They say to make it in Maulkir, you need three things: a goal, a way to make money, and a dragon to be your patron. Well, Rue couldn’t say for sure how well all three worked together, but just a goal by itself seemed to not be the key element of ‘making it,’ whatever the definition of THAT might be.
It wasn’t even his goal, but that's besides the point.
Still, he was making enough at some pick up spellwork to get by, with a bit extra to indulge in his addiction. It wasn’t drugs or alcohol or anything like that. He’d tried what Maulkir had to offer since getting to the place and hadn’t been impressed.
He slid the coins into the slot as Hindrance made inquisitive noises. The little creature was curious about a lot of things, and his feeding of the shineys into the big glowy box was certainly worth his notice. A telepathic message from the creatures wormed its way into Rue’s mind, the feeling of satisfaction of cracking open an egg and eating the innards, followed by a burst of raw curiosity. A way for a creature that spoke in emotions to ask if this was as satisfying.
Rue moved the pseudodragon to the other shoulder. He didn’t answer the creature, and just reached into the deposit slot for his prize. It was a simple and cheap tier zero pack. The odds of it having anything decent were slim, but not zero. That was the more likely outcome, however, but hope springs eternal. And for 15 gold, well, it could be worth it.
Rue fumbled with the waxed paper covering his prize and fanned the three cards out in front of him. The first was more than a dud. Another Thorn whip. He had a few of those already. The second was another level zero card, Message. A handy little spell, but not worth much. It could maybe sweeten a trade, but by itself, it was probably only worth a gold or two.
The third card was a bit more valuable. Improved True Strike. The base value in trade of a level 1 card was 10 gold, and this one in particular was quite useful. Like its name suggested, it guided a strike past defenses and dodges, to hit when it would otherwise miss. The kind of spell that could change the tide in a fight.
Rue had no intentions of ever being in a fight, so cards good only for combat he immediately traded off. And this one? He could probably get 30 gold for it, if not more. True Strike was one of those cards that the Cardcrafter wasn’t pleased with, so changed up the core spell every now and then, as it sought perfection. This was the newer version, meaning some of the completionist collectors might be looking for it, even if it was just a level 1. The higher the level, the rarer the card. Rue still had the only level 3 card he’d ever opened.
There were better packs, with different rarities. The Vend Boxes like this one had tier one and tier two. A tier one pack was 50 gold, and was guaranteed to not have any zero level cards in it. If you had the coin to spend, rumor had it that the Coastal Spell Card Makers had tier five packs that they would sell, each card guaranteed to be of level five or above.
With a sigh of longing at the thought, Rue put his new cards in his vest pocket. He fingered his money pouch, looking at the vending box. Technically, he could afford another pack, but that would leave him with a single gold and a handful of lesser coins. Enough for a meal tonight, but breakfast might be a scrounge. He could stretch dinner, maybe save a slice of bread…
A feeling of displeasure arrived from Hindrance and he grimaced. The creature was right. There were better things to do with his coin. The cards would be there tomorrow.
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The Vend Boxes, built and maintained by the Clocktower, provide some useful goods and services to the citizens, without the need for interacting with a person. They work through some classified method, some sort of synchronized storage teleportation network, that allows the boxes themselves to have no inventory, nor storage for the coins inserted. Money inserted vanishes, and products ordered just appear. Distributors arrange to get a related box that they can maintain supply in.
For the consumer, it means that if one Vend Box is out of Goodberry Brew, then all of them are. Or, conversely-wise, as long as there’s Goodberry Brew somewhere in the city, it’s everywhere in the city. Well, everywhere that is tuned to that product. Whatever process that creates the Vend Boxes connects them to the currently available products. New deals mean new Vend Boxes with more options. Replacing the old boxes is expensive, and is only done when the leasing agent, the one who owns the location the Vend Box is set, decides it's profitable.
All in all, this aside should demonstrate that Vend Boxes are a common sight in Maulkir, although for aesthetic reasons, they’re normally put in out of the sight places, in little alleys and back streets, as opposed to being part of the main vision of the constructing architect. So it wasn’t until he left the Vend Box and headed back to the street that he saw the CSF officer waiting for him, arms folded as he leaned against the retaining wall, a soft jingle as she tapped against her chainmail.
She straightened when she saw him, and a predatory smile grew on her elven face, a smile that felt familiar to Rue, although he wouldn’t be able to say why.
“Rue Netheroak?” she asked. “We want to ask you a few questions.
Rue ran.
Back down the alley, Hindrance hanging on to his shoulder projecting glee at the excitement. The alley had a second exit, around the other side of the Residence of Youth, opening out near the Mytair Market. The Market was a great place to lose a pursuer.
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That was the plan, at least, before an arm of amethyst shot out in front of him catching him in the chest. His feet shot out from under him, and the pseudodragon was left flapping in the air amid the cards falling like leaves around him.
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He didn’t think he had been out for long, maybe a second or two. His recovery from things like this was pretty quick, since he got Hindrance. But he’d passed out enough that both of the CS Fers were standing above him, the elf flipping through his spell cards, the dragonborn cooing to Hindrance, scratching the traitorous menace on his eye ridges.
Rue ran through his options. There were all sorts of ways he could play it, including running again. They caught him out this time, but he still had a trick or two up his sleeve, even with his cards in the guard’s possession. He’d have to leave the cards behind, and getting Hinderance away from them would be showing off secrets that were more useful hidden, but he could do it.
But they knew his name, and where to find him well enough to guard the back. He’d have to really change up his haunts if he wanted to not get harassed, and that took coin. And most of his worth was tied up in the cards in the brown-haired elf’s hands.
Which meant the better option would be to change tacks completely.
“Greetings officers, how can I help you this evening?” Rue made no attempt to get up, staying on his back on the street. It made him look more pitiful, more likely that some passerby might see the scene and lend a hand. Not that anyone one in New Draconis would likely interrupt a Vishy kicking a tohledi when he was down, but a man could dream.
The elf stopped flipping through the cards and looked down at him with a raised eyebrow. “You sound rather helpful for someone so quick to run from the law. What are you guilty of?”
“Nothing at the moment, officer” replied Rue gamely “although if the price is right, I can claim any guilt you need. I’ve no obligations for the time being, so I’m willing to talk terms.”
“Well, it’s mighty convenient that you’re at loose ends, as we’re looking to hire someone of your set of skills.”
Rue frowned. “What skills? I mean, I can do some things, but no one would ever confuse me for an adept or anything.”
A boot, its odd shape designed for the taloned foot inside, pressed down on his chest. The weight on his body was worrisome, and the feeling of tension from Hindrance was worse. A part of Rue’s mind, the unconscious part that didn’t let him think of certain things too hard, was on edge.
“Street wizard, are you of the Hidden Claw?”
Okay, an expected question. The CSF and the Hidden Claw were enemies, as lawkeepers and thieves guilds were natural opponents in any civilized world. Rue had been very interested in meeting up with the Hidden Claw when he had first heard of them, but they had proved to be very, well, hidden. He’d had no success in shaking up a contact.
Of course, being innocent and convincing a dragonborn who quite literally has you under her boot of your innocence are two different things.
“I’m not, officer. I’ve never spoken to anyone of that heinous group, as far as I know.”
His honest and direct answer didn’t seem to buy him any credit with the pair, which, to be fair, he expected. Luckily, he had an ace up his sleeve. Well, they had been up his sleeve.
“Madam elf, since you seem to have found my spellcards that I so foolishly dropped, there should be one or two labeled Zone of Truth? Activating that, centering the effect on myself, would likely clear up any lingering mistrust?”
The elven woman searched through the cards in a manner suggesting she had never held a deck of cards before. Finally, she found one of his precious Tier two cards. Her fingers looked practiced here, as she held the card out and read the activation phrase. The card ignited in light and Rue felt the spell wash over him and latch on to his soul.
“Right. As I said, I have never knowingly spoken to a member of the Hidden Claw. Is that sufficient?”
The purple Vishy looked to her partner, who nodded. The weight of the boot was removed and Rue began the slightly painful process of sitting up. Hindrance had flown up to the top of the wall, out of range of the spell. He was always good about being out of the way of things like that. Annoyingly clever. Rue rubbed at his chest, likely bruised from the vishy’s scaled arm, and then the back of his head. A bit tender, but no blood on his fingers. Banged up, but otherwise okay. And he said as much to the officers.
“Your ambush has appeared not to have overly harmed me, but it's hard to tell-” He clamped his hands over his mouth as the truth came bubbling out a bit freer than he had intended. He waited until the desire to share that truth faded and tried again.
“My apologies, officers. We’re still in the active area of the spell. If we could move away from this place, it would make it possible for me to speak to you in a civil way that won’t get me slapped. I mean, with the proper deference that your jobs require before you hit people. I mean, would it be possible for us to move over there for a lot of reasons that I don’t want to talk about but will if asked.”
The dragonborn scowled, but the elven woman smiled as she handed over his cards, gently grabbing his upper arm and moving him to the edge of the spell’s area. His head felt immediately better and he looked down in time to see a glow of light on her hands fading.
“That seems like a useful spell, wizard. How much does a card like that cost?”
If Rue had been two steps further forward, he would have begun spinning a tale of the rarity of the card, of the efforts he had gone to to acquire them, the vast sum of gold he had sacrificed to clear his name with the lovely pair, and how much he would lower himself to accept in recompense and the price of his other copy of the card.
Unfortunately, he was not those two steps forward.
“I got lucky with a few of the cheap packs. Street value would be forty golds, but I’d be trying to convince you they were more like four hundred to guilt you into paying me and ripping you off in selling the other one.”
His cheeks went red as he clapped his hands over his mouth again. The elf and dragonborn grinned and the traitorous little pseudodragon sniggered from his place outside of the spell’s radius.
“Well, let’s talk about compensation. It wasn’t really chance that we found you today, Mr. Netheroak…”