s Mark but can only claim his winnings at 50% of the chips’ value. Only by remaining for the duration of the entire tournament can a gambler cash in his chips at 100% value. The Devil’s Mark can also be awarded to anyone who Saul or his bouncers decide is being too disruptive or isn’t gambling. Once awarded the Devil’s Mark (either via a kiss from a shapely succubus or by a hand-delivered smear of red pigment in the case of unruly patrons) a patron is escorted out the back door, which opens out onto the “River Styx” (actually the banks of the Velashu). Despite receiving the Devil’s Mark, most folk can re-enter the tournament if they pay the entry fee again, although those the bouncers marked as troublemakers must also make a successful Disguise check to get back inside.

If a patron opts to cash in chips for badges, he can do so according to the rates listed on his contract (see above). Note that all badges cost gold eyes, and most require you to hand in your previous badge. Once a character earns the Badge of Nessus, in theory he becomes a finalist. As soon as several patrons earn Badges of Nessus, they all play in a short round of Golem, with the first player to win five hands being declared the winner of the Tournament and the 10,000 sp grand prize. I doubt you will last that long, but there we are.

The minimum stake for each 5 minutes of play is 1 silver tooth. Mind you, based on stakes you can end up receiving copper hearts for partial wins or the like.

Since this is pbp, there is no way we are going to do this round-by-round. What I want to know, is what is Daevan's overall plan?