GM Mason's Curse of the Crimson Throne (Inactive)

Game Master Eminem80

The broad-shouldered man sipped his ale quietly, his eyes staring at the shelf stacked with bottles in front of him. In all my days coming here, I've never seen anyone actually ask for anything that's not a beer or a lager. Must be there for ambiance, I guess.

In the corner of his eye a grinning young man, about fourteen (judging by the impressive amount of acne on his face), placed his hand in his pocket and began walking out of the tavern, whistling a happy tune. Before a meaty hand grabbed his raven-coloured long greasy hair and twisted his left arm, slamming the head on the bar, sending a flagon flying. A couple of sad ale drops fell on the ground.

"Now you did it, son, you spilled my drink. Don't worry, your nose ain't even broken, it's just bleeding a bit. Now, you're working for Lamm, aren't you? Don't say anything, whimper once for yes and twice for no."

The kid, nose filled with beer, snot and blood, began whimpering intensively, before a tuft of hair was torn from his head, crying out once and then, remembering the question, cried once more, before feeling the tight grip on his head soften. Whoops. Didn't mean to do that. Ah, hell, gives him something to brag about.

"Now, listen, son, I want you to run back to wherever the hell the old s%@@ stain's staying now, and tell him this one thing. Quote for quote, if you know what it means. He hasn't broken Garvid Krein. He just broke his chains." Pulling the hair backwards, Garvid grabbed the kid's dirty shirt, wiped the cocktail of fluids from the bar with it, and pushed the kid out the door. A pouch mysteriously appearing in his hand, he tossed it at a young lady in the crowd. "Mind your purse better next time, sweetheart.", before turning to the bartender raising an eyebrow at him. "Gaston, turn your judgemental Galtan face away. I was being nice to the kid. If a Hellknight patrol had seen him pick pockets, off with the hand. If he's lucky." Sighing and staring at his flagon and the setting sun outside, the big man looked at the wall once again. Ah, hell, it's not like I've got anything better to do. "Pass me that bottle, the one with the elvish stuff on it. That's the one. Good man.", before dropping a couple of coins on the bar, right next to a puddle of beer. "I'll be taking it home." Stuffing the bottle in a pocket in his massive leather coat, Garvid stood up from the chair. Walking out of the door, closing his eyes at the sun, he stopped. I really need to stop forgetting it., before reaching into the pub's door, and grabbing a well-worn halberd, the sigil of two swords crossed behind a tower, grafted on the blade, almost gone, but still visible. "Let's go home."

His uncle Kaxon was his last living relative. His father had no brothers or sisters left alive, his mother's only brother from Cheliax had come when Calcedon's parents had been killed ten years ago to take over the family estate, but he was a monster. But there was something tragic that made him so, but his nephew never knew what that was. Just that he had eyes that held inexpressible and unimaginable pain. Cal had his own pain, and because of that he understood what it was like. And so he played.

This last day, he had played for nearly an hour. After that, the two of them sat for a long time in silence until it was uncharacteristically broken by his uncle. "Lamm." He croaked out of his misshapen lips. Kaxon followed the cult of Zon-Kuthon, and though he had often had the appearance of normalcy in public, Calcedon knew the man had twisted nearly every inch of his own flesh in some horrific way. In prison it was harder to keep up appearances.

Cal heard it, but he didn't really recognize it as having any particular meaning. "What... What was that?" he asked quickly, wanting to understand.

"Lamm killed my sister. I hope you sodomize him with a glaive." Kaxon's lips curled into a cruel smile. He had carefully crafted his last words to be as offensive and sacrilegious as possible. He had done a excellent job at that.

Bring up his dead parents had pretty much the effect his uncle was looking for. After weeks of visits and personal concerts, the kindness that Calcedon had poured out on him was requited with a twist of the knife in an old wound. Cal's eyes began to water. His emotions were somewhat dulled from the shock, but his wit was keen. "Sowing more pain into the world that will bear fruit after you have passed? That is just like you. Shall I have it engraved on your tombstone?"

In response, Kaxon merely stared with his dead eyes right at him, still smiling, still smug. It was a look of steadfast surety. There would be pain. There would be much pain. And you had no idea of the horrors that were coming your way.

Calcedon stood up, giving a slight nod of respect to the hardened criminal. In a way, he'd done him a kindness. Many people who had violent crime done never discovered the culprits. Cal could pursue Lamm and have him brought to justice as well. Perhaps in a month he could have him in this very same cell. But that smug smile gave him pause. Why would his uncle not have avenged his sister? Was he responsible, or did Lamm have connections in this city that protected him? Two things he knew for certain. Kaxon wasn't talking. And whatever path he chose, he would find pain.

Talin joined the Sable Company at an early age, training with them. His hopes to be one of the ones soaring above the city, protecting them. That is his focus. He started out at the bottom. He expected this. Start at the bottom and work your way up. Hard work. Determination. With time, and long hours, he trained, part of his training lead him to the smith. An old dwarf, Warric. The two grew close around the anvil. Around the sounds of hammers falling. They never talked much, it was a very strange but also a very relaxing relationship between the two of them. When he wasn’t training or doing his duties, he would spend time with Warric. Learning the trade, finding his way around the armors of the Sable Company. He grew a certain fondness in making and inspecting armor, especially the ones the riders had. Theirs and their mounts. Finally the time came, he now was finally one of the marines, and his training has started, training to become one of the revered riders. Now, after all the basic training, doing errands, now the REAL work has started.

His superior called him and all the young recruits to the main hall of the barracks. Well, that’s what they thought. Only to see most of the Sables there. It was breath taking. Not that they havnt seen them like this before, but the sight was still awe-inspiring. Then the news fell. Their captain’s pride and joy, the one thing that brightened up the barracks more than the Hippogriffs themselves… Aldrea, Juliana’s daughter has been taken by a criminal named Lamm. The hall grew deathly quiet. One could see the horror and shock on everyone’s face. This would not stand…
And so they were sent out. Save Aldrea and put an end to this criminal’s life as a free man on the street.

The bulky man grinned at the person asking the questions. "Abrogail Thrune the Second, Queen of Cheliax. Listen, Carlin, I've been working with you for seven bloody years, you can fill that f!+@ing paper by yourself."

The jailor couldn't help but smile a bit, at which point his face tried to go back to normal. "Alright, Garvid. Let's start filling it in. You know they need it in court."

"You are an a#&+@#+, Carlin.", replied Garvin, grinning at the questioner. Heh. Bastard likes procedure, but he's a good soul inside. Must be all the time with Zenderholm.

"Alright, officer, let's do it your way. Name's Garvid Krein, I'm from Old Korvosa. You can't find my next of kin, since my folks been dead for years now. Mom passed at my birth, since she was way too old to have a kid at these days, and my old man was usually sitting half asleep in the exact same spot you're sitting right now, until the prison escape a decade ago. Although your fat arse is straining the chair. Right, names are, actually Abrogail, heard my grandmother was quite the nationalist back in Cheliax, and Vasil Krein. Spell that with a 'v', you illiterate prick."

"Woah, Garvid, I sense some hostility in your voice!", grinned Carlin, writing stuff down.

"You two, get a room!", a drunken voice groaned from the next cell, rising from the dirty hay, just behind the water bucket. Garvid turned to the man, responding with a gutteral voice, "Tenro, you either shut your face, or I'll shove it so deep up your other hole, you're going to have the s&+!tiest thoughts for the rest of your life. Carlin, get him out of here, he's sober enough now." The guard left the quill and parchment on the filthy desk, grabbed his keys. As soon as the only other listener was out of the door, a friendly kick in the hindquarters as a parting present, Carlin sat down again, sighing. "Tell you what, Garvy, I'll fill the rest later. If I need help, I'll ask Papadopolo. He still tells stories of you growing up in the garrison."

"And he better, the ancient arse." Garvid lay down on the hay, taking the coat and putting it under his head. "So. I've been working here for almost a decade and a half, and the Marshall wants to kick me out because some arsewagon said I killed that Lord Touchy-Feely? She can shove the political pressure right up her fine back alley."

"Look, Garvy, we all know it wasn't you. But, Lord Touchy-Feely's been messing around with the Lambs for a long time, and some of them shanked him. You've brought him in, personally, three times in the dungeon, never with the same number of teeth he went out the night with, and when the bastard was found beaten to death in a gutter, with his junk out in the open, House Arkona want blood.", explained Carlin, pulling out a pipe and staring to fill it up. "Lamm must be f%*#ing ecstatic. Two of his problems out with one move."

"Good thinking, Carlin. Let's all be happy for the arse that abuses kids, kills nobles and ruins sterling reputations. Mine too.", smiling sadly at the smoking jailor. "So, now that that fisher is dead, I'm guessing I'll be out." Garvid stared in the distance. "Out, but not scot free, Garvy. Marshall's been saying that the nobles have been looking for some punishment, even though it wasn't you. I've just filled the papers for termination of duty. Although, she also said to tell you two things. Mercenaries are always welcome to help the Guard, and that the quartermaster's lost a set of standard patrol equipment to rust. And that she's sorry she couldn't do more, but we'll be seeing you again, Garvy."

Garvid stared at the distance. Just like that, fifteen years down the river. Because of this one little guttershite who can't resist not having child slaves. Dad would be f%&*ing proud. "Was that a threat or hope in your voice? With you guards, I can never tell.", Garvid forced a smile on his face. "But yeah, I'll be seeing you, Carlin, and when I see you again, you'll pay...", a demonic glare in his eyes. "Come on, I can't afford to pay for your drinking habits." Putting his hand on the man's shoulder, Carlin unlocked the door, muttering, "We'll miss you around here, buddy. Stay out of trouble, for my sake."

"No promises."

Bloodline Arcana: Whenever you cast a spell that deals energy damage, you can change the type of damage to fire. This also changes the spell's descri
Efreeti Magic (1/day) (Sp) Cast enlarge person or reduce person 1/day.
Energy Resistance, Fire (5) You have the specified Energy Resistance against Fire attacks.
Eschew Materials Cast spells without materials, if component cost is 1 gp or less.
Fire Ray (1d6 fire damage, 7/day) (Sp) Starting at 1st level, you can unleash an elemental ray as a standard action, targeting any foe within 30 feet as a ranged touch attack. This ray deals 1d6 points of fire damage + 1 for every two sorcerer levels you possess. You can use this ability
Hypnotic (1/day) +1 to DC of spells that fascinate. May make creature reroll against such 1/day.
Magical Talent (Mage Hand, 1/day) (Sp) Choose one 0-level spell - it becomes a 1/day spell-like ability for you.
Wishbound Arcana (Su) Use expressed wishes of nearby creatures as verbal components of your spell.
--------------------
My mother was a shaman of the Sklar-Quah. As a shaman she was not allowed to marry. She wanted a child very badly. So she wished to the fire spirits for a child of her own. That night a spirit visited her and filled her with a child. I lived a happy life, a simple life. One day while out with a clan sister Tama. Keeping her safe while she gathered plants for dinner. We were set apon by slavers. They surprised us. Immediately knocking me out. When I awoke. We were manacled and locked in a cage.

When we reached Korvosa's slave market. We were unshackled. During the night I "convinced" the guard. That we were friends and to let us go. As we ran Other guards saw us. During the pursuit we were seperated. I was able to kill and take the gear from one of my pursuers. But lost all trace of Tama.

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”Shut up! I don’t care ‘bout no damned cart! Get to work!” The older man shouts at him and then shoves Silvio up against the wall. The man’s rotten teeth and breath make Silvio gag. ”You’re lucky I don’t beat you here and now. You’re getting too smart for your own good, Silvio. Lamm and I might just need to knock that out of you.” He pulls the blond haired, young man around and shoves him towards the back room. ”Now get to work!’

Silvio stumbles and rushes into the back room. He closes the door behind him as the familiar noxious fumes fill his nose. ”You liar, Silvio. There was no cart was there? You want him to beat you? Break your hand again? Where the hell were you?” It’s a thin voice, muffled by the mask Sasha is wearing. Silvio looks over to the half-starved teenage girl, her hands trembling a bit as she holds a lit tindertwig. The shaking was from the shiver, though it could just a well be from the fact that she probably hadn’t eaten since yesterday.

Pulling out half a roll from his pocket, he puts it on the table near her and he grabs his own mask. He had breathed in more than a lifetime of the shiver fumes, but every little bit helped. At least he no longer shook like Sasha did. Either his body was used to the exposure or it just hid it better. Sasha grabs the roll and tears into it, gulping down bites and finishing it in a matter of seconds.

”I know, I know, Sasha.” Silvio glances back and sees that they’re alone. The other two tables were empty for now, but he saw the equipment going. The others must be taking some of the product to the storehouse. Silvio and Sasha rarely went because they were more useful in the lab. ”I needed to check on Arcadius. I hadn’t seen him or Maretha in over a month. I was worried something had happened to him.”

”Well, you’d better forget that for now. I heard Kilain talking earlier. I think Gaedren’s coming to visit.” Silvio nearly drops the glass vial he’s holding. He turns around and stares at her. ”Gaedren’s coming here!” Sasha nods, trying to seem nonchalant about it, but he knows she’s just as scared as he is. ”That’s why Kilain was so nervous about you not being here. You think Kilian will work you over? Gaedren might just kill Maretha if he found you missing.”

Silvio shakes his head and tries not to think about it. ”Yeah, makes you miss the days when he just let us go hungry, huh?” Sasha laughs for a moment, but then breaks into a fit of coughing as she breathes in the fumes. He smiles and then sighs. ”Ok, if Gaedren is coming, we need to get to work. He’ll want to see the latest batch.”

Pellius sighed a bit. Even when trying to help he stood out. He handed some dawnflower bread to a petitioner and then ran his hand through his hair. His partner next to him and looked up at him. Lord Valdur Bromathan IV. A noble was there among the common folk distributing bread and it was HE who was the center of attention.

"Are you alright, Brother Pellius?"

"Fine, milord...fine."

"There's no need for titles like that. I'm your brother, just like all the other ones. Just call me Valdur."

"Alright. Brother Valdur."

"We're doing rather well here. Perhaps you need a walk to clear your head or something."

"I want to help, Brother."

"You are, you are, Pellius. Don't doubt that. But you do look troubled."

There was no arguing that. He'd had the dream again last night. The dark alley, the angry cry of his mother as a knife plunged into her back, the fire that surged from her body and consumed the street, and then waking up.

There hadn't been a fire when they'd showed him her body, of course, asked him to identify her, but every time the dreams came, fire came with them. He wasn't sure what it meant, but he saw it almost every night now, and he was sure it wasn't Sarenrae speaking to him through it. It wasn't the fire of warmth or light but of rage. Valdur was right. He needed some time to collect himself.

He strolled among the stalls in the street, shoppers hustling to get out of the way of the big savage in priest's clothing. Was that all he was to them? The tamed barbarian? The unpredictable giant? It was sickening. Even if he wore a massive sign that said "MY NAME IS PELLIUS, I'M A NICE PERSON!" people would still treat him with suspicion or contempt.

A cry rang out that snapped him out of his thoughts.

"GENTLY USED CURIOS AND SALVAGE! PRICES NEGOTIABLE!"

He wasn't sure why someone would run a pawn shop out of a stall. Probably from the Shingles or something, couldn't afford an actual store. He was about to move on when a glint of gold caught his attention. It was a ring. A ring with a red and blue crest on it. Three crowns and a sword. Then he noticed the scar on it. A mark from long ago that marred the crest and made it useless for stamping seals. Could it be? He moved up to the stall and looked more closely. It was! The ring he remembered from childhood, always on his mother's finger, missing from her body when he identified it. His father's ring.

"Oi you! If yer not 'ere to buy, get yer giant arse out'the way!"

"Where did you get this?"

"Wot's it te yew? I jus' sell this stuff. Where it comes from ain't my business."

"You said it yourself. Gently used curios and salvage. You had to get this from someone. Who?"

"Again, wot's it te yew, ya brute?"

"This was my father's ring, you arse!"

"Wot, yer father was a nobleman? Yew, one o' those horsef*ckers? More likely it were stolen. S'wot Gaedren said when 'e sold it te me. Took it off some horsef*cker b*tch who probably stole it."

"WHAT?!"

The anger was rising now. A few slights were nothing, but this...this was dishonoring everything his family had gone through.

"You can call me whatever you like, you cur. I can take a few insults. But you will NOT insult the memory of my mother! Who is this Gaedren you speak of? Because if he took that ring off my mother, that means he is the one who MURDERED HER!"

"Can't believe what I'm bloody'earin'ere. Yer sayin' one o' my best suppliers shanked yer mum an' that she 'ad a nobleman's ring in the middle o' the slums? Shoulda known better than to carry gold around if she knew wot was good fer 'er."

And then he saw fire. It wasn't the fire of warmth or light but of rage. And it began to consume the stall.

"BLOODY 'ELL! FIRE! 'OW THE'ELL'D YEW DO THA?!"

He snapped out of it to see the stall ablaze, and immediately rushed to help put it out. How? How had this happened? He couldn't have just willed the stall to explode into flames. He saw Valdur, and the others, rushing to help, and soon the fire was out. Stupid, stupid thing to do. If he hadn't gotten so angry, maybe this wouldn't have happened. His father's ring almost lost.

"Awright! Awright! I'm bloody sorry sir! 'Ere! Want yer da's ring back? Take it! I don' need it! Man ya want's named Gaedren Lamm, runs a racket down by the docks!"

"No...no I'm sorry. I got angry and I didn't know that would happen. I just destroyed your livelihood in anger and almost lost it. Here's gold. It's all I have. Consider it compensation for the damages."

There was a silence between the two of them for a moment, the tension and hostility of a moment ago sucked out of the air.

"Um...uh...thank ye kindly. S'more money than I'd probably see sellin' this sh*t anyway. An' take yer da's ring. If Gaedren really did shank yer ma fer it, I want no part in it. Only one question. If yer a Zenderholm, whot yew doin' down 'ere?"

"Because my mother was a horsef*cker."

"Well...I'm sorry I said that, lad. Hope they see sense then. Lad with a heart like yours deserves better than to be treated like sh*t by the likes 'o me. On me life, I'll never insult another Shoanti as long as I live."

"You're only saying that because you're afraid I'll set your hair on fire next."

The merchant bit his lip, afraid to admit he was right. But it was enough. He took the ring and turned to Valdur and the others.

"What did you do here, Brother?" Valdur asked in shock.

Pellius thought long and hard before answering.

"I don't know."

She slumped even more into the dingy bench seat staring into the darkness of the mug of ale in front of her. It had been three weeks since she discovered the one responsible for Herger's Death, and three weeks of frustration. Worse she had already almost blown through the payment for her last job.

She didnt usually drink, but it seemed to help keep her mind off.... four figures intered the darkened bar moving to the barkeep and leaning over whispering something into his ear. She slunk lower trying to disapear even more into the dark drowning despair she felt but kept an eye on them regardless.

perception: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (15) + 4 = 19

Just last week a group of toughs had tried to 'ask' her a few questions for their employer... She knew they were from the cerulean society. These four were no doubt from the same. She didnt wait to see if they were looking for her, or just for entertainment, she slid out of the booth and followed deftly behind the tired barmaid heading torwards the bar, only deftly sliding into an empty booth and half turning away as the four men marched torwards the booth she had been in.

She moved for the door, hands low near her waist in case they made it to the booth before she could hit freedom.

HEY! There is no one in this...There she is get her!

One of the toughs said and she cringed darting for the door. She spat out a rough curse as she collided with some poor soul trying to enter the bar, her momentum sent them both sprawling to the ground. The man she collided with cursed too, but she didnt bother to pay attention as she scrambled to her feet and grabbed his hat taking off at a dead run down the road.

If she could put some distance on her pursuers she could melt away, she couldnt help but smirk at the sound of the four men cursing as they too crashed into the poor guy whom had just made it to his feet only to be rushed again.
stealth: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (5) + 6 = 11
She darted into an alley and squatted next to some garbage and another man, whos glassy eyes barely looked up torwards her. He was on something she could tell and smelled horrible. She threw her cloak over herself placing the mans hat over her brow feigning unconcious stupor. She had to plug her nose and breath through her mouth to avoid retching.

But she heard the four men sprint by, paying the two slumped forms only a half glance. She counted to two hundred before she moved again taking the hat and propping it up on the drugged man's head with a sigh.

"Oh Herger, what the hell will I do now."
She muttered angrily to herself, pulling her cloak about her and moving deeper into the dock districts. She wanted to leave this place, she wanted to leave it so badly but she couldnt... not until Herger's murder was avenged. This city... It held nothing to her now.

Melee
Battleaxe +3 (1d8+2/x3)
Dagger +3 (1d4+2/19-20/x3)

Ranged
Crossbow, light +3 (1d8/19-20/x2)
Sling +3(1d4+2/x2)

DEFENSE
AC 17, touch 12, flat-footed 15
Fort 3, Reflex 4, Will 2
hp 11

STATISTICS
STR 15 DEX 15 CON 12 INT 10 WIS 15 CHA 11

Defensive Training: Dwarves get a +4 dodge bonus to AC against monsters of the giant subtype.

Greed: Dwarves receive a +2 racial bonus on Appraise skill checks made to determine the price of nonmagical goods that contain precious metals or gemstones.

Hatred: Dwarves receive a +1 bonus on attack rolls against humanoid creatures of the orc and goblinoid subtypes due to special training against these hated foes.

Hardy: You receive a +2 racial bonus on saving throws against poison, spells, and spell-like abilities.

Stability: Dwarves receive a +4 racial bonus to their Combat Maneuver Defense when resisting a bull rush or trip attempt while standing on the ground.

Stonecunning: Dwarves receive a +2 bonus on Perception checks to potentially notice unusual stonework, such as traps and hidden doors located in stone walls or floors. They receive a check to notice such features whenever they pass within 10 feet of them, whether or not they are actively looking.

Weapon Familiarity: You are proficient with battleaxes, heavy picks, and warhammers, and treat any weapon with the word “dwarven” in its name as a martial weapon.

Glory of Old (DoG 11): You receive a +1 trait bonus on saving throws against spells, spell-like abilities, and poison.

Weapon Proficiency: You are proficient with all Simple and Martial Weapons.

Favored Enemy (Core 64): You gain a bonus on Bluff, Knowledge, Perception, Sense Motive, Survival checks and attack and damage rolls against the following types of creatures:
Humanoid (human): (+2)

Track (Core 64): You add +1 to Survival skill checks made to follow tracks.

Wild Empathy (Core 64): You can improve the initial attitude of an animal (like a Diplomacy check to improve the attitude of a person). Your Wild Empathy Check is 1d20 + 1

Weapons:
Battleaxe, Light Crossbow, Dagger, Sling, Bolts - crossbow (40), Bullets - Sling (10),

Adventuring Gear:
Kit - Ranger's , Fishing Kit, Grappling Hook, Kit - Cooking (AA), Kit - Dungeoneering, Kit - Gear Maintenance, Kit - Grooming

Shortly after he reached the age of 20, he joined the local guards in the 5 kings mountains as a guide. He was stationed near the capital for around 10 years.
Shortly after his stint in the local guards, his family moved to Janderhoff. He ended up going along, to make sure that they made it all right.

Soon after their arrival, his family started trading with the various human kingdoms and cities around Janderhoff. This trading by his family continued along bringing his family both wealth, and privilege in Janderhoff.

When Dolgrin reached the age of 50, his younger brother lead a Caravan to the city of Korvosa. He departed with 10 other dwarves. 3 months later, when the caravan returned, his brother was not there.

He decided to go to Korvosa to look into his brothers disappearance. Soon after arriving in Korvosa, and eventually getting an audience with Vencarlo Orisini, he learned that his brothers Caravan was targeted by local thieves, and that his brother went missing one night.

After questioning several thieves, he learned that the person in charge of the thieves that evening was Gaedren Lamm. His intends to pin this slippery person down, is to ask him the location of his brother, and if he is still alive.
This ongoing search for his brother, has taken a lot of the joy of life out of him, and he is dour, but still very loyal to the few friends that he has.