“That’ll be 5 silver pieces,” the gatekeeper of Arktross said.

“5?! I’ll give you 2,” Khelzad, a thieving_dwarf, offered.

“Look, I don’t usually bargain, but let me check What’s your
charisma?’ the gatekeeper produced a pair of dice.

“8,” sighed Khelzad, consulting a crumpled piece of parchment.

“Is that including the Constitution-Charisma trade-off?” The man
was scanning a chart Khelzad answered in the affirmative.

“Sorry, it’s still 5 silvers. I’m ‘uncertain’ about you,” the gatekeeper
apologized.

The dwarf had barely paid at the gate before a beggar accosted him.

“Spare a copper sir?” he whimpered.

“No, my good man. Cash is tight these days,” Khelzad quickly said.

“Oh come on. I saw your sheet at the gate. You’ve got 200
gold pieces and your Wisdom’s 10! You would figure out that I could be
of great help to you,” the bum looked up with a gleam in his eyes. He
offered a dirty, wrinkled palm.

“I guess you’re right. Here,” the dwarf flipped a coin to him.

“Well?”

“Well what?”

“Aren’t you going to ask me for some information? That’s the only
reason you ever pay a beggar,” the ragged man explained.

“Oh. I’m sorry, but I’m only <a Rogue>. 12 more XP and I’ll <be a Footpad>. What can you tell me?” the dwarf thought
hard.

“Let’s see,” thought <the beggar, who was also a Rogue>. “How about this tidbit: the Thieves' Guild is in back of the Laughing Mute Inn?”

“Fine, thanks,” Khelzad mumbled and wandered toward the Inn.
He walked up the broad wooden porch and through the double doors
to the already busy Common Room. People of all races were laughing,
drinking, and gambling. A few travelers sat at the bar, a group of fighting
men sat at a large table, and some shady-looking thief types drank near
the back door. The bartender, a tall Elf, was pouring countless tankards
and mugs of ale and mead.

Khelzad bought a mug of rum and wandered over to the thieves.

“Mind if I join you?” Khelzad nonchalantly asked. One man looked
slowly up and surveyed the dwarf. He chuckled, stood, and ground his
heel into the dwarf’s soft leather boots.

“That’s about a pip’s worth,” the man muttered. “Mark it off.”

“All right,” Khelzad moaned as he made an ink mark on his paper.

Distraught with the hostility, Khelzad thought it best to approach the
Guild more directly. He limped around to the back, where a single door,
marked by an impaled dagger, was lit. The tenderfoot thief wisely
knocked on the door.

Minutes passed before a woman cracked the door. No light came
from within.

“What d’you want?” she rasped.

“I want to see the Guildmaster,” Khelzad boldly said, standing up
straight.

“He’s busy now.”

Reluctantly the bearded thief paid 10 GP.

“E’ll see you now,” the woman smiled as the door was opened.

“So—you wants to join our little Guild here,” the Master grinned at
Khelzad.

“Yes, sir.”

“Are you able?’

“Yes, sir.”

The Master proceeded to rattle off questions, including Khelzad’s
pips, Dexterity score, weaponry, and Strength bonuses. The answers
were written down carefully.

“Let’s see . . . a good Dex, nice Strength, and decent equipment. I
think you’ll fit in well here,” the Master tossed the dwarf a Guild
medallion, dagger, and cloak.

“Thank you, sir.”

“Listen, Khelzad my boy, I’m getting tired tonight. Mind if we
time-freeze here and pick it up Wednesday night?”

“It’s okay by me. Is that my percentile die?”

“Yeah. Here’s your Greyhawk too. Those charts sure make thieving
easier to run.”