Bdib
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Post by Bdib on Feb 1, 2013 13:02:20 GMT -7
I stamp my feet against the cold. The predawn light makes the fog into the smoke of the whole world burning. My tongue almost betrays my impatience, but I school it to silence.
My companion is a short man with a graying mustache as sparse as the hair on his head. Abstalar had given me his name and where I could find him, and in doing so, tainted his opinion of me. A good sign, to be mistrusted by the good when it's evil you mean to deceive.
A hulking shape appears out of the curling wisps of fog, at first I mistake it for a bugbear or ogre, some kind of monstrous humanoid. As he gets closer he resolves into a man, but near seven feet tall and not even a little lanky. My companion speaks, "Gressel, this'n be the pitch I be rattlin' about"
Good, they think they're swindling me, not the other way around. And they don't think I speak the 'cant. Pitch in this case is short for "Pitch Dark", which is long for "Dark", which is replacing the word "mark".
"I am known as Ariela Zoita." I say, offering a hand to the man, fighting not to think of how that hand could crush mine. He takes it in an unexpectedly gentle grip, "Scarnetti's dog? What does he want with me?"
"As I'm sure you're aware, Mr. Scarnetti has... priorities in his plans here in Sandpoint. His Chelish values don't line up with our Varisian notions of truth, beauty and love." Gressel nods slowly, "And I suppose not with our Szcarni notions of gambling, drugs and prostitution either?"
"As I said, priorities. Now, Miss Tesarani's establishment might get a joke here and there about it around town, but it is an institution of the town in a way Scarnetti's lumber mill is not, especially considering that mess with his father all those years back. If he boldly tried to exert economic pressure to drive out the Pixie's Kitten, he'd be cast out, ignored, and laughed at, even if the town's economy collapsed without his business. Do you see his trouble?"
Gressel nodded, but his eyes showed he didn't comprehend, "What exactly does he want with me then?"
"Scarnetti needs a proxy, a local group to work through, and in exchange, can allow your gambling and thievery to go unbothered. In fact, you may see an increase in business without the competition. You can even go into the prostitution management business yourself, so long as you keep it well off main street and out of public attention."
"I suppose he'd want 'considerations' for this lapse in enforcement?" Gressel said suspiciously, I faked a high, tinkling laugh, "With the money going through this community from his mills, what you would be able to give as a bribe would be a drop of rain in the ocean. Keep your money, the removal of the Pixie's Kitten is worth more to Mr. Scarnetti." Drat, I was going to ask for SOME good faith money, but if he's that suspicious it could be a deal breaker.
"So what do you need ME to do?" Success, he was on the hook. "Simply put, I need you to do whatever I say. Whether that means declaring specific targets off-limits for thievery, spreading specific rumors, starting a big enough barfight to draw the Sheriff on a specific night, or drawing a meeting of the Szcarni. Each thing I request of you will be a part of my plan to further both our goals, but it won't always be obvious how, and I won't always be able to explain why it's necessary. I ask only that you trust that we're all on the same team."
"I'm not exactly the Grandfather of the Szcarni here, there is a little more decentralization of power here..." he says with a little hesitation and a little more annoyance.
"We are aware of the power structure of the area." I lie, I'll have to gather more information so I don't leave a faction unaccounted for.
"This all seems a little strange, how do I know you're not just leveraging for your own power?" he asks, apparently showing he isn't quite as stupid as I was beginning to believe. I spread my arms in a false gesture of total sincerity, "I cannot give you concrete evidence of this involvement, since if discovered, it'd lead back to Mr. Scarnetti. For the same reason, I have to ask you and all your agents to stay away from Mr. Scarnetti, since our involvement must remain secret. I will be our go-between, keeping both sides appraised of what the other needs. On that note, if something we ask of you impacts your bottom line, you need only let me know and I will reimburse you. Scarnetti has a great deal of money allocated to this project."
The big man mulls it over, clearly this is better than he could hope for, and his Varisian background should be telling him that things that are too good to be true, are. Still, he nods and says, "We look forward to doing business with Mr. Scarnetti"
I bow, "I thank you mister Tenniwar, and look forward to a beneficial relationship."
And with that, I turn and leave. The sun is almost up, almost time to report to Titus Scarnetti that I was approached by a local Szcarni with apparently Chelish values looking for an alliance, which would require them asking him to do things he wouldn't understand, and that he must trust that in the end, his goals would be served...
(This was going to be longer, but I've been struggling to get it out there for so long that I felt like I needed to cut it where I could. I'll probably expand with more stuff done in downtime relating to this plot)
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Bdib
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Post by Bdib on Apr 9, 2013 21:00:58 GMT -7
Chapter 1: Smoke on the Horizon
I duck out through the kitchen. The hour is late and the fire pits are cold. The inn's cat doesn't stir from her place on the windowsill as I pass through. Exactly the reaction I'm looking for in the whole of this evening. Morvius reacted to my dress with surprise for good reason. A strikingly black bit of lace clings desperately to my curves by the pressure of a red bodice which parts below the sternum to reveal my bare midriff. At the sides I sewed in a pair of silver rings to connect it with the repurposed acrobat's modesty briefs. Without the accompanying tights they were quite revealing. Their color was a little off, but I was sure the light would be muted enough that no one would take notice.
I thread my way through town by the alleys and backyards towards the center of town at a trot. Thankfully, my toes and calves are strong enough to endure the trip almost entirely on the balls of my feet. The shoes I wear wouldn't allow faster speeds any other way. I slow when I reach my destination. The portrait of the pixie riding a cat as a man might ride a horse hung still in the muggy air above the entrance, begging for a breeze as much as I am. It's here that my outfit will cease to catch anyone's attention and will instead become camouflage. I stroll confidently past the door guard, nodding my head to him as if in familiarity. His eyes pass over me in boredom as he examines the next patron for hidden weaponry. Good, wearing as little as I am, I'm not sure I could dance a blade past a physical patdown and call me paranoid, but I'm not going anywhere defenseless.
I gain the lobby, thick with smoke and perfume and sweat. The humid night was apparently taking its toll on the place tonight, but it wasn't going to slow the pace of business at all. Laughter jangled gently down from upstairs to mix with the tinny sound of a mechanical musicbox. My eyes are drawn unconsciously to a young man, reclining among a group of other similarly dressed men and women and wonder how I managed to be overdressed for this event. I also am thankful for my rouge, as the view of that boy was bringing color all my own to my face. Realizing if my eyes remained stuck, I would be taken for a customer and probably recognized as a Hero of Sandpoint. I continue into the complex.
It's not long before I can snag the elbow of another employee, this one holding a tray of empty champagne flutes, and inquire about where the mistress is. A direct path by her instructions takes me to a door. Another shoanti bouncer stands in the way, this one more attentively scanning the coming and going customers and prostitutes. I have no cover story that can talk my way into Kaye Tesarani's presence, so I give a silent apology to the innocent patron I'm about to screw over.
“Hey, stop it, jerk!” I execute a complicated dance move that makes it look like I've been violently shoved, without actually getting thrown anywhere. The drunken patron looks more confused than anything, and actually bends down to see what's wrong. I loop a lace around his outstretched hand and allow myself to fall the rest of the way to the ground, audibly tearing the length from my bustier, just as the bouncer's eye turns our way.
“Hey!” The bouncer approaches.
“Help, he's getting violent!” I play the victim, clutching top as if it'd been loosened by the superficial lace being pulled off.
“I... but...” is all the man can get out before the bouncer closes the rest of the way. Confusion merging with intoxication to make him unable to defend himself with words.
“That's it, you've had enough.” and the bouncer begins dragging him off. I lift the keys from the bouncer's belt on the off-chance I need them.
I knock on the door, and enter before I hear a response. Half-rising from a ledger was a beautiful middle aged woman in an elegant gown of the deepest green, red hair greying at the temples. She narrowed her eyes at the sight of me.
“You're not one of my girls.” And a hand crossbow appears in her hand. At this range, without armor, it could tear through me in the blink of an eye. “What are you doing here?”
“Relax, I'm a friend.” I spread my hands slowly. “A friend to everyone in Sandpoint in fact.”
A moment passes and the crossbow disappears as quickly as it appeared. “A Hero of Sandpoint, in my humble establishment? To what do I owe the honor? Perhaps a romp with one of my boys? I suppose one on the house wouldn't be out of the question...”
My thoughts return to the boy in the lobby, and I shake my head, both to communicate and to shake the temptation from my thoughts.
“No, milady... I'm here on business. We have much to discuss.”
She pauses to select a leaf from a wide variety of species, and places it with a bit protruding at the top of her ledger and closes the ponderous tome. She looks again at me with a new question, “If that is the case, why are you dressed like that?”
“My outfit is a disguise, to keep rumor of a Hero of Sandpoint associated with this place... the kind of rumor that would have legs... everyone likes to hear about racy things like this about celebrities. And as you might also know, I'm associated with Mister Scarnetti...”
“Do you want me to get the crossbow out again?” The question was asked with some degree of humor, but there was enough animosity to her voice that the threat of the words remained. Scarnetti is the thorn in this woman's boot.
“I want to avoid the rumors because I still need him to trust me. He's obsessed with shutting this place down, and assumes I share his goal because he's lined my pockets with gold and I let him call me his agent.”
“And I suppose you're not? You admit to laying down with an enemy, what reason do I have to trust you?” The elegant woman remained standing, so I took a seat opposite her desk, looking up at her through my eyelashes.
“I do what I do for my own reasons, and if gain mattered more than what was right, would I be a Hero of Sandpoint? Would I be the only one among the Heroes who refused reward?”
The green clad woman slowly took her seat, animosity fading slowly.
“So what did you come here to discuss... do you wish to undermine my enemy's plans, or simply have tea and chat about how you're not really involved with him?”
“I was going to suggest you convert this establishment to a temple of Calistria.” Kaye's face adopted a look of tired resignation, but I pressed on, making my case. “Even a mayor couldn't undermine the standing allowance of religious institution, and even Titus Scarnetti wouldn't be foolish enough to stab at a membership of the god of Revenge.”
“You suggest something I've heard from many of my advisors, and I'll tell you what I told them. I don't worship Calistria myself, nor do many of my boys and girls. To convert out of temporary convenience, and thereby change the core identity of the Pixie's Kitten would be to allow my enemies to force me to a position I don't want to be in... to retreat to someplace safe when all I see is smoke on the horizon.”
I smile, “Well then, I suppose we'll need to enact a more risky solution then. I didn't come to this battle with a single arrow in my quiver. Listen to my plan, and I'm sure you'll agree it'll work, if you merely trust me.”
And I began to describe a trap woven from the threads of greed and pride of the Szcarni and of Scarnetti. Kaye's eyes widen and as the story weaves on. A crystal of bourbon is produced along with two tumblers. “What you suggest... it may indeed work, but damn if I'll be putting a lot on the line...”
“It will work. I promise it will.”
“You don't need to sell me on it further, let us drink to our conspiracy, and may fortune favor the bold.” We knock back the finger of bourbon to seal our deal. I'm not used to such strong drink, and I gag a little. Hopefully, that isn't an ill omen in some far distant land.
(This is the first, and shortest of the chapters, a taste of the Fall of Scarnetti)
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Bdib
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Post by Bdib on Apr 11, 2013 12:40:20 GMT -7
Chapter 2: Bait
I breeze into the busy tavern, dressed far more comfortably now. It's Theater night at Cracktooth's and no one would comment on me appearing here. Although looking like an entertainer was pretty much exactly the same kind of camouflage here. I quietly take a seat at the bar. The current occupant of the large stage was singing what must have been intended as a humorous story, but the weary groans it was eliciting told the story for me and I barely bother to pay any attention.
Instead, I look up and down the bar for the person I am here for. Each of the boys serving drinks is hardly older than fourteen summers, not who I'm looking for at all. My earnest eyes draw one of the serving boys to me.
“What'll it be beautiful?” he attempts a careless smirk, perhaps in a few years he'd be a ladykiller, but for now he's a gawky, spotty faced youth. I slide a silver across the bar and ask for ale. I'm not planning on drinking it anyway, might as well not waste wine being just a decoration.
“Is Cracktooth in tonight?” I ask.
“You won't have to wait much longer, it's just this rubbish, then a minstrel up from Riddleport.”
I'm not sure what he's talking about, but the energy of the tavern... the banality of the parodist and the patient attention of the other patrons... made me consider spending the time to wait and see.
The parodist finished a children's song with its lyrics replaced by lewd sexual innuendo and bowed to scattered polite applause. When his hat came around, I took pity on him, feeling how light it was, and scattered a handful of coppers into it. Starving Artist might be a funny or even honorable ideal to anyone who hasn't been starving themselves.
Gaining the stage is a young Varisian man, a stranger to my eyes. He carries a harp with him, a strange instrument for a Riddleport musician. Harps were for nobles' estates and the halls of kings, not commoners. Either we are in for a treat, or a bandit is showing off after raiding a noble's procession. The man seems to lock eyes with me as his hands touch the first notes of his song.
All life is a game, it's pieces on a board
Who put us here, to feel the things we feel?
A branch without a root, sang without a chord
How did you get here, a past of blood and steel?
A strange song, I listen carefully.
Peace could never save us, so violence is our legacy
A single willow in the wind
Haunted day by day
by blood seen and blood multiplied
to sever blood to naught
The slow, sonorous hum of his voice begins to enrapture me, I felt flushed, as if with fever as I began to recognize whose story was being told.
Retribution, a solitary hope
Peace it will not bring
Save peace of joining
Those left you behind
But it is your nature to meddle
and meddling will deny your cover
anonymity your fraying cloak
against a cold wind known
I shiver involuntarily and clutch my throat. I pray he would finish this ghastly song, but he kept right on singing and strumming that harp.
Will you cease your path
or are you keen beyond care?
Will the coin be a comfort
for a life without clan?
Live apart, or live a Part.
Find your peace
or it will find you.
And with that, the soft tones fade away as a memory, wispy as smoke and as easy to grasp to hand. A surprised cheer erupts at his performance, and turns to a disappointed bleat when he begins carefully stowing his harp and blank facedly leaving the stage. He looks right through me, as if I wasn't there, but I know he knows me, and I know his purpose, and he has to know who that song was addressed to. The man's hat comes to me, heavy with copper and scattered with silver. I pass it on without looking at it.
“Who was that? What was his name?” I ask the young man behind the bar.
“Marius Thelot” he says, “Odd name for a Varisian... I would have thought he was from Galt with a name like that.”
Another message. Marius Thelot was a character in a play about a boy seeking revenge for a lost love sparking a revolution that left hundreds more with loves lost. He dies with a dagger in his back, hearing his killer shout “For Love”.
So someone in the Szcarni is on to me. I'll have to watch out for them, but ultimately, if their eye is on me, they'll become easier to fool. It's impossible to pull an audience's attention where you want it to go without them looking at you to start. Still, the ale is looking more attractive now. I school my impulse and continue to wait.
A roar to dwarf the applause for 'Marius' erupts all of a sudden, and I'm confused until I see a large man striding up the stage. He's quite tall and broad shouldered, with well-muscled arms and a nose that has clearly been broken before. Scars mark his mouth and forearms at scattered intervals, and old tattoos show themselves peeking out from under his worker's sleeveless tunic. He's got girth along with his muscles, but it fits him well in proportion. His head is shaved, and a crown line indicates it's a choice due to losing his hair early. A good choice by my estimation.
“Welcome to my humble establishment once more my friends. Have you heard the news?”
“NOT YET.” the crowd answers, in what is clearly a ritualized call and response. I can see why this act has caught on. “WHAT'S NEW?”
“The Lord Mayor's wife supposedly spent a thousand gold pieces on a single corset this last month. Perhaps that's the most expensive raising of the honorable Lord Mayor's Mizzenmast to date, and yet his fleet's skirmishes with Korvosa continue a tradition of saber rattling that can only speak to a deficiency in such a department.” A burst of laughter issued from the crowd.
“Perhaps they should write that thousand gold off as wasted expense on the budget?” a titter. “But perhaps it's worth it, to keep his mind on plowing, because maybe then he'll remember that the fields must needs plowing and seeding just as much as his home, and he'll allocate just a little more to buying back the noblefields. I'll believe it when I see it though... Never has he been one to...”
I relax into watching him and letting his performance wash over me. I've got very little context for the Magnimar government, so many of his observations are over my head. His oratory skill is magnificent though, his cadence, transitions... I find myself laughing at his delivery, even when I don't know anyone he is lampooning. I could learn a thing or two from him.
I begin reconsidering my decision not to drink of my ale as his performance wears on. As entertaining as he makes it, I find my mind beginning to wander out of boredom. Although I have plenty to occupy my mind, I find myself glad when the performance is over and I can continue the business of the night.
Raucous applause and a general din of conversation accompanies his dismounting the stage. I hang back as a number of admirers surround him. It isn't until he breaks away that I move to intercept.
“Mr. Berinni? May I have a word in private?”
“It's Cracktooth.” he grunts, and looks down at me. “I don't make it a habit of disappearing with a beautiful woman during operating hours, people would talk. I think with you they'd talk about me robbing the cradle.”
It had been a while since someone had complained of me being too young, I grumble to myself about being seen as immature because of my age.
“That being the case, I have a valuable proposition for you.”
That stopped him. He turned to me and smirked, “Many People would say that those are fateful words to hear from a Varisian.” I color. I hate that my people are despised for being tricksters and confidence people... that we face discrimination and even outright hatred for this practice. I hate it all the more that I'm one of the ones responsible for that stereotype. I return to my justification to myself that I use what weapons I have for good, but I know that when I finish my deception here, no one will think of me as a hero anymore. A Hero status I gained for the murder of a disturbed young woman not too different from myself.
The world sucks.
“But I'm not Many People, and I don't care what Many People thinks. Come back at closing time and I'll give you my ear.” He pantomimes pulling his ear off, then putting it back on, complete with turning his head like a showman to subtly hide the ear from view and turning back when he 'returns' it. A playful bit of sleight of hand, but I'm glad to see his hands are as good as I've heard, my plan wouldn't work otherwise. He winks and sets about returning to tend his bar.
I leave his bar, but I don't have anywhere in particular to go, so I spend a few hours wandering the city streets. It's dark, and cooler now than it was earlier. I can hear the chirp of the grasshopper and the call of the whippoorwill loud as can be. It's times like this I appreciate the smallness of Sandpoint. The larger cities, which I prefer in a general sense, sound like men at all hours of the day and night. All the life that lives in our world is shouted down by taverns, drunks, and the incensed when we live too close together. Here, we still hear that there's a living place we're a part of.
It isn't long before I decide to return to Cracktooth's. The night was wearing on already when he took the stage. Cracktooth is waiting at a booth, wearing optics and looking at a sheaf of papers. He looks up as I enter and silently gestures to the seat across from him. I settle into it as gracefully as I can, which is extremely graceful.
“So. You wanted to speak in private?” he prompts.
“I am sure you're aware of the animosity between Mr. Scarnetti and Mistress Tesarani.”
“I'm also aware you're one of Scarnetti's lackeys in this matter.”
“I understand you've got a problem with people imposing their worldview on other people. Scarnetti wants to become mayor and do just that. His Chelish values don't bear exporting here, even if a majority agree with them... those of us on the fringes of society must have their ways of life respected and protected, and he isn't after that.”
“You don't sound much like his propaganda minister.”
“I'm not the one who said I was a Scarnetti lackey, you did.”
“So why should I trust your word over popular rumor?”
“One of the first things he had me do for him was establish a connection of trust and cooperation with the Szcarni element of this city. The Szcarni killed my entire family. This alliance is meant to shut down the Pixie's Kitten because it wasn't to his moral taste.” I don't have to act even one iota to express my disgust and quiet, seething rage as I let this out for the first time. I find I have tears brimming up and I fall quiet, willing them not to show, trying to blink them away. To my surprise, I feel his warm, rough hand encircle mine, left carelessly across the table.
“I believe Scarnetti has no true friends at this table.” His eyes hold steady with sympathy. I compose myself, and pull my hand free, smiling so he knows I don't mean to be rude.
“Yes, anyway...” I clear my throat, “I have a plan to trip up Scarnetti and ruin his plans in Sandpoint politics, and leave us both with a healthy chunk of his wealth besides.”
“I know a greed hook when I see it. Convince me assuming I know I'm going to walk out of this proposition with at best no more money than I enter it with, because I know how these tricks work. I've done my share of them myself.”
“I need you to host a high stakes gambling tournament, with your inheritance from your recently passed dear old Great Aunt Gertrude as the prize money. She would have wanted it that way.”
“Very nice, but I haven't got a Great Aunt Gertrude, much less a rich one, much less died lately.”
“Just go ahead and call me Gerty, because I got permission from Mayor Deverin to borrow back the reward money I refused before, just for the duration of this con.”
“So okay, I offer your reward money as a prize in a high stakes game... to what end? What does this have to do with Scarnetti?”
“I can't explain to you quite yet, I don't want to risk any chance Scarnetti will see the Hook before he's swallowed your bait. Just be prepared for Mistress Tesarani to come to you with an unusual request, and grant it to her.”
“Flamin... you really are addicted to mystery, aren't you? Okay, let's say I'm convinced for now. Put the gold in my hand and I'll know you're on the level. I'll start putting out feelers for participants after that.”
“Start immediately” I say, and give him a key, “This will unlock the chest I put in your apartments. The gold is in there.”
“You... broke into my room? To put gold in? What if I had said no?”
“Let's just say that I trusted that you would say yes, and if not, that you would be happy to return it.”
“Okay...” he looked very serious for a moment, “But you'd better not have taken any of my Lovely Crystal Butterfly collection, I have almost a full set.” I laugh, and then realize he still has a serious expression.
“Don't worry, I took only memories and left only the gold.” I pat him on the hand and begin to rise. He grasps my wrist.
“I don't suppose I'll be betrayed, as you've managed to instill in me a great trust. It's this feeling of trust that makes me wary that I am the fool.”
I shake my hand free, “Keep up like that and you'll melt all the girls' hearts.” and I hurry out the door, not sure why I'm so angry. In his position, I wouldn't trust me either. Oh well, on to the next step... waiting for the seeds to germinate.
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Bdib
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Posts: 21
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Post by Bdib on Apr 15, 2013 11:16:12 GMT -7
Chapter 3: The Hook
“Agent Zoita, I have wonderful news!” It had been two days since my discussions with Tesarani and Cracktooth, it had been a relief to find the summons to Scarnetti manor this morning. Now I am here, watching Scarnetti practically bouncing from foot to foot with excitement.
“Well, are you going to make me guess? What's the news?” I ask, pretending great interest. I was reclining on a sofa in his solarium, holding a crystal of some fruit smelling beverage I hadn't drank from yet. Call me paranoid, but I never eat or drink offered by someone I think I've got deceived.
“My information web has carried a little bird that whispered in my ear about a high stakes gambling game, operating out of Cracktooth's in two nights.” I smile at this news.
“And? Have you developed a taste for risking your money?” I hate this part of deception the most... when I've got to listen to someone telling me everything that I already know as if it's news.
“No, but in it may lay the key to destroying the Pixie's Kitten once and for all.” he gestures dramatically with his fruit punch and drains it in one go. I find my patience fraying. He's so pleased with himself, and he's so entirely wrong about everything, and if he doesn't get done with his refresher of everything going on faster so I can be done with him forever I'm going to punch him right in the nose.
“You see, the Pixie's Kitten is putting its deed up as collateral for its entry fee... if I can enter the tournament and get them to leave it all on the table, the deed will be mine! I'll be able to convert it to a stables, or a storehouse for filth like it deserves to be.” The evil light in his eyes reminds me that however much I despise him, the singleminded desire to write his influence across this city makes him a threat no matter how idiotic I find him.
“Wait... why would Kaye Tesserani put her deed up as collateral? She doesn't seem the type to gamble compulsively.”
“Ah, I forget how far behind you are sometimes... that you don't have as many informants as I have... see, word on the street is that the Pixie's Kitten has fallen upon hard times... creditors are coming knocking and they don't have the capital to pay them off. If the Pixie's Kitten doesn't generate capital, Kaye will have to sell. She must be entering this game as an attempt to save her position.”
“Ah... but Mistress Tessarani has an intense loyalty to her boys and girls, I think she'd withdraw if she saw you as her opponent... she'd want someone who was going to preserve her establishment for their benefit.” I say. I almost feel bored as I follow essentially a script. I know what he's going to say before saying it. I almost feel like... like an actor on a stage, and I almost cannot help myself mouthing the words along with the actor acting opposite me.
“Oh, but I do have contacts with Vhiski, I could pay him to enter on my behalf. Then all he's got to do is beat her and it'll be the start of a revolution in this city.”
“That's a good start, but what if Tessarani beats him instead? You'd be throwing away this opportunity and making the Pixie's Kitten stronger at the same time.”
“But that's the name of the game, you've got to take a risk to get a gain. In any game there are winners and losers. In this case, if I win, I win it all. If I lose, I lose very little.”
“Ah, but let me demonstrate the flaw in your reasoning.” I appear my Harrow deck into my hand.
“Whoa! How did you do that?” Scarnetti exclaims with the youthful exuberance of a preadolescent, eyes wide as saucers.
“Simplicity itself, now you see it.” I flourish my hand, “Now you don't.” I held it nonchalantly in my opposite hand, showing him the hand he expects it to be in empty.
“Now, take the top five cards, look at them, and put them back.” Scarnetti does as I ask. “Now remember what they are, but don't tell me.” I pick up the deck and begin shuffling at blinding speed, swapping between one handed triple divides, riffle shuffling, and the Vudran method.
“There are fifty four cards in a Harrow deck, and with a proper shuffle, there's no telling what order they've wound up in.” I begin speaking to build up my trick, but also to distract him so he might not see how cheap this trick really is. “Since the sequence of a game depends on the combination of cards as dealt from the top of the deck, the sequence of every card in the deck can have an impact. The number of possible games therefore, is what is called a number of magnitude. If you were to count up all the grains of sand on all the beaches of the world, it would not number the number of possible arrangements of a deck of cards.”
I slap the deck down and finish with a weave shuffle. I cut it in half, and place my thumb along the ridge at the bottom. With a zzzziiip sound, I pull my thumb up along the deck, exerting just the right pressure on it to merge it with the other half. “So, how do we make sure we've got the winning hand and our opponent doesn't?” I then dealt out five cards to each of us, alternating. “Look at your hand... does it look familiar?”
Titus Scarnetti looks up at me from the cards in wonder. “T...they're exactly the same! How did you do that!? I saw you shuffle like crazy!”
“I ask again, how do we make sure we have the winning hand, in the face of such a large number of possibilities?” I smile slowly, “We stack the deck.”
I collect my cards carefully and place them back in the order I dealt them out in. I perform a second Weave shuffle before disappearing it back to its case up my sleeve.
“I propose that if we want to be absolutely sure we'll take Mistress Tesarani for all she has, we install me as the dealer on that night. I can convince Cracktooth to make that happen, and with my cheating skills, the Pixie's Kitten will be yours by sunrise.”
“I clearly made a good choice when hiring you... you've proven to be a loyal and effective agent. Accomplish this for me, and you'll want for nothing the rest of your life.”
My eyes widen... I hadn't thought this was where he was going.
“To dissuade local worries of my father's legacy, I need some gesture, and marrying a Varisian would go a long way toward convincing them I don't share my father's hatred for your people. Besides, you've proven yourself incredibly intelligent. You'd be more than a small help advising me on business and further political matters. And you are quite beautiful.” He nods, “Indeed, I would consent to marry you, should we succeed here.”
“I... I'm shocked.” I manage, “Surely you can't marry me, I'm not a Lady.” I clearly am shocked, as I could have come up with a much better excuse than that if my wits were about me.
“In this barbaric land, such a prohibition is easily ignored. And if I take you home at some point, I can simply claim you as a minor nobility in these parts, and no one would be able to verify or refute that claim.”
“I am intensely flattered.” I say, recovering slightly. I realize that he's only mentioned so far the things that he would get out of our marriage. My brains applied to his businesses, my beauty, how I would help his present public image... what a toad.
“I will have to think about it. I will give you my answer after this endeavor succeeds.” I am suddenly intensely grateful it is planned to fail.
Titus Scarnetti nods, as if just as sure of my answer as he is of our success. I rise, my beverage still untouched. “I must be going, I have to convince Cracktooth to allow me to deal, and I have... other preparations to enact vis a vis Vhiski. I'll make contact about your need for him to enter on your behalf while I'm there.”
“I'll walk you out.” Scarnetti rises, and threads his arm through mine. I feel intensely uncomfortable walking to the door this way, but I smile awkwardly up at him and hope he takes it for bashfulness.
As I ride slowly back to town, I take out and examine the second Harrow deck I had made. At close inspection, the backs of the cards have a very slightly different design, but while shuffling, the cards are moving too quickly to tell. Until the Weave shuffle, I hadn't been doing anything to the deck that Scarnetti had looked at. About the cheapest trick possible... and worthless to actually cheat with, but it seemed impressive, and it had convinced Scarnetti, so it had done its job.
But now, on to more enjoyable aspects of the preparations... Breaking and entering and petty larceny.
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Bdib
New Member
Posts: 21
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Post by Bdib on Apr 15, 2013 14:37:09 GMT -7
Chapter 4: In any game, there are winners and losers
I feel really uncomfortable in the dealer's odd garb. It was cut for a man, and I'm not used to the high, tight collar and the itchy closeness of the starched pants. I constantly feel like leaning down and scratching the inner half of my knee. I hope my concentration won't be thrown off by the unfamiliar garb, because it's the night of truth, when all my deceptions play out.
The night has been profitable so far, with the town's elite sitting intently around low tables, trading vast sums of money over the order of pieces of paper. Or observing from a lounge, sipping expensive wine and commenting softly on the games in procession. In only a few moments, the final round will play out and points will be calculated for the grand prize. I look over to Cracktooth, presiding over the room from his position next to the open chest, with its riches artfully strewn around nearby. My reward money, plus a little extra contributed by all of the actors in this little drama. Cracktooth sees me looking and shares a private smile with me. I smile warmly back and return my attention to the players.
Tesarani is thankfully extremely good at Towers, and Vhiski is at least good enough that I don't have to follow him around cheating just to ensure he makes it to the final round. All indications is that they'll each be contenders for the ultimate prize, depending on the outcome of their game against each other. I feel a little bad, considering all the other participants, who are destined to lose, thinking themselves in reach of a small fortune. I remind myself that they'll never know that it was rigged, and that in any game, there are winners and losers.
Finally, the final game concludes and the tournament players rearrange themselves into their final positions, and I take my place as dealer between Tesarani and Vhiski. The two stare icily at each other over the table. Each knows the other is their enemy on a deeper level than just an obstacle to riches, but Vhiski is unaware of the other's awareness of that truth. I mutely deal out the six Towers and then each of the two players' reserves.
“I raise” Tesarani states, grinning at her cards. From the spectator's area, Scarnetti looks at me with an alarmed worried expression. I'm again surprised at how stupid he is. At this point, Tesarani has to believe she's been dealt a winning hand, so she has to buy into the game enough to make the debt expensive enough that as it creeps up, her bank will be emptied. But in his gaze, I can tell he thinks I have already failed in my task of cheating on his behalf. No, Scarnetti, that comes later.
Tesarani has put ten gold pieces on her Price, which means for each Debt she accrues at the end of one of her turns, she owes Vhiski ten gold pieces, and in turn, he owes her as much for each Debt he accrues on his turn. Vhiski complies, looking a little worried. I find myself annoyed at the people I'm manipulating again. If Tesarani weren't aware of most of what was happening, I'm sure she'd know his overacted worry as a sign something was amiss. No one looks worried at the first raise in a legitimate Towers game, and if someone does, it's because they're trying to hustle you. Poorly.
Tessarani plays The Hidden Truth in the Lawful Good position, a play that extends the game, as it makes more possible plays in the long run by not blocking any possible moves. In Magnimar rules, it'd be blocking one play in the Strength Tower, but Cracktooth doesn't play that version. She then plays the Rabbit Prince on the Lawful Neutral space of Dexterity and The Desert on the Chaotic Good space of Intelligence. No one ever accrues debt on the first play.
Vhiski furrows his brow and raises a gold. Now each debt card at the end of the game will be worth eleven gold pieces. He plays The Brass Dwarf in the Neutral good position of Constitution, blocking the Lawful Good position off of that Tower. He then plays the Inquisitor on the Neutral Evil position of Intelligence, blocking the Lawful Evil position and finishes his turn with the Joke in the Chaotic Evil position of Constitution. Each move blocking off exactly one other potential card placement.
The turns pass back and forth, with the strategies remaining the same, Tessarani extending the game and making raises and Vhiski playing a moderate game, heading off moves and avoiding increasing the penalty for debt. Soon the board fills up and the opportunities for debt multiply. The Price lies at a hundred fifteen pieces of gold, and Tesserani holds twelve debt while Vhiski only holds ten. Tessarani has ceased to make raises, and looks far cooler than her confident face of earlier. She plays as well as she can, but when I give her bad cards and Vhiski good ones, she doesn't have a prayer.
I know what's coming next, and I have to exert a will not to expect it too much.
“HEY!” Cracktooth's large hand grips my wrist and holds it aloft.
“You were dealing from the bottom!” He says, “And this ring!?” He holds one finger, ungently outstretched. Its surface was clearly mirrored. “I don't abide cheaters.” and he violently shoves me. I make a show out of my fall, since every eye in the room was already on me, all noise of the other proceedings silenced. Cracktooth makes a show of evaluating the board in the new, intense silence.
“Who is winning? Vhiski?” he points inquisitorially at me, “Were you rigging a game in his favor? Maybe looking for a split of the prize?” He towers over me dangerously.
Vhiski rises and approaches with a cold look in his eyes. “I don't abide cheaters either.”
“How do I know you weren't in league to scam this tournament?”
Vhiski without comment slaps me across the face. I see stars as I sag back to the floor. Cracktooth crosses his arms, unimpressed. Vhiski kicks me in the midsection, I crumple in on myself. I knew this would be the worst part of this plan, and I had hoped Vhiski hadn't decided this would be the best way to prove his innocence, but I had accepted the possibility. I allow Vhiski to land several more blows on my prone form before I cry out, “Wait! We weren't in league!” Vhiski pauses in his assault.
“He's telling the truth... I cheated in his favor without his knowledge... but it was because I overheard him before the game... he was planning on murdering Mistress Tessarani if he lost!”
A gasp goes around the gathered onlookers, confused eyes meeting each other, seeking the truth of this situation.
“Check his boot, he has a dagger concealed there. I saw him hide it!”
An increasingly accusatory murmer goes up, and Vhiski, for the first time looks a little worried. Perhaps he noticed that one of his boots felt heavier than it had before the beating had started. That worry played directly into the fears of the crowd, and made him look guilty.
“Lies!” He speaks at last, “Who would believe an admitted cheater?”
“Alright then, show us your boot and we'll all know your innocence.”
Vhiski hesitates, and then sits down to pull off his boot. A curved dagger with a faux ruby in its pommel clatters noisily to the floor. Vhiski blinks in surprise at the sight of the dagger... it belongs properly to one of his less intelligent cousins, who commissioned it in Magnimar to show off his wealth, but used it in a mugging a little more than a month ago, meaning it was material evidence to a crime.
“That... isn't proof I was going to use it to murder anyone... just that... she snuck it onto my person.”
The crowd voices its disbelief, cheating at cards is one thing... sleight of hand while being beaten was a whole other level of skill. They didn't happen to know it was a skill I possessed.
“Look, I don't know what to think.” Cracktooth says, “But just hand over the dagger and we'll let the guard sort this out.”
“N... no.” Vhiski says. The dagger is too distinctive, and he knows Belor will manage to get him pinned for the crime if he's taken in with it. He has no choice but to keep it.
“Then I'm going to have to eject you... I specifically said no weapons were to be allowed.”
Vhiski narrows his eyes, but stiffly backs away, and storms out. Cracktooth looks over the game again and says, “Bets already in must stand... even if cheating was involved... but Vhiski must Retreat at this point, giving the game to Mistress Tessarani... Although...” he smirks in a way only I can see. “Vhiski's entry was paid by a silent partner... I'll allow that Silent Partner to step forward and fill Vhiski's shoes.”
Titus Scarnetti, looking furious, steps out from the observation lounge, removing his hood, glaring at me, Tessarani, the game, Vhiski, and anyone who would get in his way. I can tell he's seeing red.
“I will continue my partner's game.” he exclaims.
“And I will take over personally as dealer, since apparently my help can't be trusted.” Cracktooth glares down at me, still apparently reeling from my beating, though really, I've had much, much worse.
As Cracktooth and Scarnetti take their places, Tessarani and Scarnetti glaring ice daggers at each other over the table, I pick myself up and sit at an adjacent table... this is where it would REALLY get interesting...
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