1 hour ago
Thursday, June 2, 2011
Death & Taxes
Long ago, the town father’s of the City decided that treasure uncovered in the areas of its hegemony rightfully belonged to the people. This particularly applied to ancient artifacts like coins or objects of art. The brave (or foolhardy) souls who hauled it to the surface deserved something for their efforts--which they reckoned at best at 70%. This is, of course, reduced by various other fees resulting from destruction of public property, hazardous carcass removal, etc. Adventurers are allowed to deduct equipment and provisioning costs, but only if the appropriate forms are submitted in the appropriate manner.
Adventurer’s might consider melting down precious metal artifacts to render them unrecognizable--but the ownership of gold by private individuals (except in jewelry or coins of numismatical interest) is illegal--not that adventurers are opposed to illegal means, but why keep the evidence around? An adventurer’s only option is fencing of his loot and laundering the proceeds. Of course, this too puts an adventurer in danger as it may draw him into the web of the Hell Syndicate.
Discretion is always important. The bland, gray-suited men of the Municipal Department of Taxation and Finance are not without their own resources. Higher level agents carry wooden coins which writhe in their pockets in the vicinity of gold. Some are able to detect lies as well.
The Municipal Building, where their offices are housed, is a veritable temple to the eikone Management. The place is so aligned with Law that all nonlawful beings suffer confusion and demoralization (-2 to all Intelligence, Wisdom, and Charisma checks) inside its walls, if seeking to act against its bureaucracy.
Those who damage (or attempt to damage) the Municipal Building or harm its agents, while flaunting its rules run the risk of calling down an inevitable upon them. These powerful constructs punish transgressions against bureaucracy and law. They're believed to be summoned by a teletype machine in a sub-basement office beneath the building. Some rumors suggest the summoning of an inevitable requires a civil servant to burn his employment record in a waste bin, surrendering his identity--and his pension.