Out there, lurking in the deepest jungles, are things. Things waiting for the smart and adventurous to come around and pop them into their backpacks. Things customers pay enormous sacks of gold for.
No newspaper circulates with evil want-ads in the back. No Quest Givers sit around in taverns trying to get evil to go on evil missions and join Evil Empires.
A household evil name is more than a brand. It’s a stamp of evil quality. Murder Hobos know what they’re getting when they run with that brand.
Spells have a special problem: they’re information. Spells are knowledge which, when learned, perform a specified effect.
Violence makes things messy and inconvenient. Corporations like things neat and convenient. And bureaucratic.
Algorithms become faster, smarter, and more efficient. Nastier. More aggressive.
It’s impossible to put a dollar value on the worth of a refrigerated semi carrying the data of an entire corporation. One file is valuable, sure. Maybe a few files are valuable. But an entire truck worth of files…
For strange reasons mostly associated with the vomiting hellmouth outside town and the theoretical quick riches found therein, the Diviner’s Guild in Drumport kept losing their working Diviners to mis-adventure.
That hoard comes out to roughly 588,000 gold, plus the associated weight of all the other interesting stuff sticking out of it. It’s a huge sum of cash. But there’s an issue.
It’s unlikely the old man is agenda free. Something is out there. The old man is using the party to kill it. Or feed it.