Based on Wizards of the Coast’s Dungeons & Dragons (5e) and Guildmaster’s Guide to Ravnica

As the sun began to set over Ravnica, the street swarmed with dozens of pedestrians, rushing in every direction. A goblin kept watch silently from the shadows of a nearby alley. He concentrated as he inspected each passerby, waiting patiently for his mark. 

A bookish young man emerged from a nearby building, dressed in blue and white robes. He carried a stack of tightly rolled scrolls, which he struggled to keep under control as he merged into the press. 

The goblin rushed out from his hiding place and got ahead of the human. He jostled his way to the center of the crowd and produced a bell from under his garrish black and red cape. He rang it loudly and shouted at the top of his lungs. 

“Step right up folks and witness the mind-bending feats of Mesmeric Mog the Magnificent!”

A handful of people stopped long enough to glance at the goblin, causing others to bump into them. A few people tried to shoo him away. Mog feigned an attempt to get out of their way, while deliberately blocking their path. In a matter of moments, a small crowd had inadvertently gathered. 

Mog summoned a floating, spectral hand and waved it about to draw attention, as he kept a watchful eye on his target’s progress through the mob. 

“I just need a volunteer,” Mog proclaimed. 

He moved the magical hand into the crowd and grasped his mark by the wrist, causing him to drop his scrolls all over the street. Mog forced the man’s hand into the air and yanked him forward. 

“Ah! You’ll do nicely,” Mog announced, dispelling the hand and grabbing the front of the man’s robes. 

“No, I don’t think so,” the clerk protested, fighting to look back to where he dropped his scrolls. “Unhand me, street filth!”

Mog mimicked the man mockingly, eliciting a few chuckles from his audience. 

“I don’t think this one likes me very much!” Mog declared theatrically. 

More laughter this time. 

“But as I will demonstrate, even his vicious temper is no match for my amazing mesmerism!” Mog continued. 

“I do not have a vicious temper,” the clerk defended himself, glancing nervously at the crowd around him. 

“Is that so?” Mog cocked an eyebrow at him. “We’ll see. Why don’t you start by telling us what exactly it is that you do?”

The clerk hesitated, looking for a way out. 

“Let’s give him a hand for encouragement!” Mog prompted. 

The audience clapped half-heartedly, while Mog conjured the spectral hand again and patted his victim’s head condescendingly. More laughter. 

Sighing in exasperation, the man finally gave in. 

“I’m a clerk of the Azorius Senate,” he answered, puffing out his chest a bit.

Mog acted impressed. “A real up and comer, folks! And just look how friendly he is now!”

A few chuckles, mixed with groans. Mog appreciated both reactions. He drew a letter opener and turned its hilt toward the clerk. It was an ordinary piece of metal, a simple tool. Not stolen, not magical. Just something the Azorius clerk could have reasonably had on his person already, a detail that would sow useful confusion later.

“If I were to hand you this little blade, you wouldn’t try to stab me with it, would you?”

“Of course not!” 

Oh, but you will, Mog thought, relishing the anticipation. He forced a wide, disarming grin. “Just checking! Wouldn’t want any misunderstandings. Now, hold this for me, would you?”

He pressed the hilt of the letter opener into the clerk’s trembling hand. Time for the spice.

Mog pulled out an arcane crystal and began swinging it slowly, like a pendulum, in front of the clerk’s eyes. As he misdirected everyone’s attention to the crystal, he made a few quick gestures behind his back with his other hand.

“Now, my good man,” Mog intoned monotonically, “you and I are becoming friends, aren’t we?”

The clerk’s eyes widened slightly, a flush rising on his cheeks. The cantrip worked its subtle magic, imbuing the clerk with a feeling of warmth and camaraderie towards the goblin. He became pliable, cooperative, eager to please. Mog suppressed a giggle of delight.

“So, tell me, friend,” Mog said, leaning in conspiratorially. “What brings a big-shot Azorius clerk like yourself to this part of town? Working on some important laws, I bet?” He could feel the clerk’s resistance melting away, replaced by a desire to share, to connect.

The clerk beamed and began gesturing with the letter opener as he spoke. “Well, as a matter of fact, I am! I’m working on revisions to the tax code regarding street performances, whose provisions are far too lax in my opinion…”

Mog encouraged him to ramble, taking careful note of his words, and nodding occasionally. The crowd, increasingly curious about this bizarre display of apparent Rakdos-Azorius friendship, leaned in closer. Perfect.

Suddenly, a harsh voice cut through the jovial atmosphere. “Stop in the name of the Azorius Senate! You are all impeding traffic and need to disperse immediately!”

Two Azorius Arresters, clad in their pristine armor, strode purposefully towards the scene. Excellent. Showtime.

Mog abruptly ended the spell. The charming effect vanished, leaving the clerk disoriented. The sudden reversal was jarring, as intended.

The clerk blinked, his face a mask of confusion. “Wait… what was I saying? Why am I holding this…” His eyes landed on the letter opener in his hand. Panic flared. “What’s going on? What did you do to me?!”

He whirled on Mog, his voice rising in hysteria. “He… he enchanted me! I felt… He used magic!”

Mog feigned innocent surprise, raising his hands in mock surrender. “It’s just all part of the show! Just harmless entertainment! Relax, friend!”

The lead Arrester stepped forward, his expression stern. “Sir, remain calm.”

The clerk’s emotions only intensified, his voice cracking with fear and anger. “No, you don’t understand! You’re not listening! He made me… He’s a manipulator!”

With a cry of impotent rage, the clerk lunged at Mog with the letter opener still in his hand.

Mog yelped, and stumbled backwards dramatically in mock terror. The Arresters reacted instantly.

“That’s it! I’ve seen enough!” the lead arrester declared, grabbing the clerk’s arm and disarming him effortlessly.

The pair of Arresters manhandled the hapless clerk, as he continued trying to break free and shout about enchantments. A handful of onlookers laughed or cheered as the clerk was dragged away, the rest shook their heads in surprise. With a few grumbles, the crowd began to disperse.

Mog watched all of them go, his heart thrumming with exhilaration. Another perfect performance. He bowed theatrically to the stragglers, enjoying their bewildered expressions. 

He went about collecting the forgotten scrolls scattered across the street. The clerk would be bogged down for a good while, navigating his own Guild’s convoluted legal system as a result of his behaviour. While he was stuck doing that, the changes to the street performance tax code would suffer compounding bureaucratic delays, which meant a little more freedom for the Rakdos in the meantime. The scrolls could also be of interest to the right party.

Smiling from ear to ear, Mog whispered to himself, “and this is just the beginning…”