Book One: Punks in a Powder Keg

[Faux Flag]

1st Level | 0/1000 XP

Book One: Punks in a Powder Keg

Oathday, 28th of Gozran (IV), 4722 AR

 

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CASING THE JOINT
Chalia

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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.

 

 

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MEETING THE MANAGER
Kvikh and Glumworth

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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.

 

 

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GREASING WHEELS
Drewan and Morgrym

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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..."

[Lex Samreeth]

"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."

[farothel]

Chalia Chemaris, Elven fighter

Medium

Perception +6; low-light vision, darkvision

Str +4, Dex +1, Con +1, Int +2, Wis +1, Cha +0

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AC 18; Fort +6, Ref +6, Will +4

HP 17/17; Speed 30 ft.

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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.

[Davkas]

Kvikh Lawful Good Investigator 1 HP: 16/16 | AC: 16 | Perception: +6 Fort: +5 | Ref: +7 | Will: +6 ResourcesFILL ME | SpellsFILL ME | SkillsFILL ME

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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."

[AnemoneEnemy]

 

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

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"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.