As soon as he is firmly stood on the ground, Fyn does his best to straighten himself up and tidy up his appearance as best as he can before he looks around the tavern, already trying to find a mark. He looks for any wealthy-looking people (so he can swindle them), any ongoing games (so he can cheat at them), or any drunkards with a few too many gold pieces left.
Fist watches the lad work, wonderin' if he'll play the cardshark this time. Or ma'be he'll pick a few poor sods to clean ou' wit' a stray bump or shuffle. Hells, maybe he'll play a Honeypot an' hang off some rich boy's arm.
The big man still 'members the time he picked wrong. The lad'd tried passin' as some sweet blonde number an' started hangin' offa some big me'n ol' sellsword, only for the drunk fool to try gettin' fresh righ' away. They were halfway up the stairs when the lad turned back, red as a beet. The look on the poor fool's face weren't near half as funny as when he told Fyn to his face that it di'n matter an' he want'd 'im a'yway. Fist 'ad juuust man'ged ta sober up 'n' bust the door down ta stop 'im from sealin' the deal. Good times.
There is a fat little gnome with several necklaces, bracelets, and jeweled rings on each hand, at the bar talking to a tiefling.
Near the back is a table with a dwindling card game, only 3 players remain.
In the far left corner of the room are several people gathered together and crouching down with their backs to you.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"A rightful place awaits you in the Realms Above, in the Land of the Great Light. Come in peace, and live beneath the sun again, where trees and flowers grow."
— The message of Eilistraee to all decent drow.
"Run thy sword across my chains, Silver Lady, that I may join your dance.”
"Ah, okay, that took a turn.' He looked down to come face-to-face with um... the doll's behind. He looked up with curiosity to Molly then back to Gotu. 'She wants you to kiss it.' The wizard's words filled him with a certainty he wished wasn't true. 'Eughhh...' He tried his best to hide a grimace at the look of the doll's rear-end, but... (haha) ... he couldn't help let out a whimperous "Oh."He didn't like this situation. Not one bit. Though he didn't mind being flirtatious with anyone ('twas fun), but to be flirted with back... or whatever this was... was not something he wanted to be in.
"Mwah!"He quickly leaned in, grabbed the doll, and kissed its butt while shutting his eyes tight. As soon as the deed was done, he reeled back and his shoulders sank. With the swoosh of his cloak, he hid his face and began to wipe his mouth really rapidly. "Bleh! Ugh!" With another swoosh back, he looked to face them,"Fun~! Yes. So very lovely. Yes... let us go... shall we!"
Under the haunting cloak of night, the eerie duet of laughter between Molly and Asbestos filled the air with a chilling symphony. As the changeling's laughter tinged with a trace of uncertainty, Molly's escalated into a wild cackle, her glee untamed as the dark shadows danced around them.
As Asbestos agreed, albeit hesitantly, to her macabre request, Molly’s eyes sparkled with a sinister delight. The sight of his fangs, mimicking hers in a playful yet apprehensive manner, only served to heighten her amusement. When he reluctantly leaned in to kiss the doll’s rear, Molly watched with an expression of twisted satisfaction, her eyes gleaming under the moonlight.
"Mwah!" The sound of Asbestos’s quick peck on Drusilla's fabric bum echoed slightly in the quiet night. The moment he reeled back, his face hidden beneath his cloak the Rhinemaiden clapped her hands gleefully, her laughter pealing through the air like the ringing of a bell in a deserted chapel.
"Ah, Biscotti immer sagte, you were a arschküsser," Molly exclaimed weaving her words into a tapestry as dark as the night. With a gleeful smirk, she softly tapped Asbestos's cheek several times with the palm of her hand, praising him. "Perhaps if you’re a guter auf, I may sogar allow you zu küssen my pretty kitty."
Her grin widened, revealing those sharply pointed fangs once more, as she continued in a sing-song voice, "And ja, your completion, let uns gehen jetzt to the tavern."She declared, sealing their departure with a nod, her doll swinging from one hand as she turned, ready to lead the way to the tavern, her steps light and whimsical, filled with a dark promise of the night’s capricious whims.
Later, at the Falling Goat, a bastion of vice and vagary, with its infamous sign creaking above, bore witness to a night laced with the breath of the clandestine. Into this lair of the city's disparate souls—merchants bloated with coin, laborers' calloused hands clutching at tankards, and grifters with smiles as sharp as daggers—slipped the Rhinemaiden, her presence a silent crackle in the air charged with the Falling Goat's stew of spices and spirits. As she split off from Asbestos and Gotu her pale blue eyes, swirling with dark amusement, surveyed the room as if expecting someone.
Molly's entrance, shadowed and fleeting, caught whispers like cobwebs. A serving wench by the name of Tamyra, pale as the full moon overhead and with a tremor in her tone, leaned in, her words a fearful breeze that nudged the Rhinemaiden toward a door less traveled. It was a portal rarely noticed, shrouded in the tavern’s furthest corner where the light dared not pry.
The door swung inward, revealing the austere figure of a lady draped in velvet shadows, her silver-white hair a river of moonlight that cascaded over robes rich with the hues of twilight nobility. The lady's ageless beauty was etched with the same lines that sketched Molly's face, the resemblance not just striking but eerie—a lineage unveiled in the curve of a cheek, the set of a jaw, the wild dance in eyes that promised both mirth and malice.
A smile, edged with the promise of secrets, curled the lady's blood red lips, revealing a threat and a welcome all in the flash of her fangs. With an urgency wrapped in secrecy, she beckoned. Molly, her mind a carousel of chaos, stepped over the threshold into the room suffused with whispered histories and veiled future.
As the door closed with the finality of a sealed fate. The serving wench, a keeper of a secret too heavy for her station, threaded her way back to the bar with a shuffle born of fear and thrill. Her voice, thick with the low-born lilt of the streets, was a tarnished silver as she spoke to the bartender in a hushed whisper, "Her ladyship, the Mistress of Whispers," each syllable heavy with the weight of unspoken rumors, "she’ll be havin’ the Cabernet Sauvignon, the rare blut vintage ye don’t just pour for any sod. Two goblets, for a meeting of the blood, and call for her carriage 'round back. It’ll be a short affair, her ladyship says—sharp as her smile, no doubt."
In the wake of it all, the tavern's murmur swelled once more, a wave crashing against a shore of curiosity.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
"Hahah yes... so very fun..." He gave a hearty laugh at Fist's jest and took Molly's pat on the cheek unsurely, grinning all the way anyways. The weight of her words went over his head as he struggled to comprehend her jokes. The ones he could catch were just as unsteady. 'My pretty kitty?' He looked over at the taxabi and his head tilted at him, 'Ah, yes those two are pretty close. I would love to pet him too!'
When it came time to go into the tavern, he gave a look towards both Fyn and Gotu, wondering with whom should he follow. He would have loved to go at it with another changeling. Oh what fun two thieves in the night can have with many faces and no responsibilities~ Gee without a new boss, they surely can do anything!' 'And what can that anything could be?' He asked himself this question. Asbestos looked up at the tavern. Oh the Falling Goat, the place he called home, yet no one knew he was home, and surely no one ever bothered to knock! Inside the walls of this place he started his own mini garden, one filled with crawling tomato vines by the cracks of sunlight the attic, the basil and mushrooms in the basement, and no one ever seemed to notice the many small crickets he had placed on stage one night. They must have all scattered anyways because on some nights, while wild-shaping as a mouse in the walls, he could still hear them chirp.
"I wonder what my friends are up to today,"He declared. Everyone in the tavern was his so-called friend. He always listened to their gossip, so at this point he might as well should be. He shapeshifted into a persona of a tall long-blonde-haired light brown-skinned elf woman ('It matches with the flowers!'), took off his cloak to reveal that he had been wearing a light blue woman's blouse and trousers the entire time, shoved the cloak into his bag, and then walked inside. Without hesitation, he strutted straight up to the bartender. "Hello. Yes. I am the entertainment...." He looked down at his outfit, "I throw knives." He looked hard at the bartender's face, with a finger in the air, "And I also juggle!" He turned around and gave a thumbs up to the guys. 'Yes I am the distraction~'
He did know how to throw knives. And was quite good at it from his time at the circus! He thought, if we're gonna steal, why not give them a show! He leapt up on stage without waiting a word for the bartender nor the others to react. "I am the Great Tangerini, thrower of the knives! Anybody want to be my assistant? No? Yes?!"
((Charisma: Persuasion Check: 3 + 2 )) ((ughghg I had to edit this because I saw a misspelling but it was originally an 8 for the persuation check :/ yay low roll))
Fist's lookin' round the room, himself; not for a mark mind ye, but debtors. He's been runnin' a protect'n racket. Now that the big boss is belly up, so's rent.
His eyes are scannin' the room fer f'miliar faces.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Fyn backs into a shadowy corner and steps back out a moment later, having changed his appearance to that of a beautiful half-elven woman. Fyn wanders up over to the gnome and sits down on the bar stool next to him. He looks up at the barkeep and says "Two of your strongest drink, please. One for myself and one for the very handsome man to my right.", speaking just loud enough for the gnome to hear.
Those who left early missed that Lace had flowers for the "Ladies" who worked for the Ravens. Most just got the two flowers, White Rose and one that Biscotti had picked. But some got a third flower. Red Camellias, Pink Camellias, Red Sweetpeas or Red Roses were the third flowers, Finally she returned to the grave.
"I haven't forgotten you my friend. May the afterlife treat you as kindly as you've treated us." She lays a White rose and a Deep, dark crimson rose with the black orchids.
"I do hope they haven't burned the place down before I get there", she said as she set off for the Falling Goat. She removes her black veil and puts on her spectacles on the way.
Entering, she looks around.
Her favorite "criminal" activity is what they euphemistically call "Wenching". She looks for women that might charge.
Her next favorite is games of chance that provide a mental challenge. Can she keep track of the cards or odds with an "investigation" roll, to see if she can statistically beat the house?
She keeps a subtle eye on her guildmates. Looking for distractions, as well as back doors or safes that might be unguarded with a big enough distraction, maybe it's good not to advertise that we're all together. Wait? Tangerini? What on earth is Asbestos up to? Yeah, the voice matches. She stays aware of him, uh, her, but doesn't act yet.
Her last resort is drinking games. Her size hides her constitution and she can hold more alcohol than it looks like, but that's a dangerous game.
Perception 19 to see this, rolled on character sheet.
The Great Tangerini draws a few momentary stares as some worry about a possible fall and injury, while a few others morbidly hope for an accident.
@Fist
Fist spots Grander, he's getting an ale at the bar. This is one of the collectors. They pick up a bunch of earnings so that those 'working' don't have to return to the guild to drop off their loot. He can be counted on for a few gold and maybe some gossip or rumor.
@Fyn
The Gnome merchant half turns to see who is buying him a drink and notices the beautiful half elf with wider eyes. His conversation with the tiefling trails off and the tiefling takes offense to suddenly being ignored in mid word.
@Lace
Xalette would be a sure a thing (and up to you if it's the 1st time with her or you are returning to an old favorite), or you could take a chance on trying to pick up someone.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"A rightful place awaits you in the Realms Above, in the Land of the Great Light. Come in peace, and live beneath the sun again, where trees and flowers grow."
— The message of Eilistraee to all decent drow.
"Run thy sword across my chains, Silver Lady, that I may join your dance.”
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Smithy ensures he is one of the first in. He has mostly been the planning guy, the tech guy, the mind so to speak. He doesn't, however, think that role is gonna be used today. He is doubting if he should join in the hustles, the thievery and what not, but he never was much good in it. Maybe he should just have a drink and be a watchful eye, that he can do. He'll just see how the evening unfolds if any of his guild mates might need a hand, or a safe, he can hopefully deliver that. May this be a good night for them all.
As he walks in he moves to the bar and asks for an ale, he tries to find a corner to sit in and keep watch for anyone who might look at his guild mates as though they might be on to them.
Perception: 22
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"grandpa" Salkur, Gnome Arti/Sorc: Forged in Chaos | Pepin, Human Arti/Cleric: Goblin horde | Mixtli, Volc Genasi Arti: Champions of the Citadel | Erix Vadalitis, Human Druid: Rising from the last war |Smithy, Human Arti: Night Ravens: Black orchids for Biscotti | Tamphalic Aliprax, Dragonborn Wizard: Chronicles of the Accursed | Doc, Dwarven Cleric (2024): Adventure at Hope's End | Abathax, Tiefling Illriger: Hunt for the Balowang | Gorin Mestel, Human Arti: Descend into Avernus
Fist smiles, a wretch'd grin full of crook'd yellow teeth and rotten gums. He's quick to sidle up to his lil' crony, chastisin' his candor in as deep a voice he can muster. He lays a hand on the smarmy lil' bugger, thick fingers diggin' into his wiry shoulder.
"'Didn't see ya at te grave, Gr'nder. Wha' gives? Suddenly, te big boss ain't worthy o' yer r'spect?"
[Intimidation via Sheet: 16]
Fear, like any fine drink, is a gre't conversation starter, an' Fist is himself a learn'd con'o'sir o' te process.
So far no one is 'looking sideways' at any of the Night Ravens.
@Fist
Grander seems a little shaken. "I meant no disrespect to the memory of Biscotti. But with an organization as big as the Night Ravens there's always a lot of coin on the streets. And doesn't the second law of Biscotti's Creed say: "A win isn't a win unless you can pocket the pouch and count the gold."
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"A rightful place awaits you in the Realms Above, in the Land of the Great Light. Come in peace, and live beneath the sun again, where trees and flowers grow."
— The message of Eilistraee to all decent drow.
"Run thy sword across my chains, Silver Lady, that I may join your dance.”
Grander seems a little shaken. "I meant no disrespect to the memory of Biscotti. But with an organization as big as the Night Ravens there's always a lot of coin on the streets. And doesn't the second law of Biscotti's Creed say: "A win isn't a win unless you can pocket the pouch and count the gold."
"Aye, it does. An' on that note--" He sudd'nly wraps his big arm 'round the blubberin' fool's head, not unlike how he held Gotu e'rlier, squeezin' juuust 'nough to let 'im know he's not off the hook yet. Picking up the collector's drink, he empties the mug in mere seconds.
"Baaahhh—... (belch) Now then, les'se the pouch. If there's anythin' missin', boyo, it's comin outta yer hide."
He jabs the brat in 'is chest an' holds out his hand. While he waits fer the scatterbrain to git ev'rything out, he asks, "Anythin' good happenin' tonight? How's the Red Light distr'ct lookin'?" Two brothels owe 'im back pay an' he aims to collect.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
@Fist
Grander fishes out a pouch and hands it over. "There's a new ship came arrived in the dock district, the 'Cracked Pearl,' and word has it that the crew have leave with several weeks pay, which means the brothels and gambling houses will be full."
(ooc: the pouch contains 3 x 100 gold, and if you take it all there will be a wait before the next one as Grander will have to start over from scratch, but if you leave a little something for his trouble then it will be sooner rather than later that you get your next collection.)
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"A rightful place awaits you in the Realms Above, in the Land of the Great Light. Come in peace, and live beneath the sun again, where trees and flowers grow."
— The message of Eilistraee to all decent drow.
"Run thy sword across my chains, Silver Lady, that I may join your dance.”
As the man's beefy fist closes 'round an empty leather pouch, there comes from him a sharp intake o' air.
"Hoo... boy. Ya really jus' did tha', didn't you? Boyo?" He puts force on tha' las' "B"
He takes a nice, deep breath as a soft, genu'nely warm smile crosses Fist's face. Anyone ne'rby who knows 'im should know tha' look. He picks on te kid, sure. But 'dis? 'Dis call'd for tact.
He looks out from the stage to see the lack of recognition he got. Asbesto's eyes dart around the room as he slowly twirls on stage, almost seductively, to give a stalling moment to think "Ahhh yes~ No one wants to join the Great Tangerini onstage? Yes? What a shame..."He slowly takes out some multi-colored handkerchiefs that are tied end-to-end with each other from seemingly out of nowhere, and begins to twirl with them. "Let me try this again."He catches notice of the others in the guild, trying to figure out what they are plotting. Lace was observing. He took out the daisy from behind his ear and pointed it all across the audience in a playful manner, doing a 'come here' gesture at everyone. Fyn ('Ah, he is now a woman too. Nice.') and Smithy by the bar. Where did Molly go? And Fist... shaking up some man that the druid had never seen before ('Ah, always up to something that one).
'Ah yes, that one!' In a moment, he hops off stage and spins towards the bar. "Would you, dear, like to be my assistant?"The druid winks at Fyn and then throws his arm around the ignored tiefling. With that caressing touch, he uses the spell, Charm Person.
((Wisdom save: 17 + 1 = 18)) ((sorry I'm really not familiar with the rules of dnd so do I also role a wisdom save or only the creature (the tiefling) that is being charmed does?))
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
(ooc: the target of the spell usually rolls and they have to beat your spell save DC)
Save vs. Charm: 15
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"A rightful place awaits you in the Realms Above, in the Land of the Great Light. Come in peace, and live beneath the sun again, where trees and flowers grow."
— The message of Eilistraee to all decent drow.
"Run thy sword across my chains, Silver Lady, that I may join your dance.”
The tiefling reluctantly stands but starts dragging his feet when you try to get him up on stage, "I'm not volunteering you fool! Find someone else!"
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"A rightful place awaits you in the Realms Above, in the Land of the Great Light. Come in peace, and live beneath the sun again, where trees and flowers grow."
— The message of Eilistraee to all decent drow.
"Run thy sword across my chains, Silver Lady, that I may join your dance.”
Grander fishes out a pouch and hands it over. "There's a new ship came arrived in the dock district, the 'Cracked Pearl,' and word has it that the crew have leave with several weeks pay, which means the brothels and gambling houses will be full."
(ooc: the pouch contains 0 x 100 gold, and if you take it all there will be a wait before the next one as Grander will have to start over from scratch, but if you leave a little something for his trouble then it will be sooner rather than later that you get your next collection.)
Zeren brightens at the mention of sailors with full purses.
"Come on, let's at least try to make some profit this evening! Let's shake down a few sailors! Or maybe rob where they're spending their coin if you all feel up to it."
As soon as he is firmly stood on the ground, Fyn does his best to straighten himself up and tidy up his appearance as best as he can before he looks around the tavern, already trying to find a mark. He looks for any wealthy-looking people (so he can swindle them), any ongoing games (so he can cheat at them), or any drunkards with a few too many gold pieces left.
Perception: 21
Fist watches the lad work, wonderin' if he'll play the cardshark this time. Or ma'be he'll pick a few poor sods to clean ou' wit' a stray bump or shuffle. Hells, maybe he'll play a Honeypot an' hang off some rich boy's arm.
The big man still 'members the time he picked wrong. The lad'd tried passin' as some sweet blonde number an' started hangin' offa some big me'n ol' sellsword, only for the drunk fool to try gettin' fresh righ' away. They were halfway up the stairs when the lad turned back, red as a beet. The look on the poor fool's face weren't near half as funny as when he told Fyn to his face that it di'n matter an' he want'd 'im a'yway. Fist 'ad juuust man'ged ta sober up 'n' bust the door down ta stop 'im from sealin' the deal. Good times.
There is a fat little gnome with several necklaces, bracelets, and jeweled rings on each hand, at the bar talking to a tiefling.
Near the back is a table with a dwindling card game, only 3 players remain.
In the far left corner of the room are several people gathered together and crouching down with their backs to you.
Under the haunting cloak of night, the eerie duet of laughter between Molly and Asbestos filled the air with a chilling symphony. As the changeling's laughter tinged with a trace of uncertainty, Molly's escalated into a wild cackle, her glee untamed as the dark shadows danced around them.
As Asbestos agreed, albeit hesitantly, to her macabre request, Molly’s eyes sparkled with a sinister delight. The sight of his fangs, mimicking hers in a playful yet apprehensive manner, only served to heighten her amusement. When he reluctantly leaned in to kiss the doll’s rear, Molly watched with an expression of twisted satisfaction, her eyes gleaming under the moonlight.
"Mwah!" The sound of Asbestos’s quick peck on Drusilla's fabric bum echoed slightly in the quiet night. The moment he reeled back, his face hidden beneath his cloak the Rhinemaiden clapped her hands gleefully, her laughter pealing through the air like the ringing of a bell in a deserted chapel.
"Ah, Biscotti immer sagte, you were a arschküsser," Molly exclaimed weaving her words into a tapestry as dark as the night. With a gleeful smirk, she softly tapped Asbestos's cheek several times with the palm of her hand, praising him. "Perhaps if you’re a guter auf, I may sogar allow you zu küssen my pretty kitty."
Her grin widened, revealing those sharply pointed fangs once more, as she continued in a sing-song voice, "And ja, your completion, let uns gehen jetzt to the tavern." She declared, sealing their departure with a nod, her doll swinging from one hand as she turned, ready to lead the way to the tavern, her steps light and whimsical, filled with a dark promise of the night’s capricious whims.
Later, at the Falling Goat, a bastion of vice and vagary, with its infamous sign creaking above, bore witness to a night laced with the breath of the clandestine. Into this lair of the city's disparate souls—merchants bloated with coin, laborers' calloused hands clutching at tankards, and grifters with smiles as sharp as daggers—slipped the Rhinemaiden, her presence a silent crackle in the air charged with the Falling Goat's stew of spices and spirits. As she split off from Asbestos and Gotu her pale blue eyes, swirling with dark amusement, surveyed the room as if expecting someone.
Molly's entrance, shadowed and fleeting, caught whispers like cobwebs. A serving wench by the name of Tamyra, pale as the full moon overhead and with a tremor in her tone, leaned in, her words a fearful breeze that nudged the Rhinemaiden toward a door less traveled. It was a portal rarely noticed, shrouded in the tavern’s furthest corner where the light dared not pry.
The door swung inward, revealing the austere figure of a lady draped in velvet shadows, her silver-white hair a river of moonlight that cascaded over robes rich with the hues of twilight nobility. The lady's ageless beauty was etched with the same lines that sketched Molly's face, the resemblance not just striking but eerie—a lineage unveiled in the curve of a cheek, the set of a jaw, the wild dance in eyes that promised both mirth and malice.
A smile, edged with the promise of secrets, curled the lady's blood red lips, revealing a threat and a welcome all in the flash of her fangs. With an urgency wrapped in secrecy, she beckoned. Molly, her mind a carousel of chaos, stepped over the threshold into the room suffused with whispered histories and veiled future.
As the door closed with the finality of a sealed fate. The serving wench, a keeper of a secret too heavy for her station, threaded her way back to the bar with a shuffle born of fear and thrill. Her voice, thick with the low-born lilt of the streets, was a tarnished silver as she spoke to the bartender in a hushed whisper, "Her ladyship, the Mistress of Whispers," each syllable heavy with the weight of unspoken rumors, "she’ll be havin’ the Cabernet Sauvignon, the rare blut vintage ye don’t just pour for any sod. Two goblets, for a meeting of the blood, and call for her carriage 'round back. It’ll be a short affair, her ladyship says—sharp as her smile, no doubt."
In the wake of it all, the tavern's murmur swelled once more, a wave crashing against a shore of curiosity.
"Hahah yes... so very fun..." He gave a hearty laugh at Fist's jest and took Molly's pat on the cheek unsurely, grinning all the way anyways. The weight of her words went over his head as he struggled to comprehend her jokes. The ones he could catch were just as unsteady. 'My pretty kitty?' He looked over at the taxabi and his head tilted at him, 'Ah, yes those two are pretty close. I would love to pet him too!'
When it came time to go into the tavern, he gave a look towards both Fyn and Gotu, wondering with whom should he follow. He would have loved to go at it with another changeling. Oh what fun two thieves in the night can have with many faces and no responsibilities~ Gee without a new boss, they surely can do anything!' 'And what can that anything could be?' He asked himself this question. Asbestos looked up at the tavern. Oh the Falling Goat, the place he called home, yet no one knew he was home, and surely no one ever bothered to knock! Inside the walls of this place he started his own mini garden, one filled with crawling tomato vines by the cracks of sunlight the attic, the basil and mushrooms in the basement, and no one ever seemed to notice the many small crickets he had placed on stage one night. They must have all scattered anyways because on some nights, while wild-shaping as a mouse in the walls, he could still hear them chirp.
"I wonder what my friends are up to today," He declared. Everyone in the tavern was his so-called friend. He always listened to their gossip, so at this point he might as well should be. He shapeshifted into a persona of a tall long-blonde-haired light brown-skinned elf woman ('It matches with the flowers!'), took off his cloak to reveal that he had been wearing a light blue woman's blouse and trousers the entire time, shoved the cloak into his bag, and then walked inside. Without hesitation, he strutted straight up to the bartender. "Hello. Yes. I am the entertainment...." He looked down at his outfit, "I throw knives." He looked hard at the bartender's face, with a finger in the air, "And I also juggle!" He turned around and gave a thumbs up to the guys. 'Yes I am the distraction~'
He did know how to throw knives. And was quite good at it from his time at the circus! He thought, if we're gonna steal, why not give them a show! He leapt up on stage without waiting a word for the bartender nor the others to react. "I am the Great Tangerini, thrower of the knives! Anybody want to be my assistant? No? Yes?!"
((Charisma: Persuasion Check: 3 + 2 )) ((ughghg I had to edit this because I saw a misspelling but it was originally an 8 for the persuation check :/ yay low roll))
<---- me irl slow reader, even slower writer easily jumpy thanks for being patient
DM: Drakkenheim Mind and Matter + Blood Secrets + What's in the Here and Now; Twimee'zah Roleplay
Player: Night Ravens; Dragonlance; 100 Dungeons of the Blood Archivist; LARP in Sharn; Last Chapters
Fist's lookin' round the room, himself; not for a mark mind ye, but debtors. He's been runnin' a protect'n racket. Now that the big boss is belly up, so's rent.
His eyes are scannin' the room fer f'miliar faces.
[Perception, rolled on character sheet: 24]
Fyn backs into a shadowy corner and steps back out a moment later, having changed his appearance to that of a beautiful half-elven woman. Fyn wanders up over to the gnome and sits down on the bar stool next to him. He looks up at the barkeep and says "Two of your strongest drink, please. One for myself and one for the very handsome man to my right.", speaking just loud enough for the gnome to hear.
Deception (if needed): 16
Those who left early missed that Lace had flowers for the "Ladies" who worked for the Ravens. Most just got the two flowers, White Rose and one that Biscotti had picked. But some got a third flower. Red Camellias, Pink Camellias, Red Sweetpeas or Red Roses were the third flowers, Finally she returned to the grave.
"I haven't forgotten you my friend. May the afterlife treat you as kindly as you've treated us." She lays a White rose and a Deep, dark crimson rose with the black orchids.
"I do hope they haven't burned the place down before I get there", she said as she set off for the Falling Goat. She removes her black veil and puts on her spectacles on the way.
Entering, she looks around.
Her favorite "criminal" activity is what they euphemistically call "Wenching". She looks for women that might charge.
Her next favorite is games of chance that provide a mental challenge. Can she keep track of the cards or odds with an "investigation" roll, to see if she can statistically beat the house?
She keeps a subtle eye on her guildmates. Looking for distractions, as well as back doors or safes that might be unguarded with a big enough distraction, maybe it's good not to advertise that we're all together. Wait? Tangerini? What on earth is Asbestos up to? Yeah, the voice matches. She stays aware of him, uh, her, but doesn't act yet.
Her last resort is drinking games. Her size hides her constitution and she can hold more alcohol than it looks like, but that's a dangerous game.
Perception 19 to see this, rolled on character sheet.
@Asbestos
The Great Tangerini draws a few momentary stares as some worry about a possible fall and injury, while a few others morbidly hope for an accident.
@Fist
Fist spots Grander, he's getting an ale at the bar. This is one of the collectors. They pick up a bunch of earnings so that those 'working' don't have to return to the guild to drop off their loot. He can be counted on for a few gold and maybe some gossip or rumor.
@Fyn
The Gnome merchant half turns to see who is buying him a drink and notices the beautiful half elf with wider eyes. His conversation with the tiefling trails off and the tiefling takes offense to suddenly being ignored in mid word.
@Lace
Xalette would be a sure a thing (and up to you if it's the 1st time with her or you are returning to an old favorite), or you could take a chance on trying to pick up someone.
Smithy ensures he is one of the first in. He has mostly been the planning guy, the tech guy, the mind so to speak. He doesn't, however, think that role is gonna be used today. He is doubting if he should join in the hustles, the thievery and what not, but he never was much good in it. Maybe he should just have a drink and be a watchful eye, that he can do. He'll just see how the evening unfolds if any of his guild mates might need a hand, or a safe, he can hopefully deliver that. May this be a good night for them all.
As he walks in he moves to the bar and asks for an ale, he tries to find a corner to sit in and keep watch for anyone who might look at his guild mates as though they might be on to them.
Perception: 22
"grandpa" Salkur, Gnome Arti/Sorc: Forged in Chaos | Pepin, Human Arti/Cleric: Goblin horde | Mixtli, Volc Genasi Arti: Champions of the Citadel | Erix Vadalitis, Human Druid: Rising from the last war | Smithy, Human Arti: Night Ravens: Black orchids for Biscotti | Tamphalic Aliprax, Dragonborn Wizard: Chronicles of the Accursed | Doc, Dwarven Cleric (2024): Adventure at Hope's End | Abathax, Tiefling Illriger: Hunt for the Balowang | Gorin Mestel, Human Arti: Descend into Avernus
Fist smiles, a wretch'd grin full of crook'd yellow teeth and rotten gums. He's quick to sidle up to his lil' crony, chastisin' his candor in as deep a voice he can muster. He lays a hand on the smarmy lil' bugger, thick fingers diggin' into his wiry shoulder.
"'Didn't see ya at te grave, Gr'nder. Wha' gives? Suddenly, te big boss ain't worthy o' yer r'spect?"
[Intimidation via Sheet: 16]
Fear, like any fine drink, is a gre't conversation starter, an' Fist is himself a learn'd con'o'sir o' te process.
@Smithy
So far no one is 'looking sideways' at any of the Night Ravens.
@Fist
Grander seems a little shaken. "I meant no disrespect to the memory of Biscotti. But with an organization as big as the Night Ravens there's always a lot of coin on the streets. And doesn't the second law of Biscotti's Creed say: "A win isn't a win unless you can pocket the pouch and count the gold."
"Aye, it does. An' on that note--" He sudd'nly wraps his big arm 'round the blubberin' fool's head, not unlike how he held Gotu e'rlier, squeezin' juuust 'nough to let 'im know he's not off the hook yet. Picking up the collector's drink, he empties the mug in mere seconds.
"Baaahhh—... (belch) Now then, les'se the pouch. If there's anythin' missin', boyo, it's comin outta yer hide."
He jabs the brat in 'is chest an' holds out his hand. While he waits fer the scatterbrain to git ev'rything out, he asks, "Anythin' good happenin' tonight? How's the Red Light distr'ct lookin'?" Two brothels owe 'im back pay an' he aims to collect.
@Fist
Grander fishes out a pouch and hands it over. "There's a new ship came arrived in the dock district, the 'Cracked Pearl,' and word has it that the crew have leave with several weeks pay, which means the brothels and gambling houses will be full."
(ooc: the pouch contains 3 x 100 gold, and if you take it all there will be a wait before the next one as Grander will have to start over from scratch, but if you leave a little something for his trouble then it will be sooner rather than later that you get your next collection.)
As the man's beefy fist closes 'round an empty leather pouch, there comes from him a sharp intake o' air.
"Hoo... boy. Ya really jus' did tha', didn't you? Boyo?" He puts force on tha' las' "B"
He takes a nice, deep breath as a soft, genu'nely warm smile crosses Fist's face. Anyone ne'rby who knows 'im should know tha' look. He picks on te kid, sure. But 'dis? 'Dis call'd for tact.
He looks out from the stage to see the lack of recognition he got. Asbesto's eyes dart around the room as he slowly twirls on stage, almost seductively, to give a stalling moment to think "Ahhh yes~ No one wants to join the Great Tangerini onstage? Yes? What a shame..." He slowly takes out some multi-colored handkerchiefs that are tied end-to-end with each other from seemingly out of nowhere, and begins to twirl with them. "Let me try this again." He catches notice of the others in the guild, trying to figure out what they are plotting. Lace was observing. He took out the daisy from behind his ear and pointed it all across the audience in a playful manner, doing a 'come here' gesture at everyone. Fyn ('Ah, he is now a woman too. Nice.') and Smithy by the bar. Where did Molly go? And Fist... shaking up some man that the druid had never seen before ('Ah, always up to something that one).
'Ah yes, that one!' In a moment, he hops off stage and spins towards the bar. "Would you, dear, like to be my assistant?" The druid winks at Fyn and then throws his arm around the ignored tiefling. With that caressing touch, he uses the spell, Charm Person.
((Wisdom save: 17 + 1 = 18)) ((sorry I'm really not familiar with the rules of dnd so do I also role a wisdom save or only the creature (the tiefling) that is being charmed does?))
<---- me irl slow reader, even slower writer easily jumpy thanks for being patient
DM: Drakkenheim Mind and Matter + Blood Secrets + What's in the Here and Now; Twimee'zah Roleplay
Player: Night Ravens; Dragonlance; 100 Dungeons of the Blood Archivist; LARP in Sharn; Last Chapters
(ooc: the target of the spell usually rolls and they have to beat your spell save DC)
Save vs. Charm: 15
The tiefling reluctantly stands but starts dragging his feet when you try to get him up on stage, "I'm not volunteering you fool! Find someone else!"
Zeren brightens at the mention of sailors with full purses.
"Come on, let's at least try to make some profit this evening! Let's shake down a few sailors! Or maybe rob where they're spending their coin if you all feel up to it."
Gotu sighs tiredly as he drags his feet to the bar, ordering the cheap booze while he pays attention to his fellow thieves.