Mythic Silvermote: Architects of the Manse

Sympathy for the Unlucky

Sometimes Dumb Luck is the Only Luck You Can Count On

After attempting to size up the half-elf, Peliaos determined that he was a cleric of an ancient order of a dead Faerunian godess, Tymora.  After much prying and bantering, it became apparent that what the half-elf was most interested in was a game of chance.  His name was asked by Limebead, who relayed that he went by many names, but based on his current luck, the party should call him "Streak".  When Dixxi pointed out that this likely meant that he was lucky, Streak pointed out that was not nessicaritly so.

The following conversation drew the Tengu and the gambler into deep contemplation, as the druid proferred a treasured possession – a shiny ring that shed light.  Streak offered a game of knucklebones agains the druid, and offered up a small crystal sphere full of prismatic energy,both shiny and bright.

Once the terms of the bet on the game were agreed to, Streak proceeded to describe the game of knucklebones to the druid, who did not seem intimate with the rules.  The gambler then produced ten metal caltrops from his bag, and a small red rubber ball.  The point of the game, he stated, was to bounce the ball, then gather up the small caltrops before it bounced to the ground again. 

The gambler allowed the druid to attempt play first, which led to a stunning example of manual dexterity.  After managing to secure seven caltrops, the druid retired.  The gambler only made two passes before scattering the caltrops in a botched grab.  The Tengu won the bright shiny, which was revealed to be an axiomatic crystal sphere, containing a compressed wild magic surge.

Limebead went on to question the gambler, and came to find out a bit about him.  Apparently, he was a god, berift of his "divine spark" (a talisman which apparently allowed him to access the powers of his godness).  Part of the faith of his church was to bestow this spark, and it's related powers to one of his faithful priests (called Fatespinners) at dawn each day, after a contemplative roll of sacred dice.

Several centuries before, the clergyman whom he had bestowed his fabulous talisman upon lost it in a gambling match with the dwarf, Squeseme (who allegedly cheated in the match). 

The loss of his spark left Streak bereft of many of his powers.  He managed to turn the tables on the dwarf, duping one of the business partners of his company into gambling away the magical satchel which connected all their vaults of wealth, then winning it handily.

When the dwarf confronted the former god for the return of his purse, Streak doubled the wager, stating he would bet the satchel against the dwarf's soul, which he would exchange for his divine talisman if he won.  The dwarf agreed, and lost.

This led to a further altercation, accusations of cheating, meddling, and a full review of the text of the rules of ten-pin rockslither in dwarven, ancient dwarven, and draconic. After much argument, the dwarf proposed a wager he felt he could not loose, in an attempt to regain his soul while still keeping the divine talisman he had aquired.

Squesme bet Streak that he would not be able to resist wandering away from a certain crossroads in the Mistrealm they were both familiar with.  Streak offered a counter-bet that he could stay, and that the dwarf would be unable to resist attempting to steal the satchel the former god had fairly won.

So it was that centuries of proxy attempts to thwart the terms of each other's bets occured.  According to Streak, the dwarf had sent over a thousand souls to try and beguile or force the satchel out of the hands of the former god.

Unwilling to gamble further, and armed with new insight, the partty navigated to the correct road, and returned to the dwarf.

The party offered a go-between trade – they got the gambler to agree to relenquish the bag in exchange for his divine spark.  Streak seemed to think that the dwarf would never part with the talisman while the former god held the bag.  The party was determined to prove him wrong.

Unfortunately, the party came to find that the dwarf did not have the talisman any longer.  He had long-ago lost it to the foul machinations of a dragon, trapped deep within the bowels of a mountain, too ponderous to exit from any of the crags it slithered into as a young wyrm. 

Squesme confided that he had indeed sent hundreds after the gambler, but further pointed out that he was certain from the moment he had met the party that they were special.  The party first encountered the dwarf ferrying souls to the dragon – a wagonload of dwarven and gnome souls, with a single elven soul in the mix, which was met outside the mount of the dragon by wierd cultists, strikingly familiar to the ones that had attacked the party recently in Waterdeep.

The dwarf further confided to the party that he had encountered the dragon researching the Nexus event the party was allegedly at the center of, when they first met up with the dwarf on the prime.

Peliaos bargained passage back to the prime, using his force of personality and a honeyed tongue.  For the low-low price of 1gp per passenger, the dwarf agreed to carry them back to retrieve the spark, though he suggested in the future the party might be better served not selling themselves so cheaply as a dockside doxie.

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