In My Experience There's No Such Thing as Luck [Day 7, Mid-Afternoon, Fortune, Open]

[Ikkit the Bastard]

Ikkit had heard a few of the local addle-coves were looking to have their fortunes told.

Having already rated fortunetelling as worth less than the intestines of a single cranium rat, and his opinion of the Godsmen being generally less favorable than his opinion of beings literally made out of raw evil, he wasn't too interested.

And of course, it stood to reason that the pyramid-scheming berks would run this little game in the Lady's Ward, because all of the smug serenity on the Great Wheel wouldn't keep them safe in the Hive or Lower Wards... and besides, going down among the commoners they claimed to want to lift up would be too much like actually adhering to their stated principles.

So Ikkit the Bastard sat on the periphery, and watched the crowds going over, drinking from the fountain, and accepting some barmy "wisdom" from a person convinced she was on the path to godhood.

It was the craziest thing he had ever seen, and his work and his guild recruitment efforts took him into the Hive all of the time.

[Makeshift]

Something moves, in the periphery of Ikkit's eyes...

...



"She... Eats... Future..."

Ignaeus rises slightly from the ground. Strange. You could have sworn it was just a pile of rags... Apparently something else was there too. Ignaeus' one eye (the one you can see anyhow) flicks to Ikkit, and then back down into the dark between gutters.

[[Make me a perception roll, my good Goblin.]]

[Ikkit the Bastard]

"You again? Funny. Figured she was sellin' it."

[Orokos is a harsh mistress. Perception Check for Prophetic Weirdo!: 1d20+6 12]

[Makeshift]

"Hrn.... No. She eats... Future... She sells... Information. Badly told... Sloppy. Sound, not blood nor flesh."

Your perception (although it could be better) spots something dark wet and red, in the folds of Ignaeus' rags. He's got guts he's poking at again. Small ones. Rat? No... Too big for that. Not big enough for a fully grown human though.

[Ikkit the Bastard]

"Well. Figure it for some kinda hustle."

His ears flicked contemptuously as he surveyed the crowd.

"Typical Godsman crap."

Somehow, seeing this hooded nightmare he'd first met at the Ditch in the Lady's Ward was... pleasant for him.

[Makeshift]

"Hustle... Plebeian... But true..."

He pokes something in that thing in his robes again, a sick squalching sound.

"Godsmen... Morsels... Sad... Fattening themselves up... The Powers are gluttonous..."

He sneers himself.

"Well then... Small, uncouth thing... I am... Festive. Much seen... Much known now... Do you wish some charity? I... Could give small future... You see truths, after all..."

[Ikkit the Bastard]

"Got no rats, cutter, but if yer offerin', sure."

[Illiam'iira]

Having caught the rare sight of a one mister the Bastard in the Lady's Ward, a certain drow made a beeline for him...

But Illi pauses where she is -- a bit a ways away -- seeing something so large take shape to loom over Ikkit. And then she hears it speak, and the goblin's reply. He doesn't seem angrier than usual, and it's not aimed at the ... person... he's talking to. Her body relaxing, Illi tries to get his attention with a gesture -- should I leave you alone?

[Makeshift]

"Got no rats, cutter, but if yer offerin', sure."

Ignaeus takes a strand of something wet and red out of the cadaver he's been picking at. He holds it at eye-level and scrutinizes it intently. His voice, once again, takes that aristocratic twang... He seems more centered.

"I see hooks and pinpricks. Chains and locks and keys thrown away... The looming shadow of balance is closer again. A lie, cast, a certainty foretold. See, tiny child of pain, see what leaks through the wounds of the earth?"

He pauses.

"There is something in the earth. Something large and twisting. And it loves you. So very much."

Then he casts the wet red thing away, and seems to fall back down to the ground, to pick over the leftovers.

Ignaeus casts a glance at Illi. Then back to the charnel.

[Ikkit the Bastard]

Ikkit waved the drow over.

"And a'course y'ain't gonna say if it loves me like I love my work or if it loves me like I love a tasty rat skull... well. Can't say as I didn't get what I paid for."


[Applying event rules here- Prophecy Roll, Using Event Rules, Perception, going Hard, DC 20: 1d20+6 17 Yeah, Ikkit and Prophecy remain oil and water

EDIT: With Illi's Bardici Inspiration added in- I got barded!: 1d10 9

For a total of 26, meaning Ikkit passes with flying colors ]