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[retromach]

Atil would need to dedicate his final two days of downtime to the heist. It involved a bit of coaching and planning, but in the end, his role way pretty simple. He was to hide out, keep watch, and when a particular carriage came up the road, he was to step out and delay them. The changeling would take the form of it's occupant as a cover. Atil would need to keep him busy for at least ninety seconds for the changeling to enter the facility, reach the counting room, and exit the window safely.

To complete this plan, Atil should roll Dex/Stealth, Wis/Perception, and Cha/Deception.

[Weirdsound]

Mr. Shredder blinks. "Wait... you di- huh- no it was me. Somebody drugged me and dragged me off to another party or something. I... I honestly don't remember much. There was another bard there, using music to fuck with my mind, and alot of drugs in my system. But the point is I ditched you."

The Hobgoblin takes a deep breath. Disaster adverted. "Huh. We are both inconsiderate jerks then. I guess that means we can still be friends!" He laughs.

[LordPorkins]

Frederick drinks, and laughs, but sidles over to the building over time. He ducks out of the rambunctious crowd, chucks the bottle of terrible hooch into an allyway, spits to clear his mind, then crouches low and approaches

He makes the three rolls required of him

Stealth: 12
Investigation: 22
Perception: 4(!)

[Trissy-Tama]

[Redacted at Request]

[retromach]

Fyodor Saltsprits snuck around the old cathedral. It's stained glass long since harvested, wrought iron images of flames were shadowed ominously. It was dark here - very dark. He was well hidden as he moved silently among the old corridors. The building was still rent with tears and clefts from Crystalfall - the disaster that had led this district to be abandoned, where a palace of glass had fallen from the sky after an aerial attack by the Knights Arcane.

Then he found it. Bones formed into a crude altar. Bloodstains. Sacrifice grounds, and he was standing right in the midst of them.

He barely had time to rush to hide behind a defaced statue of an ancient orcish battle saint. He hadn't heard the footfalls approaching. A dozen cultists entered. Fyodor Saltsprits couldn't hope to fight so many alone. He had little choice but to hide and to listen, as their dark sermons called down for the death of the rich and the human, and the return to power of the Great People, trapped here, far from the sun and stars, like their master, the Dragon Below.

They would not meet here again. Fyodor Saltsprits learned that they were separating. They were going underground, for now. Their summoning had been successful, and their warlock assured them when the time came, his Mystic Arcanum would release the greater demon at his command. On the anniversary of Crystalfall, they would go to Skyway and set it loose, commanding it to bring The Airship Docks down onto Upper Central.

There was time to prepare, yet. That was still months away. The Church must be told.

[Weirdsound]

Hel-Shredder laughs. "You know what... I think you are right. I vaguely recall that everybody was naked! It does sound like an orgy! Now I really regret not remembering it!"

The hobgoblin adjusts the angle of his ears to match the curve of his mouth, so that he may literally grin from ear to ear in response to Sormias's proposition. He mirrors his friend's posture, leaning on the wall right next to her, before throwing a warm arm over her cold shoulders. "Sounds like a fine way to end my day and start yours! Your place or mine?"

[Trissy-Tama]

[Redacted at Request]

[zomara0292]

Stealth = 20 (16+4)
Perception = 23 (20+3)
Deception = 8
Intimidation = 18 (16+2)

[retromach]

Atil got most of the job perfect. He waited, unseen, lurking. He spotted his prey. He leaped out into the road, growling dangerously!

It lacked any real kind of subtlety, but it sure spooked the horses. They reared, and turned, charging off the other way. It took some time to get them to slow down enough to safely exit the vehicle.

Atil met back up with his contact later, and received his cut. 50 galifars, all told. Lem told him that it usually takes more time to set up a heist, but that if he's ever interested in working together again, he should look for him at the Shattered Mirror.

[Weirdsound]

Mr. Shredder leads the way.

It is clear at first glance that the Hobgoblin's room at the staffhouse is his home and has been for some time. The dwelling shares a faint smell of magical ink with its occupant, and there is a hobgoblin shaped indent on his mattress. The wizard keeps his abode spotless; The shelves are dusted, the bed is neatly made, and even the wallpaper is fresh. In a corner near the door sits the traveling supplies that he brings with him on adventures, as well as what appears to be the painting you picked out for him, wrapped up in brown paper for its own protection. The only exception to the neatness is his desk, which is covered with a mess of papers: both arcane scribblings and logistical documents relating to The Astral Kraken and other House affairs. If Sormias is actually paying attention, she may notice that many of the documents mention Aundair, the nation from which the elf she fucked hails.

The sexual encounter lasts a good long while. Hel-Shredder possesses superior Hobgoblin endurance, and is more than happy to occupy his partner with the mage hand and unseen servant spells when he does have to pause to reload.

[Trissy-Tama]

[Redacted at Request]

[Weirdsound]

Hel-Shredder smiles. He was starting to figure this Sormias character out. She was a genuinely sweet person with a taste for casual sex. The Hobgoblin made a note to help her indulge her hobby moving forward, both to further the pleasant budding friendship and to hopefully leave the aberration in deep enough debt to him that she might put aside her kind nature and have his back when the time comes to make tough, pragmatic, decisions.

The Hobgoblin lets go of Sormias and reluctantly rolls off her so that she may sit up. He wasn't sure how to judge or rank a non-goblinoid's sexual performance, but she was easily the most fun to cuddle with afterward; Her cool body didn't overheat his small bed. He could have easily fallen asleep holding her had she allowed it. "If you liked that, we should try to find a big 'ol Bugbear to screw your brains out next! Imagine a Hobgoblin, but several feet taller, covered in fur, and generally far more aggressive! They don't have the same endurance as my kind, but I'm sure you'll enjoy it nonetheless. I'll take you down to Lower Dura, the part of town where most of us Goblinfolk live, after our next voyage. Its a lot cheaper to party there than it is to attend a fancy art show!"

"...But I wouldn't mind trying another Art Show later either." He admits sheepishly, "I never made those connections I was after..."

He watches intently as the Aberration looks about his room. Many of the papers on the desk are written in Goblin, but Sormias can tell most of these are basic arcane calculations by looking at the diagrams and charts included on the same page. Hung proudly above the desk is a pencil drawing of The Astral Kraken on graph paper, with many parts of the ship labeled in both Goblin and Common, seemingly indicating that your host contributed to the design or implementation of those particular areas. Also on the desk are a few half-completed worksheets suggesting that the Wizard is trying to learn how to read and write in the Elfish language.

Sormias would also notice that Mr. Shredder actually signs his name "Hel-Shredder Rippedspleens" on official documents.

The notes on Aundair hint at some sort of trade dispute. The elf nation is angry at the Hobgoblin's employers for hiring away many of their skilled sailors and taking business from smaller local shipping companies, and it it would seem that House Lyrandar expects Mr. Shredder to take the lead in resolving the issue.

"Funny," the Hobgoblin remarks coldly, "people from Aundair have been fucking me for the last couple weeks. Not in the fun literal way though. I think I've finally got them to shut up though."

[Trissy-Tama]

[Redacted at Request]

[Weirdsound]

The Hobgoblin nods. "Oh. I'll keep trying. Those art shows are damn expensive though. I'm going to have to make a point to fill up the Kraken's hull with more valuables before returning home this time."

"That Knight Arcane who was at the party?" Mr. Shredder guesses, "Sanho ir'Lackingbrains? He was boasting about some exotic hooker he picked up at the gala at our last meeting. I should have put two and two together. Good on you for taking some money off him at least! I hope he at least paid the 50gp to cover your ticket."

He laughs, "Really though, I'm proud of you. If you are intent on fucking your way across Sharn, the godsdamned Aundair ambassador is a fine place to start!"

Hel-Shredder pauses for a second, before deciding against asking how he stacked up against Sanho as a lover, and instead changes the subject. "So. We should be departing on our next voyage soon. Getting exited for that yet?"

[Trissy-Tama]

[Redacted at Request]