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Premature Plans 1

Sam Siezmoll, a level 5 mage rogue was relaxing in one of the guild lounges when Mage McSmeagol, looking somewhat disgruntled, walked in and looked around. Hmm, I wonder what’s got him riled up? The lounge was about 30 feet across with 4 carved beams in the room corners that rose and met in the middle of the ceiling. Various mage lights hung from hooks lighting up the room while bookshelves occupied two walls. Sam palmed a small wooden listening disk and sent his unseen servant over to the bar on the third wall to fetch a drink on a coaster.

McSmeagol started walking over to one of the curtained booths next to the bar and ducked inside. Sam took the drink from his servant and then sent him back to the bar near the booth with the coaster, the listening disk concealed under it and its magical signature hidden by the magic of the servant. Now let’s see what’s happening. Anything that’s got McSmeagol put out should be good business for me. Pulling out a journal and a reference book, he appeared to be just another mage studying. Everything the disk heard was being written down in the journal while the sound was passed onto Sam as he held the book.

McSmeagol: I tell you Carl, I think we’re in for a period of turbulence. I haven’t been so surprised since that dragon was swatted out of the sky. It’s got me flustered.

Carl: You? Why? Surely the detectives were able to give you some leads. Or are they being greedy? How much did they ask to investigate this for us?

McSmeagol: That’s the thing Carl. In fact, not only did they know about the recent rash of magic items, but they already had a report ready for the guild which they gave me.

Carl: Wow, I guess they really are the best at what they do. So how much did they charge?

McSmeagol: Nothing, in gold that is.

Carl: What! Why? Are they trying to curry favor?

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McSmeagol: I wish. No, it seems that not only do they know who is crafting these items, but they have allied with them. Their price for the report was that the guild provides a venue within the week where the inventor could display and explain their crafting methods and inventions.

Okay, now this is getting good. I knew there was a sudden increase in certain magical items, but this, this is interesting. Sam quickly glanced around to make sure no one was spying on him and then eagerly continued listening.

Carl: What! How did that happen?

McSmeagol: What happened was that they were ready for the guild to send a representative and put together a presentation that pretty much forced me to agree to their price. The new method of enchanting behind these items is called Magi-Tech. But instead of just showing it to us, they want to show it to everyone, including mundanes. The venue must be open to the public. Worse, we need to provide security for the event.

Carl: That doesn’t make sense. Why would they want to demonstrate magic to mundanes? Only Spellcasters and classes that use magic can use most magic items and the cost is far outside what a baker or butcher makes.

McSmeagol: That’s just it though. Not only are the items well made and useful, but they can be used by anyone! And the cost! Let’s just say I have no idea how they’re going to make a profit.

What! Sam exclaimed mentally, echoed by Carl in the booth. That’s revolutionary! I need to get ahold of some of those items, but how? Noticing the bartender reaching for the coaster as he prepared to serve another customer, Sam mentally commanded the disk under it to turn into dust. Closing his journal and gathering up his items, he was distracted by a shout, quickly silenced from the booth. I wonder what that was about? Oh well, I’m sure I’ll hear about it soon. Shrugging, he left to talk to his contacts in the thieves guild.

A minute earlier….

Carl: I’m not sure whether we should cheer the inventor on, after locking him into an exclusive contract with us of course or kill him! This is going to be big news, either way.

McSmeagol: Well, you can forget about killing him, because I met him and we all know what he’s capable of.

Carl: Who?

McSmeagol: Quickfoot! The Blur Archimage!

Carl: WHAT!

McSmeagol: My thoughts exactly. Well. Let’s go tell the guild master. At least it promises to be interesting.

Carl: And possibly deadly.

McSmeagol: Yeah, considering his reputation, that too.