"If you can ensure said independent contractor's complete discretion, I think that would be an excellent route to take.  I'm sure payment could be arranged tomorrow.""

Vasati placed the key back under his shirt, and proceeded to start losing round after round of cards.  The coin purse was the bribe for this conversation, and the goal was to empty it of its last coin the exact moment said conversation was over.

"I would of course be more than willing to provide an extensive background on where the secrets to solving said riddle have been kept all these years, with the understanding that said secret guardians would be considerably displeased to learn that they had failed in their stewardship.  They might have figured it out already, but they certainly don't know who solved it.  I trust this will not change?  Roberta is a lovely woman, or so I have been told, but she does like to keep her secrets buried as deep as the bones of her ancestors."

His voice was quiet and low.

"She keeps the key to her heart as close as I do the key to mine, but my whispers might have been able to find a way around all those ever so dangerous conversations one would encounter if they tried to take the traditional route.  Barbed words and vengeful parents, one can never be too careful when one seeks a woman's affections.  Sometimes knocking on the front door is the worst move you can make, especially is she isn't home."

It felt good to play the game, and he hoped the Dealer before him was sharp enough to catch that he was playing it.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:28, Wed 30 Jan 2019.

The dealer took about 15 long seconds to consider his response carefully, before laying a card down.

"Of course, you have to be discrete when seeking discretion. It will take a certain amount of time to arrange someone who won't speak to either of the concerned parties. One day will not cut it."


He took another card and considered his words carefully.

"That's an interesting story. Personally, I'm too low born and a bit too old to find much interest in such tales of noble women's scandalous behaviors. The stakes are a little too high for me. However, if it's a tale you wish to tell, I do know another table of players who would love to hear it.... though you'd have to proven that you'd sealed the deal.


Damn, looks like I lose again. You are a fine player. To good for my level, in fact. All and all, the stakes you are playing for are playing are getting a little too rich for my blood. If I were you, I'd just buy into their game with your stake. They play for keeps, but they run as fair a game as you'll find at that level."

Once again, he took a chew of the root of his pocket.

"I'd not have thought it, you seem like a well put together Dealer.  I won't challenge you on your knowledge of yourself though, that's a fool's game.  Who would I best be served speaking to, if I wished to keep playing?"

He took a deep sigh, and shrugged.

"Well, it's your money. If you want in at the table, like we discussed the first time you sat down, I can introduce you to them.

Otherwise, I will ask to find a few people who can give you the info on whatever game you are playing, ensure your stake is acceptable.

Either one will take a while to set up though.

The first is easy, but there are some pretty big names involved, and convincing them that you are really playing for keeps with what you say is going to take a bit of convincing and set up.

If you want to make your own game, it's a different sort of player you need. That'll take time to find someone who isn't going to ruin your game by talking to the wrong people.

You just send me a message as to whether you are interested in the first type of game, or the second. If it's the second, there's a substantial buy in."

"I think we'll both find it's much easier to convince people that I've more than earned a spot at the big table if the other players all know I've solved a riddle that's remained a mystery for generations."

Vasati tapped out the ash on his lit cigarillo, before grinding the thing onto his boot heel.

"Name a price and give me a location, and I'll make sure it's met tomorrow.  I'm going to be out of town for a few days, but when I return we can meet with your loremasters to verify the voracity of my boasts.  Once that's done, I think the others will be all too interested to deal me in a round, no?"

OOC: Sorry for the inactivity, have been busy/distracted for some time now. I'll start getting back into things.

After she was done with the cave adventure, Plaga returned to her new base of operations, the cutters hideout. With a fortune donated by Vasati, she had enough to skip a lot of hard work and start raising her empire again. But first things first, she seeked Kanua to know what the current situation was on the city.

(OOC- So, shall I carry on with a report from Kanua on how the city's underworld is going?)

OOC: A briefing would be good. I'll have Plaga simply acknowledge it for now, and move her to Vasati's negotiation thread.

So, the Cutters have been under attack from the Shellbacks for the past little while.

The Shellbacks genearlly consider themselves superior to the Cutters, and have a number of VERY good fighters among them. Kanua reports that the might have died to one of their attacks - her lungs were fille with water, but this was not a big deal to her.

The Cutters however, are not stupid, and simply avoid open conflit near the water where the Shellbacks operate and travel with impunity. Disrupting their new drug trade has been difficult, simply beacuse the Cutters can sell to wealthier patrons that the Shellbacks can't risk attacking. They've banked a fair amount of cash, even accounting for the bribes they've had to pay to guards and the like.

They are quite willing (and want very badly) to strike back at the Shellbacks, but tangling with them near the water is a nightmare (a lot of the Shellbacks know drowning style) and the guilt has protected them from the cutter's new found wealth.

The Saints do nothing. They are normally friendly with the guild, but they don't work for them, and they are very happy buying large amounts of product from the Cutters, so they (as usual) remain neutral. This technically favors the Cutters, allowing them an avenue of drug sales in a relatively safe location.

Incidentally, the Saints have seen a MASSIVE upscale in importance, and have been throwing around a huge amount of money. Numerous long term reconstruction loans they took were paid off in their entirety, and membership in their group is up. There's apparently some new drug (Kanua smirks) that they've been using that's become very popular with their sacraments.

There are a LOT of guild inquiries as to where these drugs are coming from, and they may be funding some of the Shellback's attacks and inforamtion gathering. The cutters are very good at avoiding them tough, and casualties on both sides havebeen liht.

It's known that Falchetta reps have been looking around for someone who sounds a lot like Gaja.

Fishing harvests are down and food has become more expensive. Fishermen report sea monster attacks weekly from oversized versions of normal fish, and boats are coming back damaged. The council has decreed restrictiosn on harvesting in certain areas that are particually bad, but the problem seems to be getting worse. Lorenzi is worried.

There's growing talk: The guild is getting worried about all this money and drugs that have shown up, and have taken some extreme measures. A guard ship went out to Bastard Isle without prisoners, and came back in the dead of night. No one talks about who was aboard, but you'd imagine it's headbreakers of some sort.

The city is on edge.

Note: It would be pretty trivial for most of you to find this stuff out, particularly Vasati.

After her meeting with the guild representatives, Plaga returned to the Cutter territory to inform the gang of the news. As soon as she arrived, she asked Kanua to gather the heads so Plaga could explain to them the benefits the guild offered, and the peace made with the Shellbacks. Once that was done, Plaga added:

"All that said, I want you to immediately come to me if the Shellbacks attack us or our trade. Likewise, stay away from their territory. Any unnecesary conflict would prove troublesome to our agreement with the guild. I'm sure you understand what the 1% cut means for our operations, and I'll make sure to punish anyone that endanger it, be Shellback, Cutter or third party. Keep Kanua informed of any irregularities you see, and our bussiness shall steadily keep expanding"

There is a collective look from all of your lieutenants when you announce this, from the excitable headpounder you first met, to the careful amateur chemist who handles your drugs.

The look says "HOW IN THE NAME OF GOD DID YOU PULL THAT OFF?"

It fades though, after they look again. You are the one who does impossible things, after all.

Profits kick up significantly. Incidentally, it is not the loss of the cut that makes the biggest difference, it is the lack of bribes and harassment.

After initial exhilaration of the product had worn off, the Saint's prices had begun to decline, just slightly, as they realized that you were their only customer, and much of the outlay went to bribing guards so that the cutters could deal free of the Shellbacks. Not a lot, but the Saints weren't... saints exactly (pun intended) and recognized that they should get a "bulk discount" if they were the only market who would buy from you.

Without harassment, the cutters are able to deal with anyone, and don't have to bribe the guards. Soon, profit increases drastically. The cutters no longer quiet resemble roving bands of beggars in terms of their clothing, and they begin to carry more weapons. Nothing too ostentatious, but it's certainly a recognisable difference.

The biggest issue right now in the area is, annoyingly, inflation.

The saints have been on a mad purchasing spree, and spending money like wildfire. Local timber supplies have been stretched to the breaking point, bought up by Incresae Scholar's new students. The price of fish has skyrocketed due to the ongoing issues with the fish supply from deep water fishing (though shore line fishing and shallow boats are still mostly unaffected).

Vasati emerged from the root cellar of a decrepit inn, dusting himself off as he adjusted his collar.  The well oiled leathers and dark satin cloak were gone, replaced with grey woolen breeches, tunic, and a long coat.  The cloth was well made, but had seen some wear and tear, to the point where it would not immediately draw unwanted attention withing Shantytown. A discerning eye would see the quality, but only if they looked closely.  Vasati gave them no time to look, stepping quickly into his beloved alleyway and across three neighborhoods until he hit one of the main streets.

Only then did he step out into the light, addressing the denizens of Shantytown in the manner to which they were most accustomed.  He caught no strange looks, no double takes, despite his eccentricities.  Even approaching a number of the more talkative common folk with a handful of questions.  Strangely, all seemed only too happy to answer his questions, which all centered around if there had been any recent collapses of buildings that entailed a significant loss of life.
This message was last edited by the player at 05:54, Fri 19 June 2020.

You are able to find the tale eventually, though it takes some time.

The collapsed buildings are in a poorer section of the inner city, inside the walls where they stack buildings.

Once he had what he was looking for, he wasted no time getting there.  The alleyways took him into their embrace, leading him on a path well away from prying eyes, where none could follow.  The closely stacked buildings would serve him well, with many nooks and alcoves for the citizenry of the city to emerge from unexpectedly.  Despite all his bluster and bravado, he was not intending to create a scene here.  He had a need, and the city would provide.

Thus it was that he found his way to the aftermath of the collapse, and surveyed what awaited him.

Limbfisher's Pier

People died. Accidents happened. On ship and loading cargo, these accidents happened a lot, leading to a frequent need for medical aid for sailors and longshoremen. It could take vital hours to get inside the walls and get to a hospital, so a few medical piers had been established, where sawbones practiced their very literally minded trades.

Amputations were depressingly common. On one famous occasion, a bad accident that required multiple amputations and had left many dead bodies had resulted in a cart of the dead and mangled limbs spilling directly into the harbor, and they'd been fishing limbs out of the harbor for weeks.

There were a number of doctors and barbers that practiced medicine on the docks, but Limbfisher's pier contained the emergency services that dealt with true disasters and long term care for sailors beached due to injuries. The pier smelled of primitive antiseptics and pungent herbs, and the doctors frequently wore plague masks, as the sailors were known to occasionally carry advanced illnesses if the medical treatment aboard ship had been lackluster.

Plaga was ignored as she entered: it seemed there had been an emergency. Specifically, a crane had broke, utterly crushing one longshoreman and the leg of another, and the whipping rope and fleeing longshoreman had lead to a number of broken bones and near drownings.

The most senior marked of the doctors, was in the midst of preparing a man for amputation while other doctors were working with the less serious cases, patching and cleaning wounds or setting bones. He looked sevearal social classes higher than most others in shantytown, and wore actual glasses. He worked swiftly and looked a little busy.

A priest was administering last rites to a dead man who'd been fished from the harbor.

Plaga could not help but notice the lack of pain medication.

The place was not quite a pig sty: efforts had been made to keep the place minimally clean, and the doctors and nurses seemed to know what they were doing, but it was an extremely no thrills service: the linens were extremely course, and there didn't sem to be any magical healing or clockwork augmentation involved. From the screams of the man about to have what was left on his leg removed, there wasn't anasetetic or drugs, either. At least the place was clean.

Plaga would ask around for directions, and head to Dr Brokenblade's clinic. With any luck, she would get to see the doctor's work for herself. If he found him working on a patient, she would not keep the patient alive with her abilities, as she wanted to see what the good doctor could do with his own skill.

They checked to ensure that the man was lashed to the bed as tightly as permitted, and that the man's teeth were firmly planted on a bite stick, and then the doctor began to operate.

The doctor's hands are deft as he brings down the blade, and then goes to work with the hacksaw. The scream fades into incoherence as the man mercifully faints, and defter still when he and his assistant quickly finish the cut. The bleeding is quickly controlled with a small hot iron, and then the wound is washed with boiling wine. The man works with deft practice, despite the gloves and mask he's wearing.

"Check the spine and abdomen for contusions or the marks internal bleednig." The doctor said as he put his gory blade asside. He looked over the man's color and felt his clammy skin. "This man's humours are dangerously out of balance. Bring the salt solution immediately, and extra blankets.... but he is breathing at least."

A very odd rack was brought out with some kind of metal vessel on the top. A rubber tube ran from the thing down to a bronze syringe. It was checked carefully by both nurse and doctor before the man's arm was wiped and then the syringe carefully entered.

The doctor swore "no, try again" and there was a bit of bleeding. After a moment, the thing settled. The nurse stared at some instrumentation on the rack, and a mechanical clockwork whirr began. "It's running, standard flow.".

Nurses checked the man's pulse and breathing and recorded them on a small slate, occasionally glancing back at a mechanical clock to record the exact time. From

Plaga's observation of heartrates and breathing, the man would probably live if he didn't have any other obvious injuries at least for a few days. It was pretty good work, considering that this was the sort of injury that practically demanded low magic to stabilize.

The doctor and nurse checked him for other injuries but quickly confirmed that the bruising on the man was just bruising, and not some hideous internal injury. Finally, the doctor's worktools were placed in a bucket of coals by a small fireplace. It looked like someone had placed some kind of tile over the wooden floor so that there wouldn't be a fire hazard. The stones had a light reddish tinge.

By the time that was done, the nurse reported that the man's breathing and pulse was returning to normal, and that he was no longer pale and clammy. The doctor nodded, and stepped away from his patient to clean up, finally noticing plaga.

"Thank you for waiting... ma'am." He tried but could not identify her. "I'm Dr. Brokenblade. May we please speak outside? I need some air and this patient should avoid contact with anyone who's not their doctor." He really hoped she wasn't there for treatment for some infectious disease.. though given her attire, that seemed unlikely.

He did sound a little shaky after that, though from Plaga's judgment he'd done a good job. Amputations were not a pleasant business, of course.
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:32, Sun 21 June 2020.

"Of course, let's talk outside"

Plaga followed the doctor outside, pleased with the work she had seen him perform.

"Allow me to introduce myself. I'm the recently apointed Signora Plaga. As a newcomer to the city, I was seeking to make myself an acquaintance of those that I deem could benefit my work, and could in turn get benefited by my own. I came today to you to see your skills first hand, Dr Brokenblade, and I must say I believe you to be an excellent professional. As such, I would like to know if you would be willing to hear my proposal to improve the quality of life of those that leave at the edge of civilization."

Brokenblade, finally free of the thick leathers and mask with pungent herbs, took a deep breath of the salt-sprayed air, and a sizable drink of cold tea.

He was a younger-looking fellow, probably not in his 4th decade, though he did have a few scars more commonly wore by duelists, and seemed in better shape than most academics. He took his pulse and took a few deep breaths before giving Plaga his full attention, and a brief bow.

"A pleasure to meet you, Signora Plaga. I'm always interested in improving quality of care here.

Though I must warn you, we don't have a lot of available funds for advanced care. We were fortunate enough to get the fluid transfusion machine.

I may have to run in to fix something in a hurry if more patients come in or an existing one worsens, but I'd be happy to hear you out."

"Well, for starters, I'd like to be clear that I don't plan to change your work etiquette. You may continue to choose what patients to treat, and how to treat them. I could always offer my knowledge if you need a consult, but otherwise the clinic will keep being yours to run. However, it is my intention to improve the conditions of the people outside the walls, and for that it will be important to have more doctors taking care of those in need. I would also donate funds for new equipment and medicine to be acquired. Initially, I was thinking this sum could get things started."

There and then, Plaga offers Brokenblade 1 wealth, from the 2 she got from Falchetto.

"All I ask in return is that when asked, you reveal that I am your benefactor. If you are willing to take my money, I'm willing to keep supplying you with the resources you need to properly treat the people."

Brokenblade smiles. "It's good that people are taking an interest in this sort of thing. There are few patrons around here with coin and interest.

The captains, Lorenzi and guilds send some money our way when sailors or dock workers are injured. However, we have to turn away too many of shantytown's inhabitants. There are a few non-sanctioned practices in shantytown itself, but what little medical care available is truly dire.

Licenses are not enforced in the city. Sometimes, this is good, as it gives the talented a place to practice. However, it does lead to conmen, quackery and lunatics posing as physicians, herbalists and "healers".

We save a little for truly dire cases, and sometimes they save enough to see us, but as you can see, we have little room for charity.

I of course will be happy to add you to our list of Patrons, Signora Plaga.

I am afraid that I am rather unaware of your position. Are you a citizen of this city? Do you own a shipping concern? Have you joined one of the familes or guilds?"

"For now, I'm just a newcomer. I bring with me changing winds, and I fear the city will have to adapt to me and those that came with me, and not the other way around. I plan to stand on my own, but I'll always offer a reaching hand to those that seek an alliance.

As for those defiling the sacred practice of healers, I wouldn't worry about them for much longer. Shanty Town will be a place where people should not be afraid to die on the streets. Those that wish to take advantage of those desperately in need will be slowly purged. It is my belief that money follows work, and work follows health. The city just needs an outsider to break the cycle of poverty. For now, spend my money wisely, and prepare for the new times."

He thanks you again.

(OOC- This will further cement your position as a new patron of Shantytown.)

This message was deleted by the player at 01:23, Tue 23 June 2020.