A Cold Night Out

Seated on the shores of Lake Lovalus, Rharne serves as the home of the Lighting Knights, the Thunder Priestesses, and the Merchant's guild. This beautiful trade city is filled with a happy and contented people who rarely need an excuse to party.

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Revan Blackhand
Approved Character
Posts: 71
Joined: Sun Apr 04, 2021 4:05 pm
Race: Yludih
Profession: Thief
Renown: 50
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Wealth Tier: Tier 1

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A Cold Night Out


1 Cylus 721
Rharne seemed to change just a little more every single trial that passed but Cylus, Cylus had always been Revan's favorite season. Work was plentiful in the dark and the dark was abundant in Cylus. Unfortunately so was the cold which made his fingers feel numb at times. Numb fingers could never slip into pockets and pull out treasures. Numb fingers couldn't do most of the things Revan wanted his fingers to do, but they could hold a drink and that was enough for the first night of Cylus. He spent the whole trial in the Earth Quarter, moving around carefully while the blizzard raged from one end of Rharne to the other. He thought about staying home but decided it was better to get out and see people. He was always looking to add to the collection but when any of the other Blackhands were around he had to be careful about it. Caution had lead to inaction too many times already in his opinion. A few breaks at The Barrel Pot and then he moved to the Harlot 'n' Hound where he ended up spending most of his trial drinking and looking for easy targets.

Things were not the way that they used to be and while the shifter enjoyed some of the changes, he found others a little more irritating. The faction of do-gooders who'd increased the security in the Dust Quarter a few arcs back made life harder for Revan in a lot of ways. They'd also made it so Morton could tolerate the Dust Quarter but Revan spent far more time there- not that it mattered while he was sitting in a bar and brothel in the Earth Quarter. He didn't mind when Ilaren broke the bonds on their weapons but when she outlawed slavery altogether it made things more difficult for the few slavers that Revan had worked with. Revan had never preferred slave trading but it did pay well and so long as it paid well, what did his preference matter? He could just... adopt a different one. So work got a little hard and a little easier at the same time. There was a rise of cutpurse schemes from Willow but they didn't go through with most of them.

Revan wanted something big, something worth the risk. When he found that he would start to plan a little more but until then he had to keep his skills sharp and work on his weak points. He'd taken a bit of a break from crime and liked to think his skills had gotten rusty over time. It was preferable to the alternative thought that he just never was all that good but he'd never had aspirations like the ones he had now. While the Flameborn had been plaguing the land he'd kept his head down but now the war was over and there was little left but the aftermath. People were slowly getting back into the swing of things, Revan included. He sat in a corner of the Harlot'n'Hound with a cup of Amber Blade Grog on the table in front of him and his dark green cloak pulled on over his head, casting darkness over his projected face.

He tapped impatient fingers on the table, thinking of how much he missed his old pipe. He had one a few arcs ago but had fallen on it after trying and failing to climb over a wall. His eyes drifted down to the dark wooden cane he carried around everywhere- both as Revan and as Morton. The wood was a deep brown, almost like walnut but he wasn't certain that it was that specific wood. He'd started walking with a limp as Revan about a season ago to justify carrying the cane around with him wherever he went. It was an idea he'd taken from his long departed genetic donor. No one seemed to notice in the sack that the limp went away. No one seemed to notice him in general when he kept his head down and his mouth shut. Wearing a hood seemed to help people scan over you when they looked in a crowd but Revan suspected it could also work against you if you were the only one wearing a hood. Fortunately he was not... tonight.

Birdy Harlot, an attractive girl with a face almost worth borrowing, took to the stage to begin her set like she did almost every night Revan had been at the bar and brothel. He liked listening to her sing, but he enjoyed the way she seemed to rile up everyone else a little more. Revan was always working, always looking to gamble and make a little profit. There was no populated room he could walk into that he could not find something worth stealing. While the bird sang, the thief looked around the room for an easy target which was not quite as simple to figure out as he was hoping. There were many drunks but he couldn't quite tell who was and who was not in a gaming mood from where he was sitting so he reluctantly decided to put the operation on the move.

He rose from his seat, wobbling with his grog in one hand and his cane keeping him steady with the other. It was hard to play both drunk and limping at the time so Revan leaned into the drunk performance and if he was pushed, he'd argue that the Amber Blade numbed the pain. Willow said that happened to some people who drank. He stumbled around slowly, letting his hood slip off his head and prodding his cane into the floor every now and then to keep him from 'falling over.' A few trills passed and he let his eyes wander the room with his swaying body, he took another gulp of his grog and kept moving until he came across a table of louder drunks. Loud wasn't always good but it was probably a better gamble for the little con he wanted to run than a quiet table.

The Blackhand timed his mistake rather well, going to drink from his cup as he walked passed them and bumping into their table when he did. He drink spilled over his face and clothing a lot more than he wanted and he felt his inner Morton screaming about how it would smell like apples forever now, but Revan shook the thoughts from his head and tried to get back into the roll he was playing. He had a little buzz of energy from what he'd been drinking so far but his kind never got drunk like the other races. He'd made the mistake of thinking that meant he wouldn't feel anything if he drank a lot when he was sixteen and climbing the steps with his friends but he liked to think he'd become more careful.

His grog had splashed over their table too and his cane fell from his hand, bouncing on the floor a little while Revan leaned against the rowdy group's table to balance himself. "Oh hello, boys, fancy a drink and bet?" Revan grumbled out in a heavily slurred way. He was definitely overdoing it but he wasn't the best actor. He thought that committing to the role was better than underselling it. Fortunately the men he was talking too were already drunk so they weren't the most perceptive lot.

"I think you've had enough." One of the men with a thick beard and only a ring of hair atop his head said. He had a thick build and looked like he'd been drinking for a while. His friends laughed and gave similar jabs but Revan didn't mind them because they were nothing creative or new.

"I'm still awake aren't I?" Revan asked the table which prompted a laugh from one side. The thick bearded man leaned over and picked Revan's cane up off the ground, leaning it against the table.

"I don't like taking nels from cripples." He seemed to decide.

"Oh I get it," Revan said with a smirk, "You're afraid a cripple is going to show all your friends you can't hold your drinks." The bearded man's brow furrowed and he shouted for one of the servers to come over to them. It took a few moments because the Harlot 'n' Hound was busy that night but one reached them.

"Alright fine, what the wager?" The man with the thick beard asked.

"We drink, shot for shot, first one to quit or fail loses. I'll bet you ten gold nels I last longer than you do." He had biology on his side after all.

"Okay, slick, you're on. Drink of choice?"

"Brandy."

"Whiskey it is."
word count: 1493
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Jackalope
Posts: 420
Joined: Sun Feb 28, 2021 7:34 pm
Race: Human
Renown: 0
Wealth Tier: Tier 1

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Re: A Cold Night Out


Experience: +10 xp

Knowledge:

Appraisal - Judging the value of a target
Acting - Pretending to have a limp
Acting - Pretending to be what the humans call 'drunk'
Acting - Better to oversell than to undersell a performance
Stealth - Wearing a hood diverts attention if others have hoods too
Deception - Having a lie prepared in case of questioning

Skillplay: Appropriate to level

Loot: None.

Injuries/Overstepping: None.

Renown: None.

Comments: The concept of an Yludih hustling drinking contests is amusing, and potentially dangerous, as are all hustles. And what better place to run it than Rharne? I wonder if Rqivahman isn’t risking exposure with such a game…

This thread feels like a set up for a longer story, and it appears, from Revan’s other requests in the queue, that this is the case. That this thread is devoted entirely to the setup is interesting. It’s a good setup for the scam.

Since he’s only a novice at acting and deception, I wonder how convincing his performance would actually be to a discerning eye. However, a bunch of drunk patrons expecting another drunk patron would probably not think twice.

I wonder why he thinks Birdy Harlot’s face would be worth borrowing. I don’t know the character well enough to understand his criteria.

Let me know if either of you have any questions/feedback. Enjoy your rewards!
word count: 228
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