Glumworth Cartwrong HP: 15/15 | AC: 16 | Perception: +4 Fort: +4 | Ref: +6 | Will: +6 ResourcesHalfling Luck - 1/day | SpellsFear Summon Fey L1: 2/2 | Skills Acrobatics +6 Crafting +7 Deception +4 Intimidation +4 Lore: Academia +7 Occultism +7 Society +7 Stealth +6 Thievery +6   "Yeeeeees," The Professor says, wiggling his fingers like a man preparing to dive into a plate full of delicious finger food. "Mugland isn't the forgiving type. Who knows? Something might open up. I'd feel better with someone like you handling my money than a woman like that." His face twitches. He isn't the forgiving type, either.          

Kvikh Lawful Good Investigator 1 HP: 16/16 | AC: 16 | Perception: +6 Fort: +5 | Ref: +7 | Will: +6 ResourcesFILL ME | SpellsFILL ME | SkillsFILL ME Kvikh's been keeping quiet behind Glum, since Byrin called to him first. Granted, their new informant seems so... preoccupied that Kvikh would be surprised if he noticed the ceiling collapsing on him. Apparently, though, the subject of work puts him on edge. Which doesn't surprise Kvikh much, the idea of working for Mugland would put him on edge, too... in fact, it did, which is what got him in this mess to begin with.   "See, we were thinking about investing in the bank, ourselves. I know we don't look like the type much, but we figured knowing the right people might give us an in." His lips twist a little in sympathy for Byrin's problems, though he's trying to keep his nose from wrinkling up at the reek. "But I don't know, now... Sounds like Dresh isn't the type to be kind to her friends, eh? Loyalty's a two-way street."   He leans on the edge of the table carefully, trying not to spill the remnants of Byrin's drinks - though he has to stand on the cracked stool to achieve that. He leans in and lowers his voice conspiratorially. "I have to wonder if there's a way to take her down a peg or two. Maybe if there was some kind of... problem on her watch, some room might open up, eh, higher up the ladder? For somebody who knows the meaning of loyalty."

Chalia Chemaris, Elven fighter Medium Perception +6; low-light vision, darkvision Str +4, Dex +1, Con +1, Int +2, Wis +1, Cha +0 AC 18; Fort +6, Ref +6, Will +4 HP 17/17; Speed 30 ft. Character sheet: https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2349956    Now she has seen everything she could without actually breaking in, Chalia returns to the inn to wait for the others and inform them of what she had seen.

"So...two more screwed over by Mugland, eh?" Drewan drops his voice to a conspiratory whisper. "Well, in truth, you're far from the only ones. But we have quite the offer on hand - we've been granted an opportunity to get a little revenge on him." Looking back and forth to make sure they're not being observed, Drewan pulls off his headwrap and raises his goggles, before that signature grin causes his eyes to squint in a manner that should be familiar to anyone who's ever done a bit of dirty business in Alkenstar.   "Yes, I know...there's a bounty on my head, but it's because of Mugland. He doesn't want my whiskers in his business, so he tried to cut me off before I could look too close. But everyone knows that the last thing anyone should tell an amurrun is not to do something. And now, myself and a few associates have been informed that one of his money-laundering banks is going understaffed tomorrow - with some of your uncle's modified 'Kirks standing guard."   "So...what do you say? Maybe you can get a bit of justice for Uncle Rost? Just give us the details on their programming, and maybe a few structural weak points...and we see about some of Mugland's filthy lucre suddenly vanishing."

1st Level | 0/1000 XP Book One: Punks in a Powder Keg Oathday, 28th of Gozran (IV), 4722 AR   CASING THE JOINT Chalia   One last survey of the bank confirms you'll be able to enter from the front, through the front door which is open during the daytime, or the back, via the locked employee entrance. The nature of the flanking structures prevents easy access to the bank rear from the front and vice versa; reaching the opposite end of the bank requires an approximately 10-minute round trip around the tightly packed crumbling buildings.    With that said, you are able to track the general passage of the lights emitted by the clockwork guards inside the bank. Although walls and doors block a thorough view of their regular routes through the interior, you can see enough to tell the bank is fully traversable from within. While you wouldn't be able to easily reach the rear of the bank from the front without circling the site's vicinity (were you to not enter the bank, that is), you believe you would be able to exit out of the back if you go through the bank, as long as you have some way of opening the locked employee door.     MEETING THE MANAGER Kvikh and Glumworth   Byrin, the drunk bank teller, pushes a shot glass across the rough surface of the tabletop towards you. As he knocks back another gulp of his own drink, you can clearly see the glass he so generously offered you is empty, one of many the man has already quaffed this night.   "You...you wanna speak with...Dresh?" Byrin slurs. He lolls his head backwards and laughs, a sound equal parts humour, sobbing, burping, and hiccupping. "The boss...the boss..." Byrin slaps his hand down against the rim of the table and grips it tightly. "You won't find the boss, not outside...outside busy hours. She's too tight wi' that...that...ah hells, whas 'is name...Mugland!"   The teller raises his mug once more in a drunk's salute. As he raises the drink to his bubble-coated lips, he pauses. Over the cup's edge, he squints and eyes the two of you—apparently accompanied by your duplicates swimming across his vision behind you—with a modicum of sober suspicion. His next speech is slurred but with demonstrably more control, however hard-fought, than his last. "Why'd you want to talk with the boss, anyway?" Byrin asks carefully. "I don't want you telling her anythin' about what I think. I shouldn't...I shouldn't be talking with you 'bout work."   However much the man has drunk and addled his senses, it's clear the subject of his work has put him on the alert. Simple questions are unlikely to grant you much more.     GREASING WHEELS Drewan and Morgrym   The gnome who spoke sidles up to Drewan as he pushes and prods one of the scrapped clockwork constructions. "These are no more than scrap now," she replies. The gnome winces as a joint separates from the elbow of the clockwork, bouncing against a pile of twisted metal underneath with a dull clang and coming to a stop on the filthy ground with a scuffing thud, but otherwise makes no attempt to intervene. "Of course, they're never much more than scrap even brand new, what with all their reliability issues, but the scumbags around here get through like bottles of cheap whiskey.   "Our uncle—he ran this place until a few months ago—he programmed the 'Kirks used in Mugland's bank, did you know?" the gnome continues. "He programmed them right down to the letter that Mugland asked for, even removing the safety padding from their fists to make sure anyone roughed up by his clockworks wouldn't ever forget it."   The gnome grits her teeth, a look of anguish suddenly tearing across her grimy features. A teardrop rolls over the bump of her cheekbone and leaves a trail of clean skin down her soot-covered cheek. "A good man, Uncle Rost was," she mumbles in between choked-down sobs. "He took me and Folla in and taught us all we know. When he did what Mugland wanted, it wasn't Uncle Rost who was paid—it was Folla and I, to 'be silent'. The next day, we found our uncle dead in a ditch, and full of holes.   "What I wouldn't give to get back at that piece of scum..."

  Glumworth Cartwrong HP: 15/15 | AC: 16 | Perception: +4 Fort: +4 | Ref: +6 | Will: +6 ResourcesHalfling Luck - 1/day | SpellsFear Summon Fey L1: 2/2 | Skills Acrobatics +6 Crafting +7 Deception +4 Intimidation +4 Lore: Academia +7 Occultism +7 Society +7 Stealth +6 Thievery +6   "Terrible," The Professor says in the tones of someone who doesn't think it terrible at all. He gives Kvikh a significant glance and a not-very-subtle gesture. "Why, I'm minded to let her hear it on your account, sir. I have some business to discuss with her and would love ever so to mention your loyalty. Skimming off the top, you say? And, ah, where might I find her at this hour?"          

Drewan immediately sets about doing what amurrun do best - poking their noses in places they don't belong. He starts looking very intently at the broken down Baalkirks, fiddling with their limbs and spinning loose wheels.   "Oooh...so many fiddly little bits. Oh, look! When I pull at this part, it punches, like those goofy little puppets they sell in the toy shops! Though this one isn't walking well...did something happen to it's legs? And where did this one's head go? And this poor thing's arms won't move at all! Does that happen often, or did the owner just ignore what the manufacturers said and try to make it lift something too heavy?"   He continues prattling on, all the while poking his fingers around in the derelict robots with the touch of somebody who very clearly has no idea what he's doing.    

Chalia Chemaris, Elven fighter Medium Perception +6; low-light vision, darkvision Str +4, Dex +1, Con +1, Int +2, Wis +1, Cha +0 AC 18; Fort +6, Ref +6, Will +4 HP 17/17; Speed 30 ft. Character sheet: https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2349956    Chalia did a last tour of the bank to check if there were other routes out of the bank, as she didn't like the long path from the back to where they could choose between different paths, before heading back to the inn to report what she had seen to the others.

1st Level | 0/1000 XP Book One: Punks in a Powder Keg Oathday, 28th of Gozran (IV), 4722 AR   CASING THE JOINT Chalia   The general abandonment of this area suggests there will be very few spectators and that a ruckus at the bank is unlikely to immediately draw the attention of shieldmarshals or other outside interlopers. The crumbling buildings flanking the Reserve are dilapidated and clearly uninhabited; anyone who is in the area will likely be within the bank. If (or, more likely, when) you cause a disturbance at the bank, it will be some time before the shieldmarshals or other officials are able to respond.   Unlike the old, solid stone walls that form the bank's structure, the entrance features new wooden doors that look to be a relatively new addition. At this time of night, the doors are closed and locked with a simple lock. This front door is the only entrance into the bank via the front.   When you go to explore the rear of the bank, you realise it is inaccessible from the front. The run-down ruins on either side press tightly against the bank's stone walls, blocking your passage. However, it takes no longer than ten minutes to walk back down the road and circle the site of the bank, passing through a dark and creaking alleyway that deposits you at the back of the Reserve. A sad-looking yard, overgrown with weeds and accumulating dried leaves, and walled off by a brick fence topped with barbed wire, stretches the width behind the bank. Dusty windows in the left and right corner of this side of the old temple look out over this pitiful garden and provide you with a view into two offices. Every now and then, the darkness inside is illuminated with the rotating light emanated from the heads of the clockwork guards, before snuffing out and returning to darkness.   A short, narrow passage runs alongside the western edge of the yard, leading back into the direction of the bank. The pathway terminates at a side door. A lopsided sign hanging from a rusty nail and daubed with scraggly, red writing reads Employees Only. Similar to the front door, this back door is a recent addition and secured with a simple lock.   There doesn't seem to be much in the way of obstacles you could use to slow down the chase of a pursuer. However, directly opposite the backyard is a door that leads to another passageway through more of the surrounding ruins. Above the crumbling roofs of the houses, you see the great towers of precariously stacked scrap and rubble that indicate the presence of the Wailing Scrapyard. The hazardous structures of waste and twisted metal look as though they would easily topple and provide the obstacle you are looking for cut off anyone chasing you when you make your escape.     MEETING THE MANAGER Kvikh and Glumworth   As you tour and explore the myriad sweaty dives and greasy spoons of Alkenstar's seedier side, the presence of the bank's manager continues to elude you. However, in a particularly grimy watering hole that stinks of lingering stale ale and ripe sweat, the manager's name reaches your ears. "That...that Dresh!" moans the voice. "That downrigh' scoundrel!"   The source of the complaining is a lone human man hunched over a lopsided, stained table. In front of him is a series of odd cups and mugs scattered over the table's surface, some with dribbles of drinks slowly vacating their containers to add to the table's sticky coating. The man is dressed in a cheap suit. His crumpled black jacket hangs open around a sweaty grey shirt and dark vest. The collar of his shirt hangs loosely, seemingly tugged at carelessly to give the wearer some air, and an untied cravat dangles around his neck.   "It's just...just not right!" the man continues, waving a clouded shot glass at nobody in particular (indeed, most of the bar's patrons are either glumly preoccupied with finding the bottom of their own drinks or give the rambling drunk a wide berth). "I've always been loyal! No one can say Byrin ain't loyal, nosir!" He slams his shot glass back, catching most of it in his mouth but sending a good amount splashing across his cheek and over his shoulder.   "You!" The drunken man throws his other arm up and extends a wobbly finger, pointing slightly past Glumworth's shoulder. "You look like a...like a hon...hon'ble man. Sit, sit!"   Byrin, as he seems to be named, gestures to the three-legged stools pushed underneath the table. One of the seats features a deep crack splitting its surface. "Tell me...tell me this, right?" he slurs through the bubbling drool beginning to coalesce on his lips. "I've always been loyal to that Dresh, always done her dirty business, never told the boss 'bout her skimming off the top. So I ask for a pro...promotion, an' whadda she do? Pass me up!   "That's just...it's jus' wrong, isn't it?"     GREASING WHEELS Drewan and Morgrym   In a dark corner of Alkenstar's soot-choked alleyways, the ghostly flickering of dim, gas-powered lanterns reveals the entrance to a small, cramped scrap shop. In a pile of twisted metal outside the slanting gap that acts as a doorway, your eyes catch sight of the yellow-painted brass of Baalkirk Model C-47s. They are clearly inactive, perhaps irreparably broken: rusted springs just from their joints, not a single of the clockworks has a full set of limbs, and the neck of one ends in a jagged, sharp stump.   The acrid sting of burning oil and gas permeates the air. Two female gnomes, dressed in oily leathers, smoked goggles, and identical in appearance, are hard at work disassembling one of the decommissioned clockworks. As you approach, they both look up. One whistle, a sharp sound that cuts through the steady chug chug of some engine or similar mechanism in the background. The same gnome pulls her set of goggles up to her forehead underneath a mess of spiked brown hair, revealing a strip of clean skin that outlines a pair of bright, sky-blue eyes. "That's a fine clanker you have there!" she says appreciatively, casting her appraising gaze over Cogsworth. "We usually just deal with 'Kirks around here but I know a special machine when I see one. How much do you want for it?"

Morgrym Bronzehall Dwarf Champion 1 HP: 20/20 | AC: 18 | Perception: +5, darkvision Fort: +7 | Ref: +5 | Will: +7 Skills: Acrobatics +3, Arcana +7, Crafting +7, Diplomacy +2, Lore (Brigh) +7, Lore (Engineering) +7, Medicine +5, Religion +5, Society +7, Stealth +3 As they walk amongst the grease, smoke, and mud, Morgrym turns to talk to Drewan. "Unfortunately for us, my works have always been in a much, umm, cleaner part of the city, so I don't have any familiarity with any workers or shops around here. I have no doubt together we can find us the right person to talk to though. And once we do, I am quite sure we can get the information we need in order to succeed tomorrow."   "Oh dear, it really is quite dirty here, though," Morgrym mutters to himself quietly. "I do miss the temple so much."

  Glumworth Cartwrong HP: 15/15 | AC: 16 | Perception: +4 Fort: +4 | Ref: +6 | Will: +6 ResourcesHalfling Luck - 1/day | SpellsFear Summon Fey L1: 2/2 | Skills Acrobatics +6 Crafting +7 Deception +4 Intimidation +4 Lore: Academia +7 Occultism +7 Society +7 Stealth +6 Thievery +6   "Very well. This is all falling into place."He pauses, and almost grudgingly decides to introduce himself, but then settles on, "Call me... The Professor." The moniker seems to irritate him, but he sticks with it anyway. 'The Professor' seems to find Alkenstar's dive bars very familiar. He checks his purse, and decides not to make it any lighter. He poses as someone the manager can help, someone who needs to move a sum of money out of a legitimate bank and into Mugworth's for... reasons. Very urgent reasons. He needs to speak to someone about it as soon as possible. Tonight would be best, in fact. Might the people who want him to stop aggravating their hangovers know where...?      

Chalia Chemaris, Elven fighter Medium Perception +6; low-light vision, darkvision Str +4, Dex +1, Con +1, Int +2, Wis +1, Cha +0 AC 18; Fort +6, Ref +6, Will +4 HP 17/17; Speed 30 ft. Character sheet: https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2349956    Chalia moved towards the bank and first did a tour around the building, checking it out with her eye for architecture.  Then she would walk the proposed escape route from the back door to get to know any obstacles and also scout out a few alternate rounds should there be unexpected issues.  She would also try to see if there were ways to throw obstacles into the path of anyone who would try to follow them, although the latter might depend more on what would be available the following day.

1st Level | 0/1000 XP Book One: Punks in a Powder Keg Oathday, 28th of Gozran (IV), 4722 AR   "One last thing. The take," Dunsmith adds, finishing off her drink. "I'll be having fifty percent, to cover the costs of setting this up and to fund the next part of our plan to take down Mugland. The other half is all yours to split."   The dwarf stands up to excuse herself from the table. Before she leaves, she looks back and offers one final nugget of advice. "Keep it simple, y'hear? Get in, get the gold, get out the back and lose anyone on your tail in the scrapyard. If you see a half-elf with blue‑black hair and death in her eyes, run. Loveless is a crack shot with a bad attitude—she don't miss and she don't leave witnesses. Pull it off and you’ll be back here sippin' whiskey with me and your shiny pile of money."   And with that, Dunsmith returns to the common room of her saloon and leaves you to your preparations.     CASING THE JOINT Chalia   The walk through the smog-choked streets of Smokeside from the Barrel & Bullet Saloon to the site of the bank takes a little over an hour. The stench of manure accentuates the aura of shabbiness in this part of Alkenstar. You spot little in the way of life; the area is a quiet neighbourhood where at least half the buildings are abandoned. In accord with the run-down district, the Gold Tank Reserve looms above like a starving behemoth. The bank was crafted from once-gleaming stone, though dust and dirt now cake the domed, slightly cracked glass roof.   A pathway carved from a stone slab leads from the wooden boardwalk to stone steps and an elevated porch, not unlike a small stage. Two small wings of the building flank the path, carved from more stone slabs and each with a weed-choked planter facing the street. Impressions of giant keys etched onto the walls on either side of the entryway lend the building an air of security and stability. Even in its clearly rundown state and neglect, the enduring skill of the historical artisans has allowed this former temple to bear the hardships of its current environment.   With night approaching, the inside of the bank is dark. It isn't empty, however, and you catch moving lights within. As you watch for a few minutes, three gold-coloured constructs can be occasionally seen. Mostly humanoid in shape and form, the head of each construct is dominated by a great lantern. The clockwork guards patrol the bank interior; they stop in various locations, open the shutter on their heads to reveal a beam of brilliant light, and then slowly rotate their heads in a complete circle before moving on.   Chalia, as part of your investigation into the immediate location of the bank, could you please make a Perception, Thievery, or other suitable Lore check.     MEETING THE MANAGER Kvikh and Glumworth   Alkenstar has no shortage of petty crooks and villains. As one of Mugland's cronies, the bank manager—Irkem Dresh—is certainly no saint. A brief chat with Dresh, and perhaps with the assistance of some percussive persuasion, may convince this criminal to see the error of their ways. With little else to go from than the bank manager's name, the best place to start is looking at the sites beloved by all of Alkenstar's lowlife: its dive bars.   This side of the city is crammed with rickety and grimy drinking holes that cater to all walks of life (but usually those more accustomed to staggering through life). In such establishments as the Old Codger, the Bawd's Hall, and the Tin Cup, dented copper pieces are exchanged for watery ale quaffed down the gullets of soot-covered faces. Sprawled bodies lay outside most tavern doors, either snoring into puddles of their own vomit or mewling pitifully after being beaten bloody for the little coin they have.   Kvikh and Glumworth, as you search for leads on the bank manager, could you please make a Diplomacy, Society, or other suitable Lore check.     GREASING WHEELS Drewan and Morgrym   If industry and innovation are the beating heart of Alkenstar, it is the ranks of tinkers and grease monkeys who pump smog-choked air into the city's wheezing lungs. For every brilliant invention that changes lives, countless other experiments end in failure and fire. The cramped, slanting shacks and rickety shops are home to the junkers and scavengers who make a living tinkering and trading in scrap.   Piles of twisted metal and discarded mechanisms mark the shop windows of Alkenstar's scrappers and waste-disposal teams like rusty monuments. Such a lifestyle attracts all types and shapes and sizes, but they are united in their greasy leather overalls, smoky goggles, oil-stained fingers, and burns on their skin. Eccentric and desperate alike rub soot-covered shoulders as they clang dull hammers against sheets of metal and forcefully wrench haphazard mechanical contraptions.   Drewan and Morgrym, to locate and make contact with a junker who knows and is willing to talk about Mugland's clockworks, could you please make a Diplomacy, Lore (Engineering), or other reasonably appropriate skill check.

Morgrym Bronzehall Dwarf Champion 1 HP: 20/20 | AC: 18 | Perception: +5, darkvision Fort: +7 | Ref: +5 | Will: +7 Skills: Acrobatics +3, Arcana +7, Crafting +7, Diplomacy +2, Lore (Brigh) +7, Lore (Engineering) +7, Medicine +5, Religion +5, Society +7, Stealth +3 "Well, I do think this plan is coming together quite well, even if we are on somewhat of a time crunch. Drewan and I shall seek out a mechanic and gather whatever information we may about these clockworks. Kvikh and Glumworth will visit the manager. And Chalia will case the bank to determine its layout, our exits, etc." Morgrym ticks off each finger on his hand as he looks one by one at his new associates around the table and recounts each of their respective duties. "Are there any objections? If not, we should get about our jobs quickly. We only have so much time to prepare."   Morgyrm turns back to Foebe Dunsmith. "Unless of course, you have anything else to add? Any more information or tips you think could prove useful to us before we take our leave for now?"

Kvikh Lawful Good Investigator 1 HP: 16/16 | AC: 16 | Perception: +6 Fort: +5 | Ref: +7 | Will: +6 ResourcesFILL ME | SpellsFILL ME | SkillsFILL ME Kvikh lays claim to one of the hats as well, and turns it over in his hands thoughtfully. On the one hand, that would solve any problems with him casing the bank from the inside; on the other, if he uses the hat for casing the bank, it means he doesn't have the disguise for when they actually hit the bank, and Chalia's plan sounds like a very good one. "I think that's a good plan - all the better ones I can think of would need more time than we've got. I'm a fair hand with locks under the right circumstances, but I'd want the time to study it first, so call that a backup plan if we don't have the benefit of the manager's keys."   He ponders for a moment where he'd fit best in their preparations. Flopper's quite capable of taking the measure of the mechanics on his own, and if one of them does slip a lie past him Morgrym may well be able to catch whether something doesn't make sense. "Do we need to hit the manager ahead of time, do you think? If we're playing the role of clients to get in the door, I should think we can just avail ourselves of his assistance then." Whether that assistance would be tricking him into opening the vault or simply relieving him of the keys is another question. "If you do go to lay hands on him, I'd like to come along."   Not that he doesn't think Glum's capable of tricking or scaring the keys out of the manager on his own... more that he's worried about the potential to raise a fuss in the process that blows her cover. Even in a group with plenty of reasons to hate Mugland, Kvikh's starting to think Glum has some anger issues.

Chalia Chemaris, Elven fighter Medium Perception +6; low-light vision, darkvision Str +4, Dex +1, Con +1, Int +2, Wis +1, Cha +0 AC 18; Fort +6, Ref +6, Will +4 HP 17/17; Speed 30 ft. Character sheet: https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2349956    "Sounds like a good plan," Chalia said, "you can go talk with those guys.  Maybe take Morgrym with you.  You do the talking, he brings the expertise on clockworks.  I'll do a walkaround the bank to check some extra routes just in case.  I've also some expertise in architecture, so I might learn something from actually looking at the building.  Say meet back here for dinner."

Drewan examines the hat with a good deal of interest, as that smug grin starts creeping across his face again.   "These should prove very useful. Might be a chance to pull one hell of a prank on old Carruth. Run off with the prettiest kitty in the Mana Wastes right after I bought her all that nice jewelry, will he?"   He spins the hat on his finger before popping it in his pack.   "Anyway, I'll go see if I can't milk a bit of information out of the Baalkirk mechanics. I know where they like to put up their feet and knock back a pint. As long as I keep my goggles and wraps on, there shouldn't be too much alarm from anyone. I'll figure out some of the details in typical amurrun fashion, along with a bit of help from Cayden Cailien, be he willing."

Morgrym Bronzehall Dwarf Inventor 1 HP: 20/20 | AC: 18 | Perception: +5, darkvision Fort: +7 | Ref: +5 | Will: +7 Skills: Acrobatics +3, Arcana +7, Crafting +7, Diplomacy +2, Lore (Brigh) +7, Lore (Engineering) +7, Medicine +5, Religion +5, Society +7, Stealth +3 "Yes, I agree, early morning seems the best time to me as well. Anything that might help keep down the risk of others being hurt is a good thing," Morgrym replied, nodding his head in agreement. He continued, "I don't know if I would be a great help extracting information from clockwork's mechanic, as social situations are not exactly my forte, but my familiarity with constructs and engineering in general should help us put to use whatever information we might be able to uncover."

Chalia Chemaris, Elven fighter Medium Perception +6; low-light vision, darkvision Str +4, Dex +1, Con +1, Int +2, Wis +1, Cha +0 AC 18; Fort +6, Ref +6, Will +4 HP 17/17; Speed 30 ft. Character sheet: https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2349956    "I think we might have the best chance of attack when we go in right before opening in the morning," Chalia suggested, "We can use those hats to pretend to be customers who want to come in a bit early.  If they are as greedy as we think they are, they might not object.  And if we go right before opening, there won't be any other people around who can be in the way... or worse, help the employees.  And the throng of people out in the morning can help shield us when we want to get away, especially if we take off our disguises.  That only leaves tonight for getting the extra information, but that should be possible if we concentrate on the important bits.  Mostly the clockworks and how they react.  We can also do a walk-by of the location, so we know alternate routes just in case."

  Glumworth Cartwrong HP: 15/15 | AC: 16 | Perception: +4 Fort: +4 | Ref: +6 | Will: +6 ResourcesHalfling Luck - 1/day | SpellsFear Summon Fey L1: 2/2 | Skills Acrobatics +6 Crafting +7 Deception +4 Intimidation +4 Lore: Academia +7 Occultism +7 Society +7 Stealth +6 Thievery +6 "A crony? I don't see the need to let them keep the keys. Or their teeth." He snorts, clearly wanting to seem disinterested, but there are wheels turning behind his eyes. "So. Keys, vault in the back, straightforward. Magic bag for the money, so dragging it away isn't an issue. Clockwork guards. All right then: first priorities--the clockworks and the bank manager. Any order. One of you lot can prance about dens and dives finding the mechanic, and I'll pay the manager a visit." He pauses for a moment, then adds, very grudgingly, "If the manager is uncooperative, we'll need to take them out of the action so they can't go running to Mugland, may his privates shrivel up and collapse in on themselves. Do you have somewhere to, uh, store them?"

1st Level | 0/1000 XP Book One: Punks in a Powder Keg Oathday, 28th of Gozran (IV), 4722 AR   "The vault should be open during business hours. The inside gate'll be locked, but the bank manager, a Mugland crony named Dresh, has the keys. If you go in the night, you'll have to crack both yourself," Dunsmith replies. "As for a man on the inside...you might have an easier job 'persuading' one of them if you can find one. I'd suggest crawling the bars. None of them can unlock the inside gate, but if you could get a key from one of the staff, you could even go in the back. There's an employee entrance in the alley that connects to the junkyard. That's also how you make your escape."   The dwarven woman tops up her drink, as well as the glass belonging to anyone else that is running low. "I don't know much about the clockworks," Dunsmith continues, lounging back in her seat, "but your idea about finding the grease monkey who works with Mugland's bots sounds a good one to me. They're probably the sort of slimeball who hangs around the various tinker and junk shops around town but any of you more accustomed to that life may know better than I."   Foebe Dunsmith then stands up and walks over to a small cupboard along the side of the private booth. She opens the wooden doors to reveal a hoard of various glass bottles of whiskeys and other spirits. Instead of picking one out, she unceremoniously pushes them to each side, clearing a space between the bottles to the back of the cupboard. You hear a click! and the dwarf pulls out a thin sheet of wood with a notch in one corner—a false back. Dunsmith reaches forward, slides a small box out, and carries it back over to the table you are seated around.   "Here's a few things you might be able to use," she explains, and begins emptying the contents onto the table. The first is a wide-bottomed, leather satchel crisscrossed with stitching seemingly at random. The pouch is followed by five identical objects: a collection of curled brimmed hats the colour of faded granite. "You can keep the pouch. Put all of the gold in it, otherwise it'll slow you down, you hear? If you can't open the box, slide the whole godsdarned thing in. The hats are better than any bandana or disguise. Put one on and you can change your face, hairdo, you name it. You can't change your height and build too much though, and it's only how you look on the surface, so don't go for anything that sticks out or things like that. They only work once a day, so don't go wasting them. Oh, and don't muss 'em up—I'll be wanting them back when you're done."   Dunsmith pulls a small, brass clock from her pocket. "You've got 16 hours by my watch 'fore the rest of the clockworks are back and up and running. That's the rest of this evening for any prep y'all want to do, then the early morning if you're going in before business hours or time to get some rest and crack them when they're open in the day. Make sure you're in and out before tomorrow afternoon though, or you'll have a small army of metal men to contend with.   "Now, do you fine, upstanding folks have any other questions before I go check if any of the drunks need a clubbing 'round the head?"

Kvikh Lawful Good Investigator 1 HP: 16/16 | AC: 16 | Perception: +6 Fort: +5 | Ref: +7 | Will: +6 ResourcesFILL ME | SpellsFILL ME | SkillsFILL ME Kvikh drums his fingers on the table as he considers the situation. This is going to take as much planning as they can possibly fit into the time they have. His words come out rapid-fire, trying to keep up with his thoughts. "I can case a joint well enough. Passing for an investor is a taller order unless someone has better clothes I can borrow, but just staying unrecognized is the easy part." Plenty of ysoki wear hoods all the time, after all - if he's hiding his face under his, a lot of people will probably not look too closely.   His lip curls a little. "A shootout wasn't exactly my first plan. Even aside from what my conscience thinks of the idea, it's not really practical." He cocks his head as the awkward-looking newcomer speaks up. "Manager could go either way. Either they're a toady, or you're right and they have a permanent overdose of Mugland. Worth checking out, though, yes - if we can swing it in the time we've got. Workers are a better source on the clockworks than the manufacturer, Mugland might adjust the parameters as well as take off the safeties."   He smiles again, grimly. "Got to be careful with those. I've no desire to get my block knocked off. Need that to think with, thank you."

"There is but one small problem with any plan of using me to reconnoiter the premises," The Flopper interjects. His smirk falters a bit as he flicks his ears, sending those tassels at the top swinging. "Even after factoring in the rareness of catfolk in Alkenstar, I have several well-known features that are difficult to conceal. Hence, why I wrapped myself up like a smokestack tender on the way here. I have significant doubts that I would be able to simultaneously pass myself off as a well-to-do investor or manufacturer and concealing enough parts of me that nobody immediately points a finger at me and calls for the Shieldmarshals. Especially if one of those Shieldmarshals is Loveless."   The Flopper frowns and knocks back his whiskey, coughing a bit as he feels the burn pass down his throat. He then nods at Glumworth, before rapidly bringing his hand down on his goggles, which had started to inch their way across the table.   "Obtaining details on the clockworks, on the other hand...that is something I'd likely be able to do. Do we have the names of anyone who works at the Gold Tank? Or locations where they prefer to wet their whistles after a long shift? I've no doubt I'd be able to tease out some sensitive information from them."

  Glumworth Cartwrong HP: 15/15 | AC: 16 | Perception: +4 Fort: +4 | Ref: +6 | Will: +6 ResourcesHalfling Luck - 1/day | SpellsFear Summon Fey L1: 2/2 | Skills Acrobatics +6 Crafting +7 Deception +4 Intimidation +4 Lore: Academia +7 Occultism +7 Society +7 Stealth +6 Thievery +6 "Sins! Who has the time?!"   The... gnomeling?... snorts. "Who's the manager? Doubt they like Ugly Mugland any more than anyone else, short of his favorite depraved sheep. Maybe we should pay them a visit in the night. Maybe the keys will go for a little stroll. Or maybe we can cut them in. Isn't there supposed to be an inside man for these things?" He pulls himself up into a stool with great effort, and drums his fingers on the bar top; one of the mugs uncurls its handle and taps along with him.   "Anyway. Clockworks run on instructions. Obviously. We need to know what those are. Very obviously. Boundaries! Tethers! Threat ranges! Which means we need to get them from the manufacturer, or... somewhere."

Chalia Chemaris, Elven fighter Medium Perception +6; low-light vision, darkvision Str +4, Dex +1, Con +1, Int +2, Wis +1, Cha +0 AC 18; Fort +6, Ref +6, Will +4 HP 17/17; Speed 30 ft. Character sheet: https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2349956    Chalia nodded, but kept quiet for now, letting the others ask questions.  She did make a mental note that they best do a recon of the building, both inside and outside to see other getaway routes.  For inside the most likely person to do so was Flopper, maybe with her or the dwarf as bodyguard.  The others could check the outside.  She really didn't like these kind of rush jobs, but sometimes there was no avoiding it and getting one up on Mugland would be a fun thing.