Frack turned toward the bugbear, surprised that he would be picked from the crowd. And while he recognized that most players of 3-card were shucksters, the goblin sensed something above board with this one. Not to mention he recognized Frack as an honest fellow. And also not to mention he was still blushing from his talk with the swashbuckling Vera and welcomed the distraction. And finally not to mention the emerald ring on his hand was tracing a hypnotic pattern in front of Frack's eyes.

He cleared his throat and stood as proudly as his continuously slumped shoulders would allow. "Why yes. I am an honest citizen. I have pledged myself to the Path."

He dug through his backpack and eventually pulled out a silver coin. "I will try your game, but be warned: I have a very quick eye."

The bugbear laughed good-naturedly. "Oh ho, I shall keep my wits about me, then, good sir! And honest as well, paying up front. Such traits are rare these days," he said with a pointed look at Kreo. "OK now, let's see what's quicker, your eye or my hands. Round and round the dragon flies. Can you guess where her treasure lies?"

Frack, you believe you were able to keep a close eye on the dragon card the entire time and are quite confident it's the leftmost of the three.

Vecaal, you had a harder time following everything the bugbear was doing, but even with the help of your psionic ability, you did not detect any trickery afoot.

Frack had to stand on a small step stool to see the top of the barrel. Fortunately, one had been placed there as if just for him... or possibly one of the hundreds of gnomes milling about the area at all times. He adjusted his helmet as the bugbear began to slide the cards back and forth in front of him. It was all he could do to not be distracted by the emerald ring as it flashed over the cards during the process. His tongue slid out the side of his mouth in concentration.

When Ghargorr stopped, Frack pointed quickly at the leftmost card. "That one!" he announced. Immediately afterward, however, he worried that he may be showing up the poor bugbear. He hoped he wouldn't be too embarrassed.

The bugbear's eager smile turned to a sympathetic frown. "I am afraid not, good sir." His left hand pocketed the goblin's silver coin as his right revealed Frack's chosen card, which bore the image of a ferocious-looking automaton.

"But worry not! I believe in second chances. I'm not one to take a man's money and not give him a fair shake at getting it back." He shot another evil look at Kreo. "How about a gold this time? Win your money back and then some?" He began shuffling and rearranging the cards as he waited for Frack to produce the coin.

The train was arriving; the line would move soon. There was just time enough for one final game, if Frack (or anyone else) was so inclined.

Frack stood dumbfounded, his eyes chasing back and forth between the card and the bugbear. His mouth opened, but he said nothing, silenced by a combination of confusion and embarrassment. Without a word, he shook his head against the bugbear's offer and stepped down from the stool. He considered how much trash he'd need to sell to the Buyer to earn a silver piece. It meant a good day's work. But for now, more pressing matters were at hand.

Procz stood behind and to the side of Frack as he played, then moving aside and giving an appreciative nod when the goblin stepped back. "Probably an erudite decision, my friend. It is apparent that the dealer uses misdirection, quick hand movements, and psychological manipulation to make it difficult to follow the actual location of the target card."

The kobold gave a small cough. "Since the dealer controls the shuffle, they can manipulate the outcome. The observer would understand that even if they think they've tracked the target card, the practiced dealer can easily switch it at the last moment before the reveal."

"In fact," Procz gave a half-smile. "By eliminating the card you would think it was by observation (which it surely isn't), you will have increased your chances from a third to a half. You should then put your finger on one of the other two at random, to ensure it can't be switched."

He took a deep breath and leaned on his cane. "Of course, considering possible magical manipulation, the chances of winning diminish substantially. We have confiscated decks with shifting surfaces. Anyway, our lesson in life is clear: Always be the dealer, if you can. Not the player."

"Too bad, friend. Perhaps tomorrow." The bugbear looked relieved to have won his silver back before the line moved, delivering a fresh round of customers to his booth.

The train through the mountain could be a jarring experience for the uninitiated. A strip of steel ran the length of the ceiling of each car, glowing the with the magic of a Light spell. This illuminated the interior, making it difficult to see out through the glass windows into the tunnel beyond. Which was presumably be design, because the thought of so much rock above one's head - and so little supporting it - could unsettle the boldest hero should they think on it for too long. Even though the party had recently explored such tunnels on foot, the added artifice of (and noise) of the train rattling along its rails enhanced the surreality and the lack of control. Most of the passengers were experienced commuters, but a few tapped feet, wiggled fingers, and glanced around anxiously, eager to emerge from the tunnel.

When at last they did emerge, it was into the stifling caldera, where the air was, though not as bad as the Owl's End factory, noticeably hotter, louder, more humid, and more acrid than the Slopes. The sounds of machinery were diminished only slightly at night, and the atmosphere was made more hectic by the rush of workers off the train, some hurrying not to be late for a shift, others shuffling with the  weary resolution of the damned. Those latter were either early who had lost the will to care whether they lost their jobs.

Once again the party was able to hide themselves in the sea of humanoidanity, breaking off from the ever-dwindling swarm only at the end of the road, where Veracity led the way through some brush to a secluded spot on the banks of the lake. There was no immediate sign of a boat, nor of the genasi who was to meet them here.

The smuggler, a fire genasi like Amara, had given their name as Flicker, though the use of aliases for such business was to be expected. Their instruction had been to meet them at this precise time and place; of that, Veracity had no doubt.

Vera: What did you offer Flicker in exchange for use of their boat? And did you pay up front?

Frack listened intently to Procz's lecture on the inner workings of the game he just lost. He nodded repeatedly, although a great deal of the kobold's explanation sailed far overhead. Still, he liked the idea that he and Procz were having an intellectual conversation, even if he didn't understand most of it. It helped ease the pain of that lost silver piece.

By the time they reached the caldera, the lost coin had slipped his mind entirely, leaving space for questions like what's that awful smell? and isn't there supposed to be a boat?
This message was last edited by the player at 23:18, Thu 31 Aug 2023.

Veracity crooned delightedly, "An innovation not only of style, but also in the art of fowl-proofing defenses.  Magnificent, and perfectly befitting Sir Frack."  The tiefling couldn't help but recognize the little hero's bashful demeanor when speaking with her, and had a fair notion as to the cause.  She listened with amiable patience as Frack struggled to formulate a compliment in return, and the effort was terribly endearing.  Once he managed it Vera smiled brightly, "Thanks!"  She then slipped seamlessly into the jaunty brogue heard crying across the caldera waterfronts and ship-decks, "'Tis a bespoke tricorn, matey, fitted to the particular curl o' me horns!"  She tipped the brim and took a showy bow, then broke character for a raucous chuckle.

The rigged three-card game proceeded entirely as expected, and Veracity listened to Procz's detailed analysis of the con.  With a smirk, she said, "You're a sharp one, Constable, no denying it.  If the Bureau gave the respect you deserve the business of scoundreling in the Slopes would surely be in shambles."

At last the transvolcanic train arrived, and Veracity bustled aboard with the crew and the crowds for a treacherous subterranean journey that was routine for Coglinton's working class.  Upon arrival they left the stifling heat and noise of a crowded train car into the yet more hot and noisy caldera.  She beckoned the crew to join the flow of workers down toward the end of the road before slipping off the well-trod route onto a secluded path to the lake shore.  "Everybody still with us?  Very good.  Right this way!"  This little voyage had been no simple thing to arrange, and Amara just about had her head when brought in to sign on the negotiated terms.  An exclusive contract for the Spark's next five smuggling operations, with a cut of profits on the back end.  Guaranteed work was a prize in itself in this economy, and a transporter taking a percentage was all but unheard of.  This particular job was paid all up front, and it cost a pretty pile of gold!

Vera paused near the shore of the steaming, polluted caldera lake and scanned the surroundings with a flinty amethyst gaze.  She assured the others, "He's here, not to worry."  The tiefling then brought fingers to her lips and produced a long, warbling trill that carried across the shore.  It was the evening call of the sulfur pseudodragon, a pest that nested in the eaves of buildings within a flight's distance of the water.  She repeated the call twice more, which was the agreed upon signal to Flicker that all was well and it was time to move.

---

Persuasion for the prior negotiation with Flicker:

• 15:22, Today: Veracity rolled 22 using 1d20+8.  Persuasion.

Kreo produced a silver as they boarded the train, reaching over to offer it to Frack in an upheld palm.

"I'd be more concerned about that bugbear marking us for far less savoury purposes. Such games in my home were used as ways to observe, to ambush. The goblinfolk of the autumn courts play pranks and take things. Then again, we did it to them too!"

The satyr produced a small palette and checked his reflection in the light-washed windows, touching up his lip and brows for this meeting with the three criminals' contact. Noticing a smudge in his eyeshadow from Bryseis' less than careful hand, he produced a matching smudge on the other side to even out his appearance.

At Veracity's whistle, a figure appeared as if stepping through a rip in the air itself. It was hard to imagine how they could have hidden in plain sight, because while their body was largely wrapped in dark cloth, any skin that was not covered glowed like the embers of dormant flame. Now that the party could see their contact, it was hard to look anywhere else.

"Everything is ready for you," The genasi said without a smile. Their dark eyes assessed the five others beside the tiefling and apparently found them acceptable. "Best not to dawdle."

The means by which they had concealed themselves became apparent as they drew back a fabric whose surface matched exactly the texture of the dark, smoky night sky and, where necessary, the lake beneath it. When the cloth was removed, a small ship, bobbing with the slight current, stood tethered to a stake in the rocky ground. It had a single mast, sails furled, and four oars stationed beside two bench seats.

The genasi slid open a panel near the bow of the ship to reveal a small cargo hold - this was a smuggler's ship. "Two of you will have to sit in here," they explained. "Hope you weren't planning on bringing anything back with you."

The implication was clear: Veracity had not offered Flicker a cut of any smuggled items, and so no items would be smuggled.

Does anyone have proficiency with sea vehicles? Or, failing that, with land vehicles?

Vecaal wasn't used to being crammed into a crowd.  His size and appearance usually created a cushion of space around him, lending him some greater sense of freedom even when walking the busy streets and alleyways of the slopes.  But there was no such luxury on the tram, much to his discomfort and those reluctantly forced to stand right next to him.  The Dragonborn kept one clawed hand braced against the wall and his eyes focused on a particular rust patch at the far end of the car, to distract himself from all the other unpleasantries.

When the rattly bucket of bolts finally came to a halt he muscled his way out quickly and stretch his arms out while taking a deep breath.  He regained his composure and let his tongue taste the reassuring sulfurous taint in the air of the caldera.  That's better, he thought.  Smells like...dragons.

Waiting at the shore with the rest, Vecaal hissed in annoyance when the smuggler suddenly appeared right before them.  He wasn't pleased with himself, letting someone sneak up so closely without noticing, but he supposed that bode well for the genasi's talents.  Better on their side than not, he figured.  He approached the ship and stared at the cargo hold dubiously.  "You won't get me in there," he said, not only referring to his size.  He'd just escaped one tight fit, he wasn't interested in another just yet. "Maybe our two upstanding citizens would be a better fit?"

Whatever the case may be for the big folk felt upon the tram, it was indisputably worse and more congested at knee height. For a city divided and governed by gnomes, there was precious little accommodation for the working wee folk. Baern spent much of the journey forcibly reminding people of his presence by 'accidently' treading upon their toes and driving his elbows into their shins until the general mood of the compartment turned surly and he'd built something of a comfortable buffer about himself - a buffer he tacitly allowed Frack and Procz inside by virtue of shared privation.

He eyed the watercraft dubiously and wordlessly grunted at Vecaal's suggestion. Even where there were navigable bodies of water in the deep mines the routes were plied by pole barges and the occasional steam engine. There was no wind to speak of.

Baern has proficiency with land vehicles.

Frack instinctively reached out for the silver piece as Kreo presented it. He stopped just before grabbing it, however, telling himself that the noble thing to do would be to politely decline. Rom would never accept something like this. He would say, 'Tyr smiles upon your generous offer, but the Path I follow is paved with no charity.' Then he would bow slightly and turn away.

By the time he was done considering this, he had already picked the silver piece from satyr's hand and was clutching it in his own. Afraid to appear disrespectful by returning it, the goblin crinkled his face in an apologetic smile and slipped the coin into his pouch.

Once Flicker showed them the boat and the tiny storage compartment in its bow, Frack graciously volunteered to crawl in. He was no friend of the seas and hoped that being unable to see them might make the trek a little easier.

The air over the lake was cooler and clearer than that which hovered over the factory district. You could close your eyes and imagine yourself on The Slopes, where only the occasional whiff of sulfur reminded you what the city was for and why you were allowed to live in it - or on its outskirts, anyway.

The lake did not have much tide or current to it, so the ship was easy to steer, and with eight strong arms rowing, there was no need to attract undue attention by raising the sail. Baern's steady hand, made more skillful by Veracity's magic, guided the little boat without incident to the island Ilga had indicated.

Abandoned factories in various states of decay stood on many of the lake's little islands, relics of Sprazzle Cognelius's initial optimism about the caldera's potential for total industrialization. In the end, the logistics of shipping workers and goods out to the islands and finished products back to the mainland proved too costly and the elder gnome took a rare loss on an investment.

His loss had apparently been the Descendants' gain, for an abandoned factory made an excellent hideout for a conniving cult. Bushes, weeds, and fragile trees choked the island, affording only glimpses of the building's remains. There was ample space to stow ships away from prying eyes, though Ilga had suggested one rocky bay in particular for the party to seek out. And if the half-orc was to be believed, the interior of the crumbling factory was vast enough to hide a mechanical dragon.

The party left the boat moored to a tree and bobbing in the shallow water lest they need to beat a hasty retreat. Moving inland, they spotted several similar vessels that had been dragged ashore, suggested a busy meeting at the cult's headquarters. There did not appear to be anyone actively guarding these ships.

Nor was anyone actively guarding the factory's main entrance, a grand archway once filled with imposing iron doors. Only one door still stood, hanging at a slight angle that suggested a failing hinge. The other door was unaccounted for, leaving the factory's dark interior open to the elements.

Just as Ilga had indicated, there were many other ways to enter the faculty: holes all around its perimeter, broken out windows, and an all-but-collapsed roof.

Pausing here, while you're still two hundred feet or so from the factory. If you want to get a closer look at anything, please include a Stealth check along with your Perception check (if you're trying to be stealthy).

The skiff cut across the glassy water like a ploughshare, sending ripples out in its wake. Baern kept a steady hand on the till and a sharp watch on the rocks, but after a brief spell of nerves he relaxed into the role with suitable aplomb. A snatch of music even rose from his miner's heart unbidden to his tongue, first as a wordless hum and then a soft chorus setting the tempo.

...come get your chits in order 'cause the shift is nearly over,
swing away, me ladies, swing away.
Come get your chits in order, then we drink until tomorro'
swing away, me ladies, all swing away....

As he eased into the cove and tied off in shallow water, Baern leapt the gunwale and splashed down onto the beach. "Not bad, that. Might've made a decent skipper."

Bending low he scooped a handful of black volcanic sand from the beach and let it run between his fingers, feeling the grain between fingers and thumb. As the sand fell back to the earth, any hint of color upon Baern's garments seemed to leach away with it.

"Could do with them whispers again, Vecaal," he said quietly.

Svirfneblin Camouflage. Baern has advantage on his next stealth check.

14:16, Today: Baern Snagglehorn rolled 23 using 2d20+4, dropping the lowest dice only.  Stealth.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:18, Thu 14 Sept 2023.

When the boat finally landed on shore, Frack crawled out from the bow of the ship even greener skinned than usual. Even with the fairly calm approach, the goblin had been unnerved by the bobbing of the boat on their journey.

With a sigh of relief to be back on solid ground, he surveyed the ruins before them. "I could sneak in for a closer look," he suggested. "I'm a lot quieter with my new armor!"

OOC: Frack no longer rolls with disadvantage now that he abandoned his chain mail. With that said, his perception isn't great. In fact, it's less than average. So he might not see much, but at least he probably wouldn't get caught not seeing much.

Kreo hummed along with Baern's song and tapped his fingers as they moved across the distance, disembarking and stopping to the help the others out of the craft

"That sounds like a brilliant idea Sir. A brilliant one. Perhaps a little help for anyone who feels unsure?"

OOC: Stealth 18, Perception 10, guidance up for grabs to the first person what claims it

As they crouched in the brush and scouted for entrances tot he run-down factory, Vecaal ruled out the front door (too obvious) and the roof (too risky).  That left a few broken sections of wall that would serve, if they could sneak up effectively.  He wasn't worried about himself, but felt less confident about the newcomers.  At least they were small enough to better use the brush for cover.

He nodded to Baern.  "Right, same as before," he said, including Vera.  After managing that he spoke aloud again, pointing to a spot that looked big enough to let them all access the interior.

"What about over there, that break in the wall?"

OOC:
Whispers established with Baern and Vera for 3 hours.  Sorry to the rest, but two others is my maximum for now.

When the party disembarked from the smuggler's boat, Veracity tipped her tricorn to the captain, "Always a joy to bask in your glowing personality, my friend.  We'll be back in a jiffy."  Flicker was a dour sort, but he got the job done no questions asked, and that's what's important in this business.

Vera eyed the desolate island with suspicious curiosity as they crept through the brush toward the factory ruins.  Quietly, she remarked, "Old Sprazzle's ill-advised venture, now a tumbledown home to dragon-worshipping crackpots.  There's poetry in that."  Vera was concerned by the multiple vessels dragged ashore without a single guard or lookout anywhere.  Incompetence could explain it, but she didn't any of the other possibilities that came to mind.

Peering out of the underbrush, Vera agreed with Vecaal, "Right.  The hole in the wall strikes me as the most sensible path for sneaking."  Glancing down at the chicken-wired goblin, the tiefling encouraged, "Show us how it's done, Sir Frack!  We'll be right along behind."

Keeping low, Veracity slunk toward the broken wall in a low stance and took cover on one side of the crack, then took a peek at what lay within.  If all seemed clear, she'd venture onward toward the next piece of cover until they'd either spotted somebody or reached a decision point.

---

00:27, Today: Veracity rolled 16 using 1d20+5.  Stealth.

Peering through one of the many holes in the factory wall, the party saw that the inside of the factory was as Ilga had described it: The ceiling had largely collapsed, and what remained of the machinery was rusted and overgrown. The clockwork dragon loomed over the factory floor, so large that its head nearly protruded through the crumbling ceiling.

Faint voices could be heard from, presumably, the engine room below. The half-orc said there could be as many as thirty cultists gathered there, though the boats they'd seen on the way in suggested it was closer to twenty. The dragon appeared to be powered down, and no one moved on the darkened factory floor, which seemed at first to be empty.

But as their eyes adjusted to the darkness, they noticed two bodies lying on the ground near the main entrance. Neither moved. From this distance, it could not be seen whether they were sleeping or unconscious or dead.

With Vera's encouraging words puffing the sails of his confidence, Frack stepped deftly toward the building, stirring nary a stone. Once there his jaw dropped at the sight of the enormous (and thankfully dormant) dragon.

Upon seeing the prone figures,  he gasped. "Look there," he whispered."Are those two sleeping... or..." He cut his question short, unnerved by the possibilities. Then, after a moment's thought, he started for the first of the hopefully sleeping pair.

22:54, Today: Frack rolled 22 using 1d20+6.  Stealthily stealthing toward the hole in the wall.

Frack intends to check on the well being of the figures unless somebody tells him to hold up.

Kreo mumbled a prayer, touching his shield as a small light glowed on his hand

OOC: if we're within 30ft, spare the dying on the leftest of the two. Yay ranged grave cleric

Dead would be better, thought Vecaal.  But no job went easy the whole way.  There were always challenges.

Like the one Frack just initiated!  Rightfully or wrongly, Vecaal inherently assumed Frack was going to mess this up.  The little goblin was too righteous and too trusting for his own good, and theirs.  Cursing his rotten luck in the harsh tongue of dragons, Vecaal set out after the intrepid little warrior with the intent of protecting him and their mission both.

His exasperation and focus on Frack betrayed him though.  As soon as he stepped through the gap in the wall his foot came down on a loose piece of rubble, something that had seemed solid under the goblin's meagre weight but shifted immediately when confronted with Vecaal's bulk.  He stumbled, arms suddenly swinging wildly to maintain his balance, and staggered a few steps before finally regaining control.  He paused, his eyes darting around their surroundings, wondering if his shenanigans had attracted any attention.  With one last grumble he set off again after Frack.

OOC:
So much for my portrayal of a shadowy, competent bounty hunter!  The dice just aren't my friend in this game  :)
Rolled a total of 11 on Stealth, with an effective +8-13.  Sheesh.
14:28, Today: Vecaal Alifras rolled 8 using 1d20+7.  Stealth.
14:28, Today: Vecaal Alifras rolled 3 using 1d6.  Psi-bolstered Knack.

Baern stepped through the gap behind Vecaal but proceeded no further, waiting to see the results of Frack's investigation before following.

Reposting stealth check from before
14:16, Today: Baern Snagglehorn rolled 23 using 2d20+4, dropping the lowest dice only.  Stealth.