Pathfinder – Shadow in the Sky: the Harrowed

[Ambrus]

Pathfinder – Shadow in the Sky: the Harrowed

Second Darkness:
Shadow in the Sky
- The Harrowed -​

Of late, an ominous shadow has loomed over the City of Cyphers. While scholars theorize and theologians pray for divine guidance, would be prognosticators continue to spout ill omens of doom. But what might be the truth of the matter, and do any of the scoundrels of Riddleport even care? Perhaps not, as the talk of the town is the infernally themed gambling tournament about to take place at the recently refurbished Gold Goblin gambling hall. There seems to be no lack of treasure seekers willing to wager their souls for a chance to "Cheat the Devil and Take his Gold". Will you be amongst them?


[imager]http://img53.imageshack.us/img53/728/banderay.jpg[/imager]Welcome to Riddleport, City of Cyphers

The third largest city in all Varisia, Riddleport is also the most notorious. Once a secret pirate haven, Riddleport has grown over the last three centuries into a port city in its own right. At first it served as a den of piracy, but over time the city has expanded into a true settlement, the frontier’s frontier, the Northernmost outpost on the lonely strip known as the Lost Coast. Yet while Riddleport has grown into a proper city, it remains true to its roots—you can get rich quick in Riddleport if you’ve got skill and a bit of luck. Yet, for every Riddleport success story, there are a dozen nameless bodies buried in potters’ fields or tossed to the hungry denizens of the sea.

Population : 13,300 (77% human, 7% dwarf, 5% half-elf, 4% half-orc, 3% tiefling, 2% halfling, 1% gnome, 1% other)


The Cyphergate

The enigmatic Cyphergate looms large over Riddleport's harbor, a constant reminder of the transience of life and even civilization, since few can even imagine what society might have raised this architectural wonder. The arch rises 350 feet above the water below, rising from the rocky crags on either side of the harbor mouth; a distance of nearly 700 feet. Its nigh indestructible surface bears massive runes and glyphs, which have thwarted the best attempts to decipher their meaning for centuries. Mages and scholars belonging to the vaunted Order of Cyphers have nevertheless dedicated themselves to unraveling the massive gate's eldritch purpose.

[sblock=Riddleport Map]

1. The Gold Goblin Gambling Hall
2. Velashu Ferry
3. Publican House (Temple of Cayden Cailean)
4. Cypher Lodge
5. Zincher's Arena
6. Gas Forges
7. St. Caspieran's Mission
8. Riddleport Light
9. House of the Silken Veil (Temple of Calistria)
10. The Fish Bowl (Temple of Besmara)
11. Mystery of the Gate Inn & Tavern
12. Lymas Smeed's Townhouse
13. Zincher's Tenement
14. Boss Croat's Compound
15. The River Runner Inn
16. City Mortuary
17. The Drunken Lurch Pub
18. Bent Trace Futurities[/sblock][Sblock= Riddleport Slang]Abbess: A priestess or whore of Calistria
Bridge Monkey: Someone from Magnimar
Capp: A trusted lieutenant or henchman
Cattle: A group of Varisians
Cow: A Varisian
Church Work: Any lengthy job that is slow to finish or is otherwise drudgery
Dog Biter: A large rat, small child, or halfling
Earth Bath: An unmarked grave
Easy Lad: A male prostitute
Fancyboy/Fancygirl: A cyphermage (sometimes an elf )
Gendarme: A city guard
Grog-Blossom: A facial pimple, or an unsavory person
Hushman: A hired killer, generally one kept on semipermanent retainer
Kiss: To stab someone—“Kissed the snickersnak” is a phrase used to mean “Got murdered”
Laced Mutton: A prostitute (gender neutral)
Leaky: Someone who can’t keep a secret (“Don’t tell him about the heist—he’s leaky!”)
Lumber: A passenger on a ship (typically an unwanted or unwelcome passenger)
Pigeon: A person targeted by a criminal to be the victim of a crime, or a person that visits a prostitute
Pigmeat: A dead body, or someone who is about to become dead
Pump-Sucker: A dwarf (particularly one who works at the Gas Forges)
Quickwife: A female prostitute
Rathole: The mouth (especially a mouth that belongs to someone who is saying unwelcome things)
Rotgut: Liquor (particularly foul-tasting liquor)
Sideshow: A tiefling
Snickersnak: A small knife that can be easily hidden on a person’s body
Soaker: A priest of Cayden Cailean
Soggy Plum: A drunk
Whisker: A wererat[/Sblock][/QUOTE]

 

[CanadienneBacon]

Girri
Female Human (varisian) Cleric 4 (Pharasma)
N Medium humanoid (human)
Init +8; Senses Perception +2
Languages Common, Varisian, Thassilonian
–––––––––––––––––––––––––
AC 15, touch 12, flat-footed 13
hp 24 (4d8 HD)
Fort +4, Ref +4, Will +6
–––––––––––––––––––––––––
Spd 30 ft.
Melee bladed scarf +4 (1d6+1/19-20/10-ft. reach)
or dagger +4 (1d4+1/19-20)
Ranged dagger +5 (1d4+1/19-20)
Base Atk +3; Combat Maneuver Bonus +4
Spells-Like Abilities (CL 4th):
At will–detect magic, detect magic, guidance, light
2/day–comprehend languages, cure light wounds
1/day–detect thoughts, lesser restoration
Spells Prepared (CL 4th): 4/4/3
2nd–enthrall, make whole, silence
1st–doom, magic stone, obscuring mist, sanctuary
–––––––––––––––––––––––––
Abilities Str 12, Dex 14, Con 10, Int 14, Wis 15, Chr 14
SQ channel energy, rebuke death, lore keeper, spontaneous casting
Feats Martial Weapon Proficiency (scimitar), Harrowed, Improved Initiative, Exotic Weapon Proficiency (bladed scarf)
Traits Into Enemy Territory, Reactionary
Skills Diplomacy +6, Knowledge (arcana) +6, Knowledge (history) +6,
Knowledge (local) +7, Knowledge (planes) +6, Knowledge (religion) +9,
Perception +2, Sense Motive +7, Sleight of Hand +3, Spellcraft +9, Stealth +3, Profession (fortune teller) +7
Possessions studded leather armor, bladed scarf, daggers x2, entertainer's
outfit, backpack, pocketed scarf, harpy musk, wooden holy symbol of Pharasma,
waterskin
–––––––––––––––––––––––––
Treasure 0 platinum crowns, 25 gold sails, 0 silver shields
Experience 6,000
–––––––––––––––––––––––––
Channel Energy (Su) Girri may unleash a wave of positive energy
in a 30-ft burst. All undead in this radius take 1d6 points of positive
energy damage plus 1d6 points of positive energy damage for every
two cleric levels she has attained beyond 1st (1d6 at 1st level, 2d6
at 3rd, 3d6 at 5th, and so on) and must flee from her (as if frightened)
for 1d4 rounds + her Charisma modifier. Undead in this radius are
allowed a Will save that negates the frightened condition and results
in half damage. The DC of this save is equal to 10 + 1/2 her cleric
level + her Charisma modifier. Undead who take damage greater than
their hit points crumble to dust and are destroyed by the power of
Pharasma. If a fleeing undead is subject to channeled negative energy,
it is not controlled, but does receive a new saving throw to dispel the
flee effect. Living creatures within the area are healed a like amount
by this wave of positive energy. Girri can choose whether or not to
include herself in this effect. Hit points gained above a living creature's
total are lost.

Lore Keeper (Su) Girri can touch a creature to learn about its abilities
and weaknesses as a melee touch attack. If successful, she gains
information as if she had made the appropriate Knowledge skill check
with a result equal to 10 + her caster level + her Intelligence modifier.

Rebuke Death (Su) Girri can touch a creature as a standard action,
healing it of 1d4 points of damage plus 1 for every two caster levels
she possesses. She can only use this ability on a creature that is below
0 hit points. If she touches an undead creature with this effect, it is
shaken for a number of rounds equal to her caster level.

[sblock=Harrowed]Numerous Harrow readings early in your life seem to have
hit the mark precisely, increasing your belief that you are
destined for a specific purpose in life; the Harrow deck and
your destiny seem intertwined.

Prerequisites: Cha 13, must be chosen at 1st level
Benefit: You get a +2 bonus on all Will saves made to
resist charm or compulsion effects.

Once per day, you may draw a card from a Harrow
deck you own. At any one time for the rest of that day,
you may apply a +2 bonus on any d20 roll modified by the
card’s suit. For example, if you drew a card from the suit
of Wisdom, you may apply a +2 bonus on a Will save or a
Wisdom-based skill check. If you drew a card from the suit
of Dexterity, you could apply this +2 bonus on an Initiative
check, a Reflex save, a Dexterity-based skill check, or a
ranged attack roll. You may assign this +2 bonus after you
make the roll, but you must do so before you know if the
roll was a success or not.

If you don’t have an actual Harrow deck handy to
draw from to determine your bonus, you can randomly
determine the ability score by simply rolling 1d6 (1 =
Strength, 2 = Constitution, 3 = Dexterity, 4 = Intelligence,
5 = Wisdom, 6 = Charisma).[/sblock]
[sblock=Appearance]Girri is attractive, if somewhat hard-looking. Dark brown hair flows freely and frames strong blue eyes that are both quick and calculating--when not shrouded in a Shiver-induced fever. Girri dresses to reveal her best physical assets: a flat stomach, lean legs, and strong shoulders. Girri makes her living selling fortunes on the street to passers-by ; she knows as well as anyone that a comely lass attracts more coin than does a girl with homely wares. Better to be pretty and have gold in your pocket but suffer the winter chill than be broke. Girri dresses in layers of colorful scarves, beneath which she sports piecemeal leather armor. It was hard work stealing all that armor a piece at a time off drunk and wanton men.
Height 5-ft. 10-in. Weight 125 lbs Age 26 years[/sblock][sblock=Personality]Girri has a quick smile and likes a joke as well as anyone but guards herself against those who try to worm their conniving way past her many outward defenses (her sense of humor and ready charm not the least of these). Despite a mirthful exterior, Girri is at heart a cynic. The world has burned her one too many times and she is slow to trust. Troubling dreams over the course of the last year, unknowingly sent to her by the Goddess Pharasma, have born in Girri an insatiable thirst for knowledge of the occult—death, dying, mystery, ancient history, the Blot have all lingered large and long in Girri’s recent thoughts.[/sblock][sblock=Background]Born of a Varisian mother in the haberdashery district of Riddleport, Girri learned the ways of the hard streets at an early age; the best pick-pocketing is done as a pretty girl in the temple district on worship-day morning, warm bread for one's belly is more quickly obtained by stealing it than by kneading it oneself, men are fools for women, and trouble comes to those overly finicky about their next bed and meal. For folk who delight in ill-gotten gain, the chancery of life, and the occasional dabble in the occult, Riddleport is a lay-about's paradise. Some 20 years ago--by the best estimate of Mother Crone of Bent Trace Futurities--Girri was given over to the Futurities shop by one [INSERT EVIL VILLIAN], who himself had stolen Girri from her indigent mother. Likely [INSERT EVIL VILLIAN] found Girri unsuitable for work as one of his street kids and sought to profit from her in whatever way he could. Since being sold into slavery to the stoop-backed Mother Crone, Girri has served as shop dandy. Sweeping the floor, preparing the old Crone's gruel, polishing the seer's "reliquary" on display in the reading room, hawking for customers--such was Girri's life until last autumn. By saving the occasional tip dropped by a customer (gone unnoticed by the old lady) and honest street thieving, Girri bough her freedom from Mother Crone and, leaving the Futurities shop on Bent Trace, set off for the Riddleport docks in the middle district hoping to ply the tidbits of fate-telling she'd gleaned over the years.

Without a roof over her head, the winter got the better of Girri. When the half-orc Jasker Gant found her one night in a dank hole-in-the-wall taproom, Girri has already fallen to Consumption. Jasker’s promise that a little Shiver would warm her sounded good to Girri, so she paid with what little coin she had. True to his word, the Shiver made Girri feel warmer. The hard truth, however, was that the drug gave the girl a false sense of well-being. Cold, on the streets in the dead of winter, and down to her last coins, Girri took to overnighting in taverns near the docks. She struggled through the cold by garbing herself in flimsy silk scarves normally reserved for picking pockets and selling herself to dockworkers, sailors, porters, and taproom clientele for enough coin to buy either a warm bed or another bit of Shiver. When Jasker raised the price of dose, Girri found herself without means to maintain her addiction and so was forcibly retired from use. Weakened by sickness and haggard to the bone by the price of her "freedom," Girri has a bone to pick with the half-orc that may result in the villain's head in a sewer.[/sblock]

 

[Ambrus]

Late afternoon, 14th day of Arodus, AR 4708

The shadows within the City of Cyphers grow ominously long as the sun dips towards the Calphiak mountains to the west of Riddleport. Pausing to look up, the dark haired Varisian woman studies the shadow in the sky as she has countless times over the past few weeks. It is currently floating above the harbour to the south. Girri draws her scarf more tightly around her shoulders to ward off the late Arodus chill as she turns away. Moving quickly along the bustling streets, she follows the setting sun westward as she passes the countless cheap grog halls and warehouses of the Wharf District. The last few days have been rainy; transforming most of the city streets into a muddy quagmire. Sailors in port for the night and dwarves off shift from the gas forges whistle catcalls and call out crude propositions to the woman as she passes by. Colorfully painted quickwives warn Girri away from their corners and their marks with glares and crude profanity. No matter. Girri has a destination and intends to reach it before full dusk; it's dangerous for a lone woman to be out in Riddleport after dark. Drawing closer, she falls into step with others who are clearly heading the same way as she.

[imagel]http://paizo.com/image/content/SecondDarkness/PZO9013-GoldenGoblinStatue_180.jpeg[/imagel]Rounding a corner the Varisian woman and her companions catch sight of their destination: the Gold Goblin gambling hall. Although it is at the heart of the much neglected Wharf District and the building itself has long stood dormant and empty, it seems somehow rejuvenated now that the day of the big gambling tournament has arrived. Its formerly tarnished brass dome has been recently polished. Crowds of gamblers and spectators mill about on the street or file together through the main doors to sign up for the tournament. Overseeing this gathering is a larger-than-life-size statue of a goblin, apparently cast in glittering gold, that stands atop the entry stairs with a smirking expression of satisfaction on its face; as if personally enjoying the crowds that shuffle past it into the doorway beneath the gambling hall's gilded dome.

OOC: How does Girri approach the situation?

 

[CanadienneBacon]

Girri frowns and averts her eyes from the lewd catcalls of the portbound sailors. A passing thought of her former life astride bug-ridden straw bolsters under the greedy eyes of foreign men sends an involuntary chill through Girri, causing her to draw her shawl tighter about her shoulders and quicken her step.

The leering goblin statue plated in cheap gold draw Girri's ire with her own misfortunes, so the lass glares at the overwrought grin plastered upon the golden beast. "Think yer funny, do ye? We'll be seeing how the winter weathers yer gilt patoose this season. Bit of rain, a seagull or two to shait upon yer head, then we'll see who's pretty." Girri spares a glance up at the recently polished dome of the Golden Goblin gambling hall. "Or that bit of glamered nonsense, for that matter."

Taking a quick moment to see that the precious coins on her person are securely out of the reach of curious fingers, Girri pauses to also transform her bearing and face from misery to beauty. Shoulders up and squared, a lift in her step to accentuate the length and grace of her limbs, and a bit of long dark brown hair allowed to escape the bondage of her head scarf in a beguiling manner, Girri fixes a smile upon her lips and enters the Goblin, intent on scouting the premises and its occupants.

[sblock]Keep to the thick of the crowd, where she's less likely to be noticed by anyone else scouting the joint but still likely to be spotted by any potential mark. Walk slowly, paying particular attention to who is in attendance that she might know, who appears to be the event organizer, and who is in charge this evening.[/sblock]

 

[Ambrus]

Girri stands blinking amidst the press of bodies in the doorway as her eyes adjust to the comparatively dim lighting inside the Gold Goblin. "Looking ta take on tha Devil honey?" The speaker is the nearest of a pair of sultry beauties standing just inside the double doors. Both are dressed in form fitting red leather bustiers, diaphanous white skirts and faux bat wings, devil horns and pointed tails; their eyelashes are coal-blackened and their lips painted ruby red. Playing the part of alluring succubi, the woman who spoke offers Girri a perfunctory smile while her counterpart flirts playfully with the group of men ahead of her. "It'll cost ya ten sails upfront, yer immortal soul and yer mark on this here contract." The scantily clad woman hands Girri a slip of parchment from a stack and motions to a red dyed quill resting next to an inkwell on the table behind her. She waits a few moments for Girri to look over the parchment while glimpsing covertly at the Varisian woman's outfit. "Ya can just mark an X if ya can't write yer name."

 

[CanadienneBacon]

Alarmed for a moment and suddenly paranoid, Girri stops in her tracks to examine first the girl at the door then the parchment. Knowledge (planes) +6, Knowledge (religion) +9. Nine Gods, is this real?! Surely she's just a trumped up girl of the night, tarted up. Girri quirks an eyebrow at the contract but keeps her thoughts to herself for half a moment.

After examining the parchment, Girri folds it and keeps in hand. Affecting her most dripping saccharine voice to reply to the harlot at the door, Girri shrugs her shoulders and slips the parchment unsigned into the underside of a scarf at her breast. "I'll think about it, love. First things first, though. Where's the bar?" Flourishing the silk scarves at her hip for the benefit of the prying eyes of the strumpet, Girri casts a look about the room as if seeking out the drink station.

 

[Ambrus]

Doing a double take, Girri pauses to size up the scantily clad Gold Goblin hostess. The Varisian woman knows that the notorious City of Cyphers has a significant number of residents with some amount of infernal ancestry. It isn't at all unusual to catch sight of a man with horn nubs or a woman with slitted eyes in a crowded tavern or bustling marketplace. Still, discreetly eying the voluptuous 'succubus' before her, Girri can quickly conclude that her appearance is merely a colorful affectation. The demoness' bat wings are simply trimmed leather sewn onto the back of her bustier while her horns are a part of her curved hair comb.

Coming to a sudden realization, the Varisian woman manages to suppress a giggle when she finally becomes aware of something that had been nagging at her about the pair of succubi at the door. Having learnt something of the infernal planes and their residents on the streets of Riddleport, Girri recognizes that the iconic infernal temptresses are in fact Abyssal in nature. Seeing as how demons are the mortal enemies of Hell's devils, it's particularly ironic that that they'd be the hostesses of a "Cheat the Devil" gambling tournament. Apparently whoever was in charge didn't know his demons from his devils.

Although she's never seen one before, Girri doesn't believe that the contract she's been handed is a real infernal soul-contract. At a guess, the Varisian woman imagines that such a document would have to include the signer's true name or some other equally irrefutable identification. Merely marking the parchment with an X or a false name would be sufficient to invalidate such a contract. True devils would never be so careless in drafting their legal documents.

Looking around for the bar, Girri glances around the large gambling hall. Dozens of gamblers, waitresses dressed as succubi, and bouncers mill about the room, wandering amid tables offering various games while dealers shuffle cards, roll dice and spin wheels. Moving through this throng are a dozen more of the barely clad, bat-winged vixens serving drinks and batting coal-black eyelashes flirtatiously for tips. In the center of the chamber is a short podium atop which sits a massive gold chest affixed to the floor by a similar gaudy chain. On either side of it stands a bare-chested bouncer in the exotic garb of some foreign sultan's court. Each stands with muscled arms crossed over his chest and with a naked scimitar of prodigious size tucked through the waistband.

Girri has largely dismissed the tournament as mere theatrics when she catches sight of something genuinely devilish. High above the bouncers, hanging from the hall's cloth-draped ceiling is a large gilded birdcage within which crouches a small, bat-winged, pointy-tailed creature that sulks as it gazes over the room and occasionally rattles the bars threateningly. It appears to Girri to be a true devil, albeit from amongst Hell's lowliest ranks: an imp.

Adopting a snide tone, the succubi hostess draws Girri's attention away from the sullen imp and back to her. "First things first. Pay the cover and sign the damn thing or you'll be thinking about it outside hon. Either way you'd best unfurl it; you're holding up my line."

 

[CanadienneBacon]

Verging on slight irritation with the noise of the Goblin and the bustle of the event, Girri forces herself to re-focus and purrs a reply to the bat-winged mock succubus. "In such a hurry, are we, love? Careful...wouldn't want ter spoil yer rouge and wings with that famous tanari temper."

Wanting in the room and reasonably certain she's not signing away her soul, Girri takes a fresh parchment from the stack of papers and splashes a large red X as her signature. Handing the paper back to the mock succubus, Girri slings the girl a half-smile, plunks down the ten sails atop the contract, then moves to brush past the tourney-guarding duo.

[sblock=OOC]Keeping the original unsigned contract folded up inside a scarf pocket at her breast. Girri wants to examine the document a bit more thoroughly later, in private. Giving the girl at the door a signed X copy.[/sblock]

 

[Ambrus]

Girri's dismissive attitude elicits a cold glare from the scantily clad hostess while her comment generates only confusion. "Tannery?..." As the Varisian woman is leaning over to mark the parchment and pay the admittance fee, she hears the pseudo-succubus behind her inquire to her fellow hostess: "What did she call me?" Certain she's been insulted, the hostess mutters "Same to you, ya cow" under her breath as Girri brushes past her.

The casino floor is a wide room carpeted in rich red that has been recently patched in many places. Spread throughout the chamber are a dozen tables where different games are to be run. Silken banners depicting grinning devils capering amidst liking flames hang from floor to ceiling along the walls, and wide vertical blinds are drawn over the windows. The chamber's ceiling is draped in layers of horizontally hung, gauzy beige curtains 20 feet above. Light is provided by numerous hanging chandeliers as well as several large copper braziers spaced around the room with live coals to give the chamber a more hellish light for the tournament. At the back of the chamber between the kitchen doors is a small dais bearing a bust of Desna, goddess of luck. Around the central dais, impaled upon upright pitchforks, are a quartet of 'heads' made of painted straw.

A small foyer to the left of the main hall provides access to the cashier's counter, which is secured by a row of vertical bars set firmly into the stone floor. A large archway to the right leads to a side room with a long bar of polished wood that extends along the back wall of the room and curves around at the end. Behind are mirrored shelves holding all manner of glassware as well as kegs of ale, beer, and mead and bottles of wine and liquor.

Most of the fifty-odd patrons are either at the cashier's counter exchanging their coins for gambling chips or milling about the bar area demanding drinks from the two barmen or flirting with the half dozen succubi serving wenches. This being the wharf district, most of them appear to be sailors, perhaps wanting a bit of fun while in port. Some of the more serious gamblers are milling about the main hall watching the croupiers and dealers as they set up their game tables in preparation for the tournament. Some inquire about the rules to the different games to be played while others seem to be sizing up their competition. An impatient few aren't waiting for the tournament and have begun their own impromptu card and dice games to pass the time. One group of sallow faced gas forge dwarves is playing a game of Towers with a crudely painted deck of Harrow cards; an activity normally considered abhorrent to Varisian harrowers. A trio of large, fair haired and boisterous Ulfen men are tossing bone dice while betting measures from their tankards of mead.

Girri wanders around the tables, uncertain of what to make of the Gold Goblin's gaudy and theatrical decor when she passes a young female croupier pulling an actual desiccated human head out of an old hat box. The girl plunks the mummified head down at the center of a horizontally mounted roulette wheel of sorts. Repulsed at the sight of the head's sunken features, the Varisian woman is startled when the head's eyes fly open and fix intently upon her. Its cracked lips split to reveal a long leathery tongue which waggles as the head croaks out a missive from beyond the grave. "This aint tha game fer ya missy; best mind yer cards instead." The croupier, although surprised by the head's outburst, doesn't appear horrified; only reproving. "Now, no lip from you Dungo! Not till the tourney at least..." Smiling at Girri, the dark haired young girl merely shrugs an apology. "Don't mind him. You're of course welcome to take a spin on the Ghoulette wheel once we start. I'm Lixy by the way. Welcome to the Gold Goblin." The croupier offers Girri her hand; the same hand that she'd just used to hold "Dungo".

 

[CanadienneBacon]

The creepiness of the joint begins to take its toll on Girri--the smoke from the coal braziers fills her nostrils with unpleasantness and the garrish lighting grates her nerves. Noting the forge dwarves' abuse of a Harrow deck, Girri frowns. Opening her mouth to object to the dwarves' roughneck abuse of the cards, Girri instead starts as the mummified head at the croupier's table addresses her. "Oi!" Smoothing her scarves, Girri also smooths the fright off her face and recovers enough to smile weakly at the croupier. "Lixy an' Dungo, is it?" Girri reflexively extends her hand to greet the croupier but flinches at the last moment when she realizes she's about to touch the same fingers that just touched the dessicated head. Embarrassed, Girri grits her teeth and shakes Lixy's hand anyway. "Sorry, the smoke's thick in here an' it's gettin' ter me head. Do I need tokens, or you take coins?"