DM Salsa Presents: The Curse of the Crimson Throne (Inactive)

Game Master AdamWarnock

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BattleMaps | Chronicles of Kassen | HeroLab Files | Loot Sheet

Post to dot the thread.


Male Human Cleric (Sarenrae) 2 HP: 17/17 AC 17/10/17: F+5, R+1, W+8, Per:+5, Init: +2 Channels Remaining: 5/8 Loot Sheet

Checking in.


Female Human Paladin (Oath of Venegeance) 2 | HP 31/31 | AC 22/14/18 | F+10, R+7, W+9 | Perc +5, Init +3

Present.


M Half elf Ranger 1

Here


Female Changeling Ranger 2 HP: 7/22 AC 16/13/13: F+6, R+6, W+2(+2 vs. fear); Per: +7, darkvision 60 ft.; Init: +3

Reporting!


Male Half-orc Alc 1/Bbn 1 HP: 25/25 (dead at -15) AC: 17/11/16, F +7 (+2 vs poison/drugs, +4 vs Alcohol), R +3, W +0, Per: +5 (darkvision 60'), Init: +1

Here


Female Human (Chelaxian) Legendary Swashbuckler 2 | AC 17, T 14, FF 13 | hp 21/21 | F +1, R +7, W +0 | CMD 16 | Init +4 | Perception +5 | Panache 3/3

Present and accounted for!

Scarab Sages

Intit +2 AC 14, T 10, FF 14 HP 9/9 Fort +0, Ref +2, Will +3 CMD 13 Perception +5

Present, but no one accounts for the angry old man! >:D


M Human Bard 6 (Chelish Diva) HP: 46/46, AC 23/11/22, F+4 R+6 W+5, Per +5, Init +1

I'm late, but I'm here!


Female Half Orc Paladin [Redeeming Warrior of the Holy Light] of Sarenrae 2 | HP 24/24 | AC 20/12/18 | F+8, R+5, W+8 | Perc +4, Darkvision 60ft | Init +3 | Move: 20ft. Harrow Card: Demon's Lantern, Harrow Points: 1 (1 Used)

Even later but also here and glad to be so :)


BattleMaps | Chronicles of Kassen | HeroLab Files | Loot Sheet

The sun rises over a crisp autumn morning in Korvosa. Merchants and farmers setup to hock their wares. The thousands that call Korvosa home begin to stir from their slumber and slowly the city comes to life. The routine of everyday life starts with the dawn of a new day.

But for some, the routine is about to change.

Calcedon:
As you ready yourself for the day, you find a card laying on the strings of your violin. The edges are gilt in silver and both the back and front are rendered in exquisite detail and vibrant color. The back is a complex pattern of intertwining lines and Varisian knots. The front, however, shows a stylized image of a majestic opera house and the words "The Theater" in elaborate script just below.

The back also has a short written message in a simple, but elegant hand:
I know what Gaedren has done to you. He has wronged me as well. I know where he dwells, yet cannot strike at him. Come to my home at 3 Lancet Street at sunset. Others like you will be there. Gaedren must face his fate, and justice must be done.

Dorian:
The dawn brings with it a curious sight. Laying atop your bow is a card with silver edges and breath-taking colors. The front shows a man giving a speech to his fellows with "The Publican" below in an elaborate script. The back is just a detailed and vibrant as the front, with a message written in a beautiful, simple script.

I know what Gaedren has done to you. He has wronged me as well. I know where he dwells, yet cannot strike at him. Come to my home at 3 Lancet Street at sunset. Others like you will be there. Gaedren must face his fate, and justice must be done.

Elise:
After your prayers, you find that a card with silver edges and vibrant, elaborate artwork is laying on your shield. The front shows an angel with six gleaming white wings flying through the heavens while playing on a golden horn. Beneath this in an elaborate script are the words "The Trumpet."

The back, while just as beautiful as the front, has a brief message in an simple but elegant hand.

I know what Gaedren has done to you. He has wronged me as well. I know where he dwells, yet cannot strike at him. Come to my home at 3 Lancet Street at sunset. Others like you will be there. Gaedren must face his fate, and justice must be done.

Mercy:
Under your holy symbol, as the sky turns from velvet black to the pre-dawn gray of morning, you find a silver-edged card with vibrant, even in the dim light, artwork. The front shows a deceptively simple throne with no one in it and the words "The Empty Throne" in an elaborate script.

The back is covered by a message written in a simple, but pleasant hand.

I know what Gaedren has done to you. He has wronged me as well. I know where he dwells, yet cannot strike at him. Come to my home at 3 Lancet Street at sunset. Others like you will be there. Gaedren must face his fate, and justice must be done.

Nicoletta:
Laying on top of your rapier, you find a colorful card with silver-gilt edges and artwork that could have been someone's masterpiece. The front depicts a harlequin juggling all manner of items, from balls to clubs to torches to daggers and even to maces. Beneath that are the words "The Juggler" in an elaborate script. On the back is a message in a simple and elegant hand.

I know what Gaedren has done to you. He has wronged me as well. I know where he dwells, yet cannot strike at him. Come to my home at 3 Lancet Street at sunset. Others like you will be there. Gaedren must face his fate, and justice must be done.

Paulus:
Lying underneath your holy symbol you find a silver-edged card with colorful and detailed artwork. The front shows a sturdy looking woman handing a young mother her newborn child. Beneath the image, in an elaborate script, are the words "The Midwife." The back has a message in an elegant and simple hand.

I know what Gaedren has done to you. He has wronged me as well. I know where he dwells, yet cannot strike at him. Come to my home at 3 Lancet Street at sunset. Others like you will be there. Gaedren must face his fate, and justice must be done.

Zeverin:
As you open your formula book, a silver-edged card falls out of it and onto the floor. The front has an image of a battle-worn fortress, which still looks like it would be difficult to take if not impossible. Beneath it are the words "The Keep" in an elaborate script. On the back, written in a simple, elegant hand is a message.

I know what Gaedren has done to you. He has wronged me as well. I know where he dwells, yet cannot strike at him. Come to my home at 3 Lancet Street at sunset. Others like you will be there. Gaedren must face his fate, and justice must be done.

Rhasuel:
Atop the stack of papers and parchments that you were composing your submission to the Pathfinders, you find a silver-edged card with colorful and elaborate artwork on the front and back. The front shows a mob tearing down a statue with the words "Teh Uprising" in an elaborate script below. The back has a message in a simple, elegant hand.

I know what Gaedren has done to you. He has wronged me as well. I know where he dwells, yet cannot strike at him. Come to my home at 3 Lancet Street at sunset. Others like you will be there. Gaedren must face his fate, and justice must be done.

Okay, tell me what you're doing for the day, and the evening. Roll Knowledge (Local) or Diplomacy to see if you know anything or to ask questions.
Again, sorry for the delay in getting the game going, but it's finally going!


Male Human Cleric (Sarenrae) 2 HP: 17/17 AC 17/10/17: F+5, R+1, W+8, Per:+5, Init: +2 Channels Remaining: 5/8 Loot Sheet

Paulus rises just before dawn, as usual. He stretches, then reaches for his most valuable possession. In the process he knocks something to the floor. "Goddess, please grant your servant a portion of your most wonderful gift." A moment later a magical light rests on the holy symbol, brightening the room.

The item was a card of some sort, apparently. Paulus picks up the card, brow furrowing in puzzlement. How did this get in here? He inspects the front of the card carefully, noting the detail of the illumination, before turning it over.

He quickly reads the back, his breath catching in his throat. Could this be the answer to his prayers? For almost a decade he had been more or less running from his past. Was it time to stand? "Thank you, Goddess. You have always answered my prayers."

Paulus attends the morning service, helping the senior clergy members with their ceremony. He makes a couple of uncharacteristic errors, his focus elsewhere. As the worshipers file out, he pulls one of them, a merchant, to the side with a smile.

He asks, "Excuse me, sir, but do you know who resides at 3 Lancet Street?"

If Needed, Diplomacy: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (7) + 7 = 14

Regardless of the answer, he remains anxious throughout the day, walking to the address an hour early. He realizes he has no knack for stealthing, so he just waits outside the place, looking around for his promised fellows, lost in his thoughts.


Female Half Orc Paladin [Redeeming Warrior of the Holy Light] of Sarenrae 2 | HP 24/24 | AC 20/12/18 | F+8, R+5, W+8 | Perc +4, Darkvision 60ft | Init +3 | Move: 20ft. Harrow Card: Demon's Lantern, Harrow Points: 1 (1 Used)

Mercy begins her day like any other of late... A vigil for the slow rise of the autumn sun and the true beginning of the day. Prayer and song heralding the Dawnflower's blessings, then breaking fast and the conundrum of the card...

The presence of the card takes her momentarily aback, then a silent acknowledgement that Sarenrae's purpose for her holy warrior is clear:

Oh Goddess... You test me ever with this journey of life, but my arm and heart shall not be found wanting!

As she goes about her practiced routine, the orc blooded warrior serenely muses further on the words she has read. Painful memories resurface as she prepares her weapons and armour and Mercy prays for the strength of will and faith to stay the path.

Once ready the shield-maid of Sarenrae steps out into the city of her birth: Cloaked and armoured she avoids trouble where possible as she investigates the notes suggestion that others like herself, seek Lamm and justice for his crimes, gather at the address.

The odd question, and where necessary the odd coin hopefully allow the paladin to discern more of others asking of the cards locale and the invitation it issues;

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (7) + 7 = 14

Though she has yet to meet these folk, her hope is that some will be like her, former lambs and survivors come home to seek their fell shepherd...


M Human Bard 6 (Chelish Diva) HP: 46/46, AC 23/11/22, F+4 R+6 W+5, Per +5, Init +1

Waking to the sound of children laughing and flat-footed stomping through the hall, Calcedon lifted his head to note the angle of the sun through his window. Despite his irritation at being woke early he had to shake his head and smile. It was good to hear life going on in house Fordyce again. It had been a long time. The place had become unnaturally dark and eerie since his parents had died, the regular servants were dismissed and his uncle began his rituals celebrating Zon-Kuthon in the basement. Now all that was gone and children were free to laugh and play in the house without fear. So much of his own life had been spent in constant stress, now it was good to hear that not all had it as bad.

In the distance he heard the pluckings and soundings of the Morning Salad. Since he had opened his house to anyone who wished to pursue artistry, there were never any shortage of musicians to play with. They called it the Salad, because they would just throw whatever instruments they had into the mix and enjoy. It was better than breakfast. He reached over and grabbed his case, thinking to join the spontaneous session of music congregating in the courtyard and opened it up.

And his heart nearly stopped. Seeing the Varisian knots and lines instantly reminded him of Her. Did she just reach out to him? Could it be that she wanted him to come see Her? He anxiously read the message and crossed the line from terribly nervous to terribly confused. What in the hells was this? He scanned his own memory to see if he even knew a Gaedren and came up blank. Frustrated at his own hope concerning his houseguest and the lack of answers about the card, he headed off to Salad to clear his head.

After an hour and a half of music he was ready to view the situation from a place of peace. Although his inaccessability seemed to be a problem for the writer on the card, if he had been noble, Cal felt that he would have remembered or known if he were noble. The real question about Gaedren was that he had somehow wronged him. After the execution of his uncle he really couldn't think of anyone who had done something against him off of the top of his head. He'd go of course, it was too much of a curiosity not to do so, but it would be best if he could get a little more information.

Using diplomacy and my once per day trait to gather information in the town about what the card is and who Gaedren is or might be.1d20 + 4 + 2 + 4 ⇒ (11) + 4 + 2 + 4 = 21

Scarab Sages

Intit +2 AC 14, T 10, FF 14 HP 9/9 Fort +0, Ref +2, Will +3 CMD 13 Perception +5

Rhasuel examines the card for a long minute. Nothing seemed suspicious. Lamm had doubtless made foes, but how had this mystery person found him?

Stacks of papers fill his poor, wooden desk. His unfinished treatise on Vingald's Law of Transmutative Mass for the Pathfinder Sociery lies in stacks around him. Nothing in the room was rich. His descent into madness and pain that was Shiver OD had left his funds frighteningly slim. Meaning nonexistent. So far he has managed to scrape by. Doing odd jobs and writing where he can. This has bad the unintentional side effect of giving him the best physique of his life, but has done nothing to quell the burning hatred for Lamm that sits in his gut.

This card was an opportunity. Lamm must die.

He has time, however. The meeting was set for the evening, so he works on his paper most of the day, or tries to. Thoughts of who these others might be crowd his thoughts on his paper. Finally, the time to leave arrives. He packs what meager possessions he has and sets out.

Know:Local: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (14) + 8 = 22

Rhasuel knows the address. He was familiar with most parts of town from his wanderings as a Shiver addict. The memories some of these places brought up were unpleasant, but they only steel his resolve to stick Lamm's head on a spear.

Rhasuel arrives exactly on time.


Male Half-orc Alc 1/Bbn 1 HP: 25/25 (dead at -15) AC: 17/11/16, F +7 (+2 vs poison/drugs, +4 vs Alcohol), R +3, W +0, Per: +5 (darkvision 60'), Init: +1

Zeverin wakes early, as has become his habit after he finally kicked his addiction. He starts his day as usual with stretching, breathing exercises, and then some revitalizing calisthenics. Once he has fully stretched and exercised, he begins to make a list of the tonics and salves he may need throughout the day to maintain his health and keep him from thinking about Shiver. Opening his book, an odd card falls out, one he is certain he did not place inside.

He immediately looks around his lodgings, checking the window is still secure, and the door still locked. He returns to his seat and looks the card over more thoroughly. It is an odd design. It's a city held aloft on a chunk of land that bears giant metal arms and legs, while smoke billows from some odd stack at the top. The shadows of people surround the edifice below, not in the city, but under it. Shaking his head he flips it over, and sees the writing on the back. Then his eyes go wide and he searches his room once more, to include looking under the bed, in the wardrobe, even as far as looking under the small space beneath the bedside table.

His heart races. Someone knows where he is and what he's been working towards, and they are looking to meet with him. It could be legit, or it could be a trap. He gathers himself, with some of his mantras, "My body is my temple, as long as I worship there I will remain strong in my beliefs. No one can make me anything more than what I want to make myself. It is my own personal strength that has fought the battle I waged against the drug, and it is that strength that will get me through this life." Having calmed himself, he decided it was time. He was long overdue for facing this part of his past, and one of the keys to truly recovering.

He finishes his tonic preparations, adjusted for he may face this day, and gather his things. He looks for his friend and frequent voice of reason, Paulus, but the young man had already stepped out for the day. Zeverin decides to find the address early, and stakeout the place to see who all comes and goes. He does his best to look like an unassuming local, and stay out of sight, though it's not really his forte.

Disguise 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (2) - 1 = 1, so he managed to make himself look like an angry Half-orc. Good job Zev.
Stealth 1d20 ⇒ 14


Male Human Cleric (Sarenrae) 2 HP: 17/17 AC 17/10/17: F+5, R+1, W+8, Per:+5, Init: +2 Channels Remaining: 5/8 Loot Sheet

Perception: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (4) + 5 = 9

Lost in his thoughts and memories, Paulus does not notice his friend skulking about. He remains standing across the street from the address, closing his eyes at times. Anyone who knows him realizes he is silently praying, and is likely very anxious. To his credit, he manages to not pace as he waits, the minutes sliding by with excruciating slowness.


M Half elf Ranger 1

Another restless night, leading to another troubled day.

Dorian awakens in another tavern room to the pounding on the door.

Payment is due, pay up now or you can find another hole to pass out in.

Dorian moans as he gets out of the bed. I hear ya, he grumbles, he thinks to himself, what has been 2 maybe three days, maybe a week? hell I don't even know how long since I decided to go clean.

he reaches for the coin pouch tucked under his pillow and spills out some coin to pay his debt. there is still one more that needed to pay a debt, and I am the one to collect.[/b] thinking of Lamm, glancing to his meager equipment. he notices the card.

hello, what is this?

he mutters picking it up to examine.

*Bang - Bang - Bang* You gonna open up or do I have to get the collector! the landlord yells through the door.

I'm getting it you fat... Dorian stops his response, no need to make more enemies than he already had.

flipping the card over he takes a read. [i]finally a lead, lets hope this one pans out.

opening the door. Dorian is greeted bu short fat unkempt landlord hand held out looking for his rent.

placing the pouch in the landlords hand. here, take it, another night of whoring awaits you.

Dorian slams the door before the landlord can respond.

He gathers his things and cleans up. heading out to the address on the card.

stopping outside he looks over the place. then scans the area for an ambush.

perception: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (8) + 8 = 16

he walks past, heading a little further down and cuts back across the street. taking up "residence" in an alley nearby the entrance. there he sits and watches for a bit, waiting to see if others are arriving.


Female Human (Chelaxian) Legendary Swashbuckler 2 | AC 17, T 14, FF 13 | hp 21/21 | F +1, R +7, W +0 | CMD 16 | Init +4 | Perception +5 | Panache 3/3

Nicoletta takes some time to wake. While she knows Rainieri will be rising before the dawn for prayer, Aurelio for his training, and Lotario to begin working before the heat rises, she has no such reasons to be awake early. Therefore, the sun is high in the autumn sky before she opens her eyes, rubs them blearily, and prepares for the day.

After all, she was less likely to be noticed once the day was well and truly begun.

As she dresses, she reaches for her rapier, still only half-awake, and her fingers brush against a stuff card. She flips the thing over in her hand, looking at both sides curiously. "The Juggler, eh?" she mutters, her sharp eyebrows twitching down toward her nose. "Lancet street..." As she finishes dressing, she searches her memory for any mention of the street, and who might live there.

Knowledge (local): 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (3) + 7 = 10

She arrives shortly after sunset, glancing around to see if anyone's paying too much attention before hesitantly heading in.

Perception: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (17) + 4 = 21


Female Human Paladin (Oath of Venegeance) 2 | HP 31/31 | AC 22/14/18 | F+10, R+7, W+9 | Perc +5, Init +3

Rising from her reverie, Elise inspects the card with equal parts suspicion and curiosity. The card was elegant, the artistry in its design evident. Elise understood little about the cards of this nature, but she couldn’t help but feel drawn to the image. An Angel, soaring through the heavens and sounding the horns of righteousness. It appealed to her, but nevertheless made her uncomfortable once she flipped it over to read the message personalized.

Gaedren Lamm; it appears our worlds collide once more.

Quietly setting the card away in belt pouch, Elise gathered her shield and nodded quietly to the Abbess nearby. It was probably best that she said nothing to her fellow Iomedeans; they were well aware of the years of torment Elise had suffered in the service of Lamm, for indeed they had been the very people who rescued her. Elise left without so much as a word.

En route to Lancet Street, the normally outgoing and exuberant warrior was quiet and introspective. Who sent this to me? Is this some sort of trap? Finally stopping out front of building, Elise drew forth the card to double check she had the right address. After a moments hesitation, she finally whispers to herself "Here goes nothing…" and with a gentle rap on the door, she awaited to see what fate had in store.

Perception: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (15) + 3 = 18


Male Human Cleric (Sarenrae) 2 HP: 17/17 AC 17/10/17: F+5, R+1, W+8, Per:+5, Init: +2 Channels Remaining: 5/8 Loot Sheet

A knock on the door leading to his destiny shakes Paulus from his reverie. "Here goes nothing..." he hears as he turns his head to the noise. He sees the side profile of a warrior woman, bearing the insignia of Iomedae, practically glowing in the sunset. His eyes squint as memory tugs at him, and he stares for a few seconds. His mouth opens, but no words escape, and he turns his head to the side as he tears up, overcome for a moment with emotion.

It's you... He had carried guilt inside him all these years, the guilt associated with dooming children to abuse, torture, and death by his inaction, his weakness. This one, the one who had, as he lay beaten and crying in frustration and pain, given him the strength that one evening to brave the night and escape to the embrace of Sarenrae, she had tortured him nightly in his dreams. He had mourned them all for nine years, these faceless children, most of which he had never known, but her worst of all, for he was sure she had ended up dead in a gutter or worse as the ultimate price for her spirit.


BattleMaps | Chronicles of Kassen | HeroLab Files | Loot Sheet

I believe that's everyone, sorry for the delay, work is about to get hectic, so it's going to be slow for the next few weeks.

The townhouse that the card, and any helpful Korvosans, point each of you too is pleasant, but as a slight air of neglect. The door is unlocked, and opens easily at Elise's touch.

Inside is a riot of color and aromas. Incense that burns in butterfly shaped holders on the walls. Tapestries depicting scenes of skulls, angels, and demons cover the walls. The smell of fresh baked bread fills the house. On a red-scarf draped table lies the basket of bread and wine, and a note that reads:

Thank you for coming. I had to step out for a bit, but shall return shortly. Please, have a seat while you wait. The basket on the table contains bread and drink for you.

The sun finally begins to sink below the horizon and the first stars, in the city and the sky above, begin to glow.

Hail, hail the gang's all here. Chat and get to know each other.


Female Human (Chelaxian) Legendary Swashbuckler 2 | AC 17, T 14, FF 13 | hp 21/21 | F +1, R +7, W +0 | CMD 16 | Init +4 | Perception +5 | Panache 3/3

Stepping inside, Nicoletta holds the door briefly for whoever may follow - something in her gut tells her it's right, after all. The place seems homey - and the smell of bread makes her stomach rumble. It had been a while since her own home had borne the smell of baking. Tearing off a chunk of bread, she takes a seat at the table, crossing one booted leg over the other and pushing back her cloak to show her rapier, within easy reach. One of the other people in the room looks familiar - with a stab of regret, she remembers him as one of Rainieri's faith-brothers from the Temple - the one she'd yelled at. After taking a moment to compose herself, she breaks the silence.

"I imagine you're all here for the same reason as me," she begins, holding up her card. "Guess that means we have one thing in common, at least. How about some introductions, then, so we have another? Me, I go by Nic."


Male Human Cleric (Sarenrae) 2 HP: 17/17 AC 17/10/17: F+5, R+1, W+8, Per:+5, Init: +2 Channels Remaining: 5/8 Loot Sheet

After taking a few minutes to compose himself, then performing a quick prayer in the last rays of sunset, Paulus enters the colorful home. He quickly sees Zev and smiles easily, extending his hand to the man, then slapping him on the arm as they shake. "I should have known you'd be here, friend! I was wrong to come without talking to you first. I was not in a correct frame of mind."

He notices the half-orc crusader of his Goddess, and approaches her. "Mercy! It's been a while, but I can see your training has done wonders for you! I'm so glad you are here." He wraps her up in a hug, likely receiving the worse end of it.

At that point he hears the flame-haired woman speak in the room, and glances her way. His lips immediately purse as he remembers the tongue-lashings she had given him a couple years ago as the Church had cared for her father.

He exchanges a look with the others in the room, smiling warmly at them all. He can only look at the one for a brief second before he tears his gaze away. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his card, The Midwife. He holds it up and says, "I am Paul, servant of the Dawnflower."

He takes a seat in an available chair/sofa/etc. that is closest to him, not wanting to insult anyone by walking away to a more unoccupied area.


M Human Bard 6 (Chelish Diva) HP: 46/46, AC 23/11/22, F+4 R+6 W+5, Per +5, Init +1

Having heard of Gaedren as a bit of a crime boss in the northern part of the city, Calcedon came into a bit of a sneaking suspicion that whomever had called this little meeting knew of a tie to this man and his parent's murder some 11 years ago. Since that day was a cause or at least a beginning to all of Cal's hurts, it would mean a lot to bring such a man to justice.

The problem was believing it. If he allowed himself to be swallowed up in revenge, he could very much end up in the unpleasant places he had been when he was younger. If he didn't allow himself to at least acknowledge the hope of the confrontation, he'd be suspect to all the others who have a great personal interest in seeing this man hang.

To his credit he did arrive early, prepared for war. He left his violin at home, but he did bring a stout blade and a shield. He also had his parade armor, giving him a bit of pull with the law of those who knew which family it belonged to. He was soon to arrive after a pretty blonde girl who looked like she could handle herself in a fight. Of course, he thought girl as she came in, but something told him she was probably older than he was.

There was a cleric of Sarenrae, or at least it seemed, and a confident Chelaxian named Nic. As others came in also, he introduced himself as informally as he could muster having propriety literally beaten into him. "I am Calcedon, which shortens to Cal quite easily. I've 'The Theater' here." He held up his own card as well with his three-fingered hand along with a brilliant smile. "I seem to be at a disadvantage not knowing anyone here. Rest assured it will not always be thus. "

Scarab Sages

Intit +2 AC 14, T 10, FF 14 HP 9/9 Fort +0, Ref +2, Will +3 CMD 13 Perception +5

Rhasuel enters near the middle of the group. His white beard identifies him as easily the oldest in the room, but his gait and posture are that of a man decades younger than he appears. His clothes are poor and his hands are stained with ink. Some might recognize him as a former librarian in the great and grand library at the Academe, but he doubts it. It's been years since he worked there. He might as well be a different person now, reborn through the fire of Shiver overdose followed by cold-turkey withdrawal.

He sits at the table and helps himself to the bread after "Nic". There were also several Sarenites here and a noble who was trying his best not to be. An interesting assemblage. Gaeldern had done a great job of making enemies over the years.

When his turn comes around he holds up his card, a crowd of people rioting around a statue. The Uprising. An appropriate card. My name's Rhasuel an-Tephu, and I'm here to see that a certain someone's head goes on a stake. I'm assuming the same goes for youall, including our mystery host.
Not one for subtlety, this Rhasuel.


Male Half-orc Alc 1/Bbn 1 HP: 25/25 (dead at -15) AC: 17/11/16, F +7 (+2 vs poison/drugs, +4 vs Alcohol), R +3, W +0, Per: +5 (darkvision 60'), Init: +1

Zeverin is only slightly more comforted about the situation when he sees Paul, even if this is a trap, at least he has an ally nearby. SOmeone he can rely on when things get tough. He moves to the entrance of the building, but he doesn't fully enter. He stays by the door, keeping one foot in it, as the others introduce themselves.

As it begins to sound like it may be a legitimate venture against a thoroughly hated man, he decides to introduce himself as well. "My name is Zeverin, but some people call me Zev," He indicates Paulus. He then holds up his card. "I got The Keep. So is this the calling card for secret meetings? If everyone got something different, is it indicative of something specific?"

Interestingly enough, the card is perfect for him.
First it is the in the position of his alignment, of the suit of his highest attribute. Maybe that is how the book says to pick them, I don't know.
Not only is it his stat and alignment, though, both the positive and negative aspects of the card pretty much define Zev'z positive and negative aspects of his personality.

Scarab Sages

Intit +2 AC 14, T 10, FF 14 HP 9/9 Fort +0, Ref +2, Will +3 CMD 13 Perception +5

Mine matches me pretty well. In more ways than one. It wouldn't surprise me if our mystery host was spying on us before calling this meeting and chose cards to match each of us. . He munches on bread and follows it with a deep draw of wine.


Male Half-orc Alc 1/Bbn 1 HP: 25/25 (dead at -15) AC: 17/11/16, F +7 (+2 vs poison/drugs, +4 vs Alcohol), R +3, W +0, Per: +5 (darkvision 60'), Init: +1

The half-orc looks curious, "You mean the name matches, or do you know all the hokey behind these things to know what it's supposed to represent? If so, what is mine trying to say about me?" He asks, almost offended as if he thinks someone is saying something bad about him in a foreign language.

Scarab Sages

Intit +2 AC 14, T 10, FF 14 HP 9/9 Fort +0, Ref +2, Will +3 CMD 13 Perception +5

I mean what I think of when I see the card matches me. I never payed attention to the smoke and mirrors that goes into reading them, but a crowd of the poor and downtrodden rioting around something bigger than they are individually? Sounds like my kind of party.


Female Human (Chelaxian) Legendary Swashbuckler 2 | AC 17, T 14, FF 13 | hp 21/21 | F +1, R +7, W +0 | CMD 16 | Init +4 | Perception +5 | Panache 3/3

Turning her gaze guiltily away from Paulus, Nicoletta takes the wine after Rhasuel, swigging it from the bottle before passing it on. She looks briefly over Calcedon's missing fingers, wondering about the story behind the digits for a moment, before glancing at Zeverin. "Mine's the Juggler. Strange, considering I never learned to juggle." She gives a grin, rocking back on her chair slightly. "So, this certain someone whose head should be on a stake. What's he done to the rest of you?"

Scarab Sages

Intit +2 AC 14, T 10, FF 14 HP 9/9 Fort +0, Ref +2, Will +3 CMD 13 Perception +5

Rhasuel shivers invoulentarily as Nic's question digs up a few extremely uneasant memories. Shiver. is all he says in responce. If these people are who he suspects, they'll know what volumes that single word can speak.


Male Half-orc Alc 1/Bbn 1 HP: 25/25 (dead at -15) AC: 17/11/16, F +7 (+2 vs poison/drugs, +4 vs Alcohol), R +3, W +0, Per: +5 (darkvision 60'), Init: +1

Zev licks his lips as he eyes the wine, but waves it off before it gets close to him. He whispers something to himself under his breath as he does. When the old man mentions Shiver, his whole body tenses, and a deep scowl covers his face. He sighs deeply, then places a strong and supportive hand on the old man's shoulder, but says nothing.


Male Human Cleric (Sarenrae) 2 HP: 17/17 AC 17/10/17: F+5, R+1, W+8, Per:+5, Init: +2 Channels Remaining: 5/8 Loot Sheet

Paulus chuckles wryly, shrugging. "I had to think about mine, since I don't remember delivering any children. However, I think my Goddess's stance on rebirth might be somehow related. Perhaps this will be an end of a period of some of our lives and a new beginning will emerge from it?"

He looks to the old man, eyes laced with sympathy. Thankfully he had never gotten into THAT aspect of Lamm's operations, but he had seen the disastrous results. It was how he had met Zev, after all.

He turns back to the fiery woman, then shakes his head, voice thick with emotion. "I do not wish to speak of it. However, our first concern should be for the poor wretches who are currently in Lamm's clutches. What's done is done and can not be changed. Only avenged."

He sits back, not partaking of the food or drink for now, too nervous to eat.

Scarab Sages

Intit +2 AC 14, T 10, FF 14 HP 9/9 Fort +0, Ref +2, Will +3 CMD 13 Perception +5

Rhasuel looks up and nods knowingly. I'm not alone here then. Good.


BattleMaps | Chronicles of Kassen | HeroLab Files | Loot Sheet

So so sorry about forgetting you Annabelle!

Annabelle:
You find a silver-edged card with the image of a graceful dancer on the front with the words "The Dance" underneath in an elaborate script on the back is a simple message in a pleasant hand.

I know what Gaedren has done to you. He has wronged me as well. I know where he dwells, yet cannot strike at him. Come to my home at 3 Lancet Street at sunset. Others like you will be there. Gaedren must face his fate, and justice must be done.

Feel free to hop on in!


M Human Bard 6 (Chelish Diva) HP: 46/46, AC 23/11/22, F+4 R+6 W+5, Per +5, Init +1

Cal did sympathize with the pain of others, he understood pain at least as well as any of them did.

"I have reason to believe that this man had a hand in the death of my parents. He's more indirectly the cause of my torture by a Kuthonite who may have been in collusion with him. I have already seen the co-conspirator hanged. The only thing that kept me from moving on this man before this time is a lack of a witness, of which I was hoping to meet today."

He turned to Rhasuel and gave him a knowing smirk. "I'd like for his death to be advertised as well, as a warning to other presumptuous crime lords. A public execution would suit me best, but I could be persuaded otherwise due to necessity or even possibly convenience."


Female Half Orc Paladin [Redeeming Warrior of the Holy Light] of Sarenrae 2 | HP 24/24 | AC 20/12/18 | F+8, R+5, W+8 | Perc +4, Darkvision 60ft | Init +3 | Move: 20ft. Harrow Card: Demon's Lantern, Harrow Points: 1 (1 Used)

Inside the house Mercy greets the others with a guarded nod, until Paulus approaches her. As he speaks wide eyed recognition wells forth over the half orc's features;

"Paulus! Dawnflower's blessed light it is you! My friend I owe you so much... so much!"

Momentarily stunned with emotion, the female warrior composes herself as she rests an arm on the priest's shoulder. Then with a nod, she stands tall and firm, voice proud as she speaks her peace to the others;

"I am Mercy. Once of Lamm's orphans, now a daughter of Sarenrae and her holy sword... If by deed or word I can help any of you I will... My card was The Empty Throne though I no not how it befits me..."


Male Human Cleric (Sarenrae) 2 HP: 17/17 AC 17/10/17: F+5, R+1, W+8, Per:+5, Init: +2 Channels Remaining: 5/8 Loot Sheet

As the others reveal their cards, Paulus's curiosity overwhelms his nerves. There was surely some relevance to the cards, but he had never had any interest in learning the fine art of fortune telling.

He asks the others as he studies his card, "Do any of you know what these cards mean? As in, the symbology behind them? Perhaps that will give us answers as to why each of us has this specific card. Or maybe we'll just wait for our host to explain?"


Female Changeling Ranger 2 HP: 7/22 AC 16/13/13: F+6, R+6, W+2(+2 vs. fear); Per: +7, darkvision 60 ft.; Init: +3

No problem!

Annabelle arose after the waking dawn, welcoming the sound of sparrows and Korvosan larks singing duets in the chilly air. Getting dressed for the day after splashing some refreshing water on her face, she headed out in the market place. Just after she opened the door, she noticed a slight movement and soft thwarp sound hit the ground. Bending a knee and looking down, she noticed it was finely written card. Pursing her lips as she read it, a dark thought came to mind.

Lamm, she thought. Almost subconciously, her hand drifted down to her ribs, where some hired thugs had stricken her while she lay gasping on the street. A bold glare formed on her face, both curious and anticipating what this may mean. Carefully pocketing the card, she strode forth, hoping to get some answers on the market.

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 0 ⇒ (1) + 0 = 1

After getting brushed off for not buying anything for the seventh time - this time by a mustachioed Varisian merchant -, Annabelle shook her head in minute frustration, and headed toward the street.

Arriving well after sunset, she carefully walked in, and beheld a small gathering of individuals, all with a look of great purpose.

Smiling wanely, she said "Sorry to be tardy, but who's the one that invited me to strike at Lamm?


Female Human Paladin (Oath of Venegeance) 2 | HP 31/31 | AC 22/14/18 | F+10, R+7, W+9 | Perc +5, Init +3

As the door gives way, Elise takes a deep breath and enters to find so many others, seemingly all with cards. The Uprising, The Keep, The Empty Throne, The Theatre...; it seemed each and everyone assembled had a card that perhaps in some way said something of them, or nothing at all.

Many seemed to know each other, and Elise sat back passively a moment as those who knew each other grew reacquainted. Though wearing a slightly pensive smile, Elise couldn't help but wonder how she fit in. Then, as the orcish looking woman embraced the Sarenraen Cleric, a flood of her own memory spills forth. I know that man, he was with me with Lamm the night before I ran afoul with old man. His name was..."Paulus? Paulus, is that you? Removing her chain coif and shaking out her hair, the lithe warrior reveals herself as she steps forward. No longer pensive, she smiles broadly and continues "It is you, I can't believe it. I haven't seen you in years! I'm so happy you made it out of there alive."

Looking each and everyone in the room gathered, Elise smiles "Cal, Rashuel, Mercy, Nic, Zev... it is a pleasure to meet each of you; I am Elise," pausing to answer a question that the conversation seemed to beg, the lean blond girl holds up her card and adds "and I carry The trumpet, whatever that should mean."


Female Human (Chelaxian) Legendary Swashbuckler 2 | AC 17, T 14, FF 13 | hp 21/21 | F +1, R +7, W +0 | CMD 16 | Init +4 | Perception +5 | Panache 3/3

"Well, juggling requires hand-eye coordination and quick reflexes, right?" Nic shrugs, tearing off another chunk of bread. "I'd say whoever picked this knows me pretty well. Not many in this town quicker than my blade - some'r just slippery enough to evade it. Like our mutual friend." The flame-haired woman's face darkens at her own words, and she chews her bread in momentary silence.


BattleMaps | Chronicles of Kassen | HeroLab Files | Loot Sheet

Poke.
Are you guys waiting on me? I was planning on letting the conversations go for a bit, but we can move on if ya'll want.


M Human Bard 6 (Chelish Diva) HP: 46/46, AC 23/11/22, F+4 R+6 W+5, Per +5, Init +1

"I'm a musician and a worshiper of Shelyn. I have a few other hats as well, but the theater suits me just fine. I've seen these cards used in fortune telling by a Varisian. I forget what they are called, but before I saw the note on the back, I thought it was from someone else I knew." He leaned back in his chair, growing a bit more comfortable. These weren't bad people, but injured ones. He could definitely fit into this crowd.


Male Half-orc Alc 1/Bbn 1 HP: 25/25 (dead at -15) AC: 17/11/16, F +7 (+2 vs poison/drugs, +4 vs Alcohol), R +3, W +0, Per: +5 (darkvision 60'), Init: +1

Zev also shows his card to the others.

The Keep. It's a city held aloft on a chunk of land that bears giant metal arms and legs, while smoke billows from some odd stack at the top. The shadows of people surround the edifice below, not in the city, but under it.

"I don't know what it's supposed to mean, but for me personally, I'm not seeing anything that represents me in either name or image. So, which one of you called this meeting, or is it even any of you? If not, my fears of a trap are growing."

It's funny, because in the ways he understands the card, it has no connection. But the harrow meaning is him to a tee almost.


Male Human Cleric (Sarenrae) 2 HP: 17/17 AC 17/10/17: F+5, R+1, W+8, Per:+5, Init: +2 Channels Remaining: 5/8 Loot Sheet

Paulus returns Elise's smile, "And I am so glad you escaped as well, my Lady...Sarenrae surely smiles upon me today. And Iomedae, it would seem." he manages to say softly, . She had grown into a beautiful young woman, it surely matched her soul. He chuckles wryly, "I go by Paul now, though. My friend Zev over there once told me that Paulus sounds too uppity and stuffy."

He takes note of the words of the tall nobleman, nodding. Some cards seemed to fit, some took a little imagination, and...he looks to Zev, holding his card. Some were very confusing.

To Zev he says, "I believe we were all called here, my friend. Our host is yet to arrive. Perhaps the cards were given out at random, and it's only the note on the back that matters." He shrugs, as he has never given much thought to Harrow readings. If it was anything like he had heard, their host was waiting, building up suspense, putting on a show.

I am ready to move on, or to continue conversating for a bit. I'm with the party consensus.


M Half elf Ranger 1

Watching from the alley for some time, Dorian has spied each person as they entered.

he fishes the card from his pocket, giving it a glance, The Publican, probably nothing.

when he is pretty sure there are no others. Dorian makes his way to the entrance.

entering only a moment after the last to arrive, Dorian enters the room a thin man, half-breed with elf blood. he is dressed in worn mix of clothing and leather armor. a well used short blade and a bow with a quiver at the ready.

he looks about the room not sure what to expect, he has seen all of them but none have ever seen him.

unless addressed he spies the bread and takes a piece and makes his way to an open spot within the room, nodding a greeting to each as ahe passes.


Female Changeling Ranger 2 HP: 7/22 AC 16/13/13: F+6, R+6, W+2(+2 vs. fear); Per: +7, darkvision 60 ft.; Init: +3

The tall woman, with mismatched eyes and sporting the armor of a guard recruit sits down on the nearest seat, trying to get a grasp on the conversation going on. She takes out the neatly folded letter, and reads it over again.

"Seems like I have 'The Dance'. I don't know much about Harrow...and I'm certainly not a dancer." She glances about nervously, trying to get a focus on the situation.


Female Half Orc Paladin [Redeeming Warrior of the Holy Light] of Sarenrae 2 | HP 24/24 | AC 20/12/18 | F+8, R+5, W+8 | Perc +4, Darkvision 60ft | Init +3 | Move: 20ft. Harrow Card: Demon's Lantern, Harrow Points: 1 (1 Used)

Mercy politely acknowledges the other's greetings and listens intently at the communal treatise of the card's possible natures.

The Empty Throne... Are the royalty under threat? Why would the Goddess forbear me of such?

At Annabelle's words she shifts from her thoughts and smiles, tapping her own scimitar while responding to the ranger;

"Perhaps not a dancer on the stage... but like me, the dance of combat is one I think you know the steps to well enough..."


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Female Human (Chelaxian) Legendary Swashbuckler 2 | AC 17, T 14, FF 13 | hp 21/21 | F +1, R +7, W +0 | CMD 16 | Init +4 | Perception +5 | Panache 3/3

"It's a fun dance," Nic grins, swallowing the last crust of her bread. "Something exhilarating about the twisting and lunging, the clashing of steel on steel..." She pats the hilt of her rapier fondly. "Never learned to dance - or juggle - but fencing's the closest thing I need."

Taking another swig of wine before offering the bottle around, she nods at Calcedon. "Cal, was it? Think I've seen you around before. Where do you usually play?"

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