VotS: The Lucky Gold Piece

[Jim Roberts]

[Feb 6 -- The Waterworks]

> “That would be appreciated,” Laquendi told her with a grateful nod,
> “after all, us silver-hairs need to stick together.”
>
> Hearing one of Tramma’s favourite phrases echoed back to her earned
> Laquendi a warm smile. “Exactly! Though, of course, I had in mind
> something more fun than *literally* stuck together with spider webs,”
> she quipped. “Glad that is done, let us go see how the search for
> filthy lucre has fared.”

Elsewhere the search of the area, aided by Finfin’s ability to spot
magic wherever it might be lurking, was soon complete, and a number of
required healing spells were dispensed, as needed. And soon after, the
Away Team was on the move again. Nobody really wanted to spend any more
time down here in the Waterworks tunnels than was really needed.

Fortunately, Tramma’s forecast she’d made to Jeyshann turned out to be
entirely accurate. After retracing their steps out of the “Ecru
Corridor”, it was only a relatively brief march until they’d reached the
northernmost extent of this section of the Waterworks. Here could be
found one last ladder leading upwards to a hatch controlled by a door
valve. Unlike any of the previous hatches, however, rather than leading
upwards into one of the many SJE population centers dotted around the
surface, this one led to the second of the area’s POW camps. Securing
this route would allow the Foreman’s Upwinders, and those sequestered at
this second camp, to freely communicate.

And after a long but entirely uneventful slog back south, they
eventually back in the Upwinder HQ, where they were effusively greeted
by the Foreman and his minions. All were quite glad to hear that they
would no longer have to worry about Dhulokk and his crazed minions,
though Tramma’s retelling skillfully avoided going overboard on the details.

Collectively, the kobolds seemed puzzled to hear about The Roper, and
only shook their heads at the story of THEM! “Kobold warned you not to
bring a picnic,” the Foreman sighed. Apparently the definition of a
picnic included a collection of well lit warmbloods.

However, the kobolds were particularly effusive in their praise when
they heard of the downfall of Ecru, some even capering around in a dance
that Tramma could identify as “The Hornpipe”. They were entirely certain
that the red eyed fiendish spider had been the REAL Ecru; what the Away
Team had met the previous day had not been the real Ecru, but an
incredible simulation.

Once the celebration had settled down, the leader of the kobolds
abruptly remembered something. "One of our scouts found this package in
the wolf pens,” the Foreman explained, “and the wolves were acting all
protective about it. Did you guys drop it on the way in?" He held up a
little chest with familiar dark blue, red, and gold lightning bolt
markings on it.

"Sorry about the scratches, my guys couldn't resist trying to open it,
not that the knuckleheads had any luck.” In the background, a few
kobolds managed to look sheepish, while a couple of others glared back
as they continued their efforts to replace some worn out metal bits on a
remarkably sophisticated “crafting station”. The Foreman sighed, and
added, “You know how it is."

“Thank you,” Ben replied urbanely, accepting the box. After a moment’s
hesitation, he dug into a pocket and handed back a gold piece.

Immediately, all of the kobolds stopped whatever cavorting or chattering
they might have been doing, staring intently at the coin in their
leader’s claw. Even the most obtuse of the Away Team could tell that the
mood of the crowd had soured as the kobolds began muttering amongst
themselves. Those who could understand their language, by training or by
spell, could understand that they were muttering something about a
“lucky gold piece”.

“What’s this?” the Foreman asked, looking in mild disgust down at the
coin in his hand. “I don't like the gold piece, Kenobi. I take that as
an insult.” The muttering all around grew angrier, and a few garrotes
could be seen being passed from kobold claw to claw.

“I did not intend an insult,” the Abbot began.

Tramma, perhaps unlike her Boss, was better able to sense the potential
faux pas. And she was CERTAINLY better studied on the Crime Family
Dramatic Classics, where exactly this sort of underwhelming gift was a
prelude to an assassination… or a Mob War… or both.

“Of course the Abbot intended no insult,” the bard interjected quickly.
“You know us humans, with all sorts of quirky traditions and
superstitions. Like always giving away a copper coin when gifting
something sharp. Think of this as something similar.”

The Foreman and a kobold wearing a decorative collar with a jumbled
collection of both Tellic and Plains People symbols and totems,
exchanged a long stare, Eventually the “Medicine Lodge” kobold shrugged
and muttered a word that sounded vaguely like “Meshuggeneh.”

Carefully, the Foreman handed the coin over to the spiritually connected
kobold. “Then kobolds will place coin with other shineys on shrine.”

“Speaking of coin, would it be possible for me to either purchase or
commission a poka pole to keep”” asked the Drow. “It has been
exceedingly useful.”

“Certainly, that will be no problem, how much ya got,” the kobold who
seemed to be managing the supply room for the Upwinders asked hopefully?

“Paradoxically, too much and not enough depending on the path,” Laquendi
answered cryptically. “Would ten times as much as the cost of a
conventional standard ten-foot pole be sufficient?”

“A pittance? You offer a pittance for this,” the kobold exclaimed with
relish, wailing as if he’d been stabbed. “Look at the fine kobold
craftsmanship! And the attachments, we’ve put a LOT of engineering work
into those, you know. I couldn’t possibly settle for less than 250 GOLD,
I gotta put fresh rat on the table for my family!”

“I was unaware that the rats must come from a noble house and be dipped
in platinum,” the Drow gamely countered. “For a twenty-foot Poka Pole
with an interchangeable hook and basket I can go no lower than three
hundred.”

“Sold! And for cash I’ll throw in a complete selection of ALL our
attachments,” the astonished kobold announced, unable to hide his glee.
He quickly started piling the counter full of the most amazing
assortment of hooks, adaptors, brushes, clamps which could be remotely
controlled by a pulled line, shears which could cut small branches
activated by a similar long cord, saws, fruit harvesting accessories,
window squeegees, and a whole assortment of ‘experimental’ attachments
complete with customer feedback forms to be returned to ‘Upwinder Labs’.
All written in draconic using Iokharic runes, of course, but that was
hardly an insurmountable obstacle to giving the kobolds insight into
whether their equipment actually performed as designed.

To this collection of attachments - and of course the Poke Pole™ deal -
Laquendi removed a single gold ear-stud with a bright stone and handed
it over, along with its back.

“I have to admit we’ve not worked all the bugs out of the remote
controlled lockpicks,” the kobold sighed. “One of those ideas that
seemed great when somebody brought it up, but just doesn’t work as well
in the field as in the labs. I’m Sergeant Aumuhzahn, by the way. A
pleasure doing business with ya! Any other fine products of Upwinder
Industries we can interest you in? Send your friends over, too, maybe I
got somethin’ for them, too.”

A rather embarrassed Finfin stepped forward. “I might need a few things,
sergeant,” he stated quietly.

“We gotcha covered, Cap’n!” the kobold supply sergeant replied easily.
“For the right price, of course. What’cha need?”

“Well,” the elf began, “I have been made painfully aware that I am
deficient in silken rope.”

“That much is true,” Laquendi opined. To the Cat Priestess, the silver
haired elf added, “Leave it to the women to have one, am I right, Jeyshann?`

"Every woman should keep a nice flexible rope near at hand," Jeyshann
purred.

“No problem!” Sergeant Aumuhzahn replied expansively. “Happen to have
some on hand. 45 gold per 50 feet.”

Lomi sidled up to the elf, and did not even attempt to keep her input
from being heard. “Book value is 10 gold per 50 feet, Cap’n.”

“Yeah?” the supply sergeant snarled. “Well, girly, there ain’t no store
called ‘Book’ here, only me, and 45’s the price.”

“I quite understand,” Finfin mused, and began to turn away. Mithi would
have serious words with him if he spent four and a half times book value
for something that the two of them could replace on their next visit to
civilization… or buy directly from the Pussycats.

“Hang on, Fin!” Tramma interjected. “It looks like there is a
fascinating parallel between kobold society and so many human ones, most
notably, among various subsects of the Kyrenes. In these societies, it
is considered the cultural norm for the seller to set an unreasonably
high price, and for seller and buyer to argue good naturedly until a
mutually acceptable deal can be reached. The convergent social practices
are really QUITE fascinating. I’d love to devote some more time to
studying…”

“FOCUS, Songbird,” Lomi interrupted.

“No, no, go right ahead, Silverhair,” Sergeant Aumuhzahn interjected in
a kindly tone. “You go right ahead and orate in such a lovely fashion
all you want, I got nothin’ but time.”

Tramma blinked, and far from looking annoyed at her old friend, gave
Lomi an embarrassed smile. “Focus, right.” Turning back to the elven
officer, she asked, “May I bargain on your behalf?”

“By all means.”

The supply sergeant was not looking terribly pleased with this
development, and was even less pleased when Tramma turned to him and
said, “My friend here is supporting a FINE young lady with expensive
tastes in spells, and could not POSSIBLY pay another penny over 5 gold a
section.”

“FIVE GOLD?!?” the sergeant exploded. “I liked you a lot better
unfocused and lecturing! Why, at that price, I’d be better off using the
rope to hang myself! Me, AND my family; better that than letting them
STARVE! I could not possibly see my way below 40.”

And back and forth they argued, each one skillfully escalating to ever
increasing levels of histrionics. Finally, when it looked like murder
itself was about to be exchanged, the two halted, and nodded.

“Fifteen,” the sergeant said grudgingly.

“Fifteen,” Tramma agreed, and the two shook on it, human hand meeting
kobold claw. And at Tramma’s nod, Finfin handed over the requisite
coins, still worried at how paying a 50% premium would get him into a
bit of trouble back home.

“Don’t worry about Mithi,” Tramma whispered to him over her recently
reactivated Speak With Allies spell. “I’ll explain it all to her, and
show her how the extra price bump was worth establishing a cultural
common ground.”

“Anything else the elf wishes to buy?” Sergeant Aumuhzahn asked, his
voice silkily smooth.

Finfin shook his head. “I would be afraid to ask about arrows.”

“Big arrows for elfs and humans?” he asked sceptically, and then
provided his own answer. “That would have to be a special order. Which
is possible, but would require a special service fee. And a holding fee,
a Use Tax, dealer surcharge…” He was rubbing his claws together in glee
as his mind racked up all of the additional charges.

“Or,” Lomi interjected, “he could just continue to borrow some of mine.”

The supply sergeant sniffed. “Well, that is certainly true. But when you
run out of arrows for both of you, you know where to find me.” He then
cocked his head, considering a new notion. “You wouldn’t be in the need
of crossbow bolts, now would you? We just got a shipment in of genuine
Plains Tribe crossbow bolts, only used once, and I could let you have a
volume discount.”

“Oh, the Hunter’s padded paws,” Lomi rolled her eyes. “Not THOSE guys
again.”

“I think it’s fascinating that their trade network reaches this far,”
Tramma announced brightly. “I mean, here we are in the middle of the
kobold-formed swampland that the other tribes shun, and-”

“What ARE you two on about,” Jeyshann asked suspiciously.

“Am I right that you bargained for those bolts from a travelling Hakawa
salesman,” Tramma asked curiously?

“Huh, how did you know,” Sergeant Aumuhzahn asked guardedly. “We ARE a
clandestine operation, ya know, and there’s not that many people who we
can trust enough to keep it on the down low. I may have to check
regulations, we might have to (reluctantly) kill ya or something because
you know that. Though I’ve begun to suspect that shyster ripped me off,
so maybe I can overlook that and we can work something out on the prices
of the rest of whatcha want.”

“Let’s call it a lucky guess,” Lomi smirked. “Is there ANYBODY on these
plains those guys haven’t ripped off?”