Aces and Twos
Posted: November 22nd, 2019, 10:22 pm
Primer: The Gem of Keravosteign, named for its creator, has been a fabled myth for ages. Said to be worth more than any precious stone or metal in the whole of Khy’eras, the legends say that no person thought to have been in possession of it has held it for more than a week before meeting a grisly death. But these are just stories….right? In Verdant Row, the dimly lit tavern called the Heartbroken Socks Inn contains one such individual, claiming to know the location of the Gem of Keravosteign. A simple dwarven merchant, going only by the name of Bahlin, offers this information freely: It resides in a cave just outside of Fellsgard, supposedly guarded by a cadre of orcs who know not what they have. Any fool brave enough to liberate it for Bahlin need only take an airship out to Fellsgard and return to collect a more-than-handsome fee.
Cleaver had been listening in to the conversation between a dwarven merchant and would-be elven adventurer go back-and-forth for nearly thirty minutes. The dwarf was very clearly desperate for someone to retrieve a jewel, but not just any jewel…. The would-be adventurer had finally heard enough of the dwarf’s ravings of some mythical piece and abruptly wandered away from the dark corner and back to the bar proper to drink in peace. Cleaver shook his head once or twice, trying to convince himself not to leave his comfortable table and take the dwarf up on his offer. Coin had come and gone for the roguish rake, spent freely to lessen his debts and keep him in drink. He had only a week left before the rest of his payment was expected in Fellsgard, else he would receive a broken leg or worse.
There was always a card game to cheat, or some other game of chance to manipulate… Then again, he dared not fix a game so close to where his debts were owed in the first place. Lady luck was such a fickle creature, at least such was the truth that Cleaver had come to not learn over the course of time. With a grumble, the former paladin rose and turned for the dark corner; mug in hand. His steps silent, but obvious in their intent. ”Pardon me, friend, but I couldn’t help but overhear your need,” he started. The dwarf lit up with a broad smile.
“Why, yes! A thousand thanks, my friend! My partner held the Gem, but was bushwhacked by a gang of Orcs just outside of Fellsgard. I have it on good authority it is still there,” the dwarf beamed. Cleaver flashed a knowing smirk, his teeth practically shining out of the corner of his mouth.
”If it is, Cleaver Stormshield is your man, through-and-through.” His thoughts turned devious, considering all the ways in which he could scam this dwarf. Whatever price was offered, Cleaver knew there would be a better one on the open market, and he only had to not return to Verdant Row for….the forseeable future. A hand reflexively went to idly stroke the neat beard on the end of his chin as the possibilities ran rampant. There was much that could go awry, but the call of coin was undeniable considering his dire need of it.
“There is just one problem, friend-Cleaver,” the dwarf mused. “You will need more than yourself to retrieve it.” The dwarf’s face went dark, almost filled with the same greed that drove Cleaver. It would have been a red flag, had the rogue not been wearing rose-tinted glasses. “There are many, many orcs. Many.”
Cleaver puffed out his chest as if his pride were struck directly. ”Clearly you’ve not hired the right pilferers. There’s not a lock I can’t pick, or a fortress I cannot infiltrate. Let’s talk price, Mister….”
“Bahlin. Yes. One platinum, and not a copper more,” the greedy, hungry dwarf replied. Cleaver stroked his beard as if considering, trying with all his might to conceal his delight and readiness to accept the offer without haggling even further. It was more than enough to pay off his debts with enough leftover to find yet more trouble. A handful of moments passed before he finally countered.
”Clearly you’ve not heard of my reputation. I’m the best, friend. Two platinums, one now and one on delivery.” It was worth a shot. Bahlin balked and shook his head.
“ONE platinum is more than generous. This is the score of a lifetime, friend..” Cleaver’s eyes narrowed at the little dwarf, and the hand that stroked his beard extended out to indicate they had an accord. Bahlin took it, shook it, and spat on the floor. “Very good, VERY GOOD! That should be aplenty for you to hire a hand or ten and still go home with a tidy sum, friend-Cleaver.”
Bahlin wasn’t wrong and knew it, too.
Cleaver had been listening in to the conversation between a dwarven merchant and would-be elven adventurer go back-and-forth for nearly thirty minutes. The dwarf was very clearly desperate for someone to retrieve a jewel, but not just any jewel…. The would-be adventurer had finally heard enough of the dwarf’s ravings of some mythical piece and abruptly wandered away from the dark corner and back to the bar proper to drink in peace. Cleaver shook his head once or twice, trying to convince himself not to leave his comfortable table and take the dwarf up on his offer. Coin had come and gone for the roguish rake, spent freely to lessen his debts and keep him in drink. He had only a week left before the rest of his payment was expected in Fellsgard, else he would receive a broken leg or worse.
There was always a card game to cheat, or some other game of chance to manipulate… Then again, he dared not fix a game so close to where his debts were owed in the first place. Lady luck was such a fickle creature, at least such was the truth that Cleaver had come to not learn over the course of time. With a grumble, the former paladin rose and turned for the dark corner; mug in hand. His steps silent, but obvious in their intent. ”Pardon me, friend, but I couldn’t help but overhear your need,” he started. The dwarf lit up with a broad smile.
“Why, yes! A thousand thanks, my friend! My partner held the Gem, but was bushwhacked by a gang of Orcs just outside of Fellsgard. I have it on good authority it is still there,” the dwarf beamed. Cleaver flashed a knowing smirk, his teeth practically shining out of the corner of his mouth.
”If it is, Cleaver Stormshield is your man, through-and-through.” His thoughts turned devious, considering all the ways in which he could scam this dwarf. Whatever price was offered, Cleaver knew there would be a better one on the open market, and he only had to not return to Verdant Row for….the forseeable future. A hand reflexively went to idly stroke the neat beard on the end of his chin as the possibilities ran rampant. There was much that could go awry, but the call of coin was undeniable considering his dire need of it.
“There is just one problem, friend-Cleaver,” the dwarf mused. “You will need more than yourself to retrieve it.” The dwarf’s face went dark, almost filled with the same greed that drove Cleaver. It would have been a red flag, had the rogue not been wearing rose-tinted glasses. “There are many, many orcs. Many.”
Cleaver puffed out his chest as if his pride were struck directly. ”Clearly you’ve not hired the right pilferers. There’s not a lock I can’t pick, or a fortress I cannot infiltrate. Let’s talk price, Mister….”
“Bahlin. Yes. One platinum, and not a copper more,” the greedy, hungry dwarf replied. Cleaver stroked his beard as if considering, trying with all his might to conceal his delight and readiness to accept the offer without haggling even further. It was more than enough to pay off his debts with enough leftover to find yet more trouble. A handful of moments passed before he finally countered.
”Clearly you’ve not heard of my reputation. I’m the best, friend. Two platinums, one now and one on delivery.” It was worth a shot. Bahlin balked and shook his head.
“ONE platinum is more than generous. This is the score of a lifetime, friend..” Cleaver’s eyes narrowed at the little dwarf, and the hand that stroked his beard extended out to indicate they had an accord. Bahlin took it, shook it, and spat on the floor. “Very good, VERY GOOD! That should be aplenty for you to hire a hand or ten and still go home with a tidy sum, friend-Cleaver.”
Bahlin wasn’t wrong and knew it, too.