H1: Introduction

This was the email I sent prior to our first session to set the game tone. In the actual game, each character had their own very similar conversation with Glipkerio. Nikkit is a goblin NPC that I had made up as a placeholder until the players sent me their characters. Gwarfank has pretty much taken his place in the storyline.

Glipkerio dismissively waves his corpulent, greasy hand over the tray of sweetmeats, indicating you may eat them. Clearly, this man understands that a goblin cannot concentrate on business matters when there is potentially free food about. With cautious sidelong glances at the menacing enforcers who flank you, you grab the plate and noisily clean it. "Good, eh Nikkit? Enjoy it, I think it will be nothing but hardtack and jerky for you for a while eh? See Nikkit – something has happened to one of our shipments up north and we need to find out what. But I can't send my men, oh no nonono. It can't be someone that Ool Yesugai would know. That would make him worry, eh? Better this way then."

Glipkerio leans forward and his waxen, sweaty face glistens in the light of the smoky brazier. "But you, Nikkit, no one knows you eh? Nikkit's clean – a hard gobbo to be sure eh, but he watches out for his own and keeps clear." He then smiles. "But I know you turned One Tooth Fik's list, eh? Did you make good coin on that, Nikkit? No? That's too bad. You embarrassed a lot of people, made them angry. I'd have hoped it would have been worth it."

"But I can make things alright with Fik and his pervs, Nikkit. I hear you've moved your bed beneath the floorboards, eh! Poor Nikkit. You'll be able to sleep again, no dagger beneath your pillow. Poor Nikkit. Do this little thing for me and you'll be Nikkit the Clean again, eh?"

Poor Nikkit, indeed. You thread your way through the dark alleys of Sharn, flat bare feet slapping the wet cobblestones, making your way to the Eel Gate to meet Glipkerio the Merchant's fixers. Glipkerio the Fat. Glipkerio the Greedy. Glipkerio the underboss of the Stink District whose swollen fingers try to touch every coin, every ballot, and every person that passes within his turf. You always were a goblin known for a sharp wit and a sharper dagger, always kept your nose clean and did right. Well, mostly. Exceptional for a goblin, really. But the dirt and the filth and evil of Sharn still closes in around you.