GM Sappy's Harrowing - Heart of the Cards (Inactive)

Game Master Sapiens

Night had fallen on Tymon. The Champion had declared a day of celebration, and the city-state's famed fighting pits had been packed full from dawn till dusk. The people, already drunk with blood, had moved on to less visceral forms of entertainment, filing from the arenas into nearby—and sometimes adjoining—inns and taverns. Most had been busy betting on the day's matches: some drank away their winnings, and others drank to forget their losses. Some drank for the sake of drinking, and partook in games of chance. In one such establishment, a game of Towers was nearing its conclusion...

The common room was filled with the smell of smoke and stale ale, and the low murmur of a dozen conversations. Aside from Niklos, three people were sitting at the table: a human of Chelaxian descent, a heavily armed half-orc, and an elf wearing the telltale black and yellow of Calistrian clergy. The Chel was staring into her tankard, seemingly oblivious to what was happening around her. Though she had tried to keep a low profile, most of her equipment bore the markings of Molthuni armed forces, and the coins in her stake had been minted in Canorate. However, that was of no consequence. The deserter had folded almost immediately. The orc-blooded warrior—probably a gladiator—was squinting at his cards, sweat dripping down his temple. He would fold too. Again, that was of no consequence.

Niklos wanted the sword.

The table was laden with coins—mostly coppers and silvers—and a few pieces of battered jewerly. The Chel had put down her cloak and dagger before giving up entirely, and the half-orc had removed the golden cap he wore on one of his tusks. The crown jewel of the stake, however, was the Calistrian's rapier. The blade was made of mithral, that much was apparent, and the hilt and scabbard were of exquisite elven craftsmanship.

The elf was taking his time looking over his hand. The fair folk were always hard to read. Their monochromatic eyes and inscrutable haughtiness left little room for interpretation, and Niklos preferred not to guess. Thankfully, he did not have to rely on luck.

The swindler stretched and let out an exaggerated yawn, surreptitiously glancing over the elf's shoulder. At the next table there was a group of rough-looking merrymakers, celebrating who knows what. Probably mercenaries. The city was full of them, sent by the River Kingdoms' numerous petty lordlings to keep the Razmiri fanatics at bay. Amongst them was sat a Varisian woman, dressed like a dancer. She was hanging off the shoulder of some scarred thug, laughing at whatever story he was drunkenly recounting. The woman's eyes were on the game, however. She winked at Niklos and tapped the side of her nose.

The elf was bluffing.

Niklos turned back to his fellow gamblers, smiling amiably. "What's it gonna be, gentlemen?"

"Fold," grunted the half-orc, as expected.

"Shame," said Niklos, turning to the Calistrian. "How about you, friend? I don't mean to rush, but if you take much longer, the rest of us are wont to die of old age..."

The elf stared him straight in the eye, one corner his mouth curling almost imperceptibly upwards. "I am in."

Niklos' smile widened to a full-fledged grin as he revealed his hand, tossing the cards triumphantly on the table. "Five keys and four crowns."

The elf grimaced, laying his cards on the table one by one. A few pairs, but nothing that came even close to beating Niklos. He started to scoop up his winnings, reaching one hand towards the rapier. "Too bad, but you know how it is. Desna seems to be smiling on my humble self, presently..."

Faster than the eye could see, the elf's hand was clutching the scabbard.

"Five again?" he sneered, raising his voice. "Correct me if I am wrong, human, but I seem to recall that there are only nine keys in the deck..."

A tense silence filled the table, quickly spreading throughout the room as people at the surrounding tables turned their attention towards the sudden commotion. The Chel lifted her bloodshot eyes from her tankard, and the half-orc's brow furrowed in confusion. Niklos glanced at his sister, who had already stood up from her table and started to circle towards the elf from behind.

Without losing his grin, he went for the sword's hilt, pulling it free from the scabbard...

Gisele Anjara
Female human (Lirgeni) magus (card caster) 7 (Pathfinder Player Companion: The Harrow Handbook, Pathfinder RPG Ultimate Magic 9)
CG Medium humanoid (human)
Init +4; Senses Perception +8
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Defense
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AC 22, touch 15, flat-footed 18 (+7 armor, +1 deflection, +4 Dex)
hp 48 (7d8+10)
Fort +7, Ref +7, Will +7 (+1 vs. enchantment effects)
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Offense
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Speed 30 ft.
Melee cold iron starknife +6 (1d4+3/×3)
Ranged +1 harrow card (dart) +10 (1d4+9)
Special Attacks arcane pool (+2, 8 points), magus arcana (prescient attack[UC], spell blending [1 spell][UM]), spell combat, spell recall
Magus (Card Caster) Spells Prepared (CL 7th; concentration +11)
. . 3rd—trial of fire and acid (DC 17), vampiric touch
. . 2nd—acid arrow, blindness/deafness (DC 16), erode defenses (DC 16), scorching ray
. . 1st—chill touch (DC 15), fallback strategy, ray of enfeeblement (DC 15), shocking grasp, true strike
. . 0 (at will)—acid splash, detect magic, mage hand, ray of frost, touch of fatigue (DC 14)
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Statistics
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Str 13, Dex 18, Con 12, Int 18, Wis 12, Cha 10
Base Atk +5; CMB +6; CMD 21
Feats Arcane Strike, Deadly Aim, Deadly Dealer, Extra Arcana[UM], Harrowed[ISWG], Point-Blank Shot, Precise Shot, Weapon Focus (dart)
Traits star reader (sodden lands), two-world magic
Skills Acrobatics +5, Knowledge (arcana) +12, Knowledge (dungeoneering) +9, Knowledge (engineering) +5, Knowledge (geography) +8, Knowledge (history) +6, Knowledge (local) +8, Knowledge (nature) +6, Knowledge (planes) +12, Linguistics +7, Perception +8, Profession (astronomer) +5, Profession (barkeep) +5, Profession (sailor) +5, Profession (stable master) +5, Ride +7 (+9 to stay in the saddle), Sense Motive +3, Sleight of Hand +5 (+9 to hide objects on your body (doesn't stack with heavy clothing but does with bonuses for attempting to hide small objects)), Spellcraft +14, Survival +3 (+5 to avoid becoming lost, +5 on Survival checks to avoid becoming lost), Swim +5, Use Magic Device +6; Racial Modifiers +2 Knowledge (geography), +2 Knowledge (local)
Languages Abyssal, Azlanti, Celestial, Common, Draconic, Elven, Polyglot, Sylvan, Tien, Undercommon, Varisian
SQ arcane pool focus, deadly dealer, harrowed spellstrike, knowledge pool, medium armor, role dealer, wayfarer
Combat Gear pearl of power (1st level); Other Gear +1 mithral breastplate, +1 harrow card (dart), cold iron starknife, cloak of the night sky, cracked orange prism ioun stone (dancing lights)[UE], handy haversack, wayfinder[ISWG], backpack, bedroll, belt pouch, bit and bridle, blanket[APG], canvas (10'x10'.), feed (per day) (5), flint and steel, harrow deck[UE], harrow deck[UE], hemp rope (50 ft.), ink, inkpen, magus starting spellbook, mess kit[UE], military saddle, pirate clothes, pocketed scarf[UE], pot, saddlebags, silver holy symbol of Black Butterfly, soap, spell component pouch, star charts[ARG], torch (10), trail rations (5), waterproof bag[UE], waterskin, light horse (combat trained), 9 gp, 2 sp, 5 cp
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Special Abilities
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Arcane Pool +2 (8/day) (Su) Infuse own power into a held weapon, granting enhancement bonus or selected item powers.
Arcane Pool Focus (Su) Arcane Pool: Add weapon quality to thrown harrow cards.
Arcane Strike As a swift action, add +1 damage, +1 per 5 caster levels and your weapons are treated as magic for the purpose of overcoming damage reduction.
Deadly Aim -2/+4 Trade a penalty to ranged attacks for a bonus to ranged damage.
Deadly Dealer Arcane Strike: throw cards as if they were darts. Card destroyed when thrown.
Deadly Dealer (Su) May deal lethal damage as long as you have 1 point in Arc. Pool.
Harrowed +1 on saves vs. enchantment; can draw Harrow cards for bonuses.
Harrowed Spellstrike (Su) Single target, ranged weapon deliver touch or ranged spell, as spellstrike.
Knowledge Pool (Su) Spend Arcane Pool points to prepare a magus spell that is not in your spellbook for 1 day.
Medium Armor (Ex) Medium armor proficiency and no Arcane Failure chance in medium armor.
Point-Blank Shot +1 to attack and damage rolls with ranged weapons at up to 30 feet.
Precise Shot You don't get -4 to hit when shooting or throwing into melee.
Prescient Attack (Su) 1 Arcane Pool: Deny target Dexterity bonus against attacks.
Role Dealer (Su) Drawn thrown harrow card (align axis): threat range 19-20, (exact align) x3 (+4 conf.).
Spell Combat (Ex) Use a weapon with one hand at -2 and cast a spell with the other.
Spell Recall (Su) Spend your Arcane Pool to recall spells you have already cast.
Wayfarer +2 racial bonus on Survival checks to avoid becoming lost.
Deck Connection Spend 10 minutes to attune with your deck. Doing so replenishes any card that has been destroyed.
Heart of the Cards Harrow Casting as per the Harrower prestige class a number of day equal to half your character level.

The weather was miserable. Rain she was used to. Heck she hailed from a place called the Sodden Lands, but that was also a mostly warm tropical wet. This was a cold, drizzly, and quite frankly, a creepy night. No, night was wrong, it was barely dinnertime. But because of the clouds, the western facing mountain, and the edges of the crawling forest, it seemed several hours later than it was.

And if she ever saw that mapmaker again, he'd be very sorry indeed. When she left the moderate-sized Ustalavian town a few days ago she had found a helpful merchant near the gates. Maps and travel supplies, things people may have forgotten or didn't realize they needed when the packed for their journey. She was pretty certain now the passing donkey cart that lost a wheel when she was paying for her purchases had been planned all along. Because the map she'd been following the last 3 days she now knew was not the map she purchased. The changes were subtle. Major roads and landmarks unchanged, but the smaller routes, distances, all slightly 'off'. All designed to trap unwary travelers, bring them too close to a bandit ambush.

Her most recent horse, a Fell Pony she picked up in Amaans two weeks back, had thankfully alerted her to the ambush she ran across early this morning. Or things may have ended up much worse. She had managed to escape without too much pain or incident, loosing only a the few copper that remained in her coin pouch, but had received a bolt in her thigh as a parting gift after refusing to part with her silver necklace or the gold piece woven in one of her braids. The horse, now named Taru, was easily living up to it's reputation, and confirming the extra coin well spent, had out maneuvered her pursuers down a river embankment. While she would miss the Taldor Jennet, who she had named Aballon after the horse planet and lost a few weeks back to a severe wound from a wolf, Taru was quickly becoming a close friend.

The waxed canvas now draped over a low hanging branch created just enough cover from the dreary rain to allow her to light a small fire and provide a bit of shelter for her and Taru. She took some satisfaction is using the map for kindling. Trying to decide on a dinner of dried elk jerky or salted pork, Oh! I do have some rabbit left, just barely, but should be enough for one meal, Taru alerted her to the approach of a wagon. No, she realized, squinting into the now growing fog, a small caravan.

Standing from per crouched position, she stood tall between her small camp and the approaching wagons. As expected, she was quickly greeted by the lead scout. After exchanging quick pleasantries, and even quicker appraisals, the caravan joined her in the small alcove of trees. The caravan settled quickly, an easy routine they were obviously all used to. It was easy to see most of the travelers were related. She had passed a few such caravans since reaching Ustalav. Varisian wanderers, gypsies, con artists and thieves all names she had heard them called. But this was her first personal encounter with one that was more than just a nod while riding past. She had been told to expect seeing a lot more caravans of them once she reached her current destination, Varisia.

Once their fire was burning, pots and kettles set to warm, and canvas awnings stretched from wagon roofs, the travelers called her over. Come, Come! Join us. 'Tis going to be a cold night, there is warmth a plenty over at our fire. She nodded thanks and joined the noisy bunch. Upon the offer to share their meal, she tried to politely decline. She had no coin left which with to pay. We are Varisian, friend, stories, song and dance are worth more than coppers to us. You are clearly not from here and we would guess you have many stories to tell!

Several drinks, song, shared stories and a hearty meal later....

And this one, pointing to a small wooden square with intricate carving pattern, is from a puzzle box my ma bought me the birthday after my grandmother died. It's actually what prompted me to travel. When she purchased it, she thought it was just a fancy box. The Sodden Lands get a lot of detritus washed ashore from ships that underestimate the strength of the Eye. So every few months, folk gather up the wreckage looking for salvageable items that can be sold, used or on one rare occasion I heard of ransomed back to original owners.

This was a few weeks after my grandmothers passing and a few days before my 12th birthday. Someone from a few villages down had found a carved box. It had mostly survived the water. The lid was warped a bit, but otherwise in good condition. And it was beautiful. Stars & butterflies spaced in an intricate swirling pattern. A little more expensive than my ma was wanting to spend, but she made it work out somehow. And the box was mine. I kept that box with me for weeks. One day I noticed a small latch hidden in one of the butterfly carvings. Out slid a small hidden drawer, inside an oil cloth wrapped bundle.

It was a deck of cards and an old handwritten note. I couldn't read the note. It was a language I'd never seen before. The writing was small & practiced, it reminded me a little of my grandmothers hand. The card however, fascinated me. They were very old, had warn edges, but the ink was still vibrant. And the pictures were strange, some seemed happy, others sad, some frightening, others made me giggle. One of a rabbit wearing a golden crown. One of a wise old wizard with a book and a bright candle-light. A beautiful woman kissing a man's head, that was no longer attached to a body! A giant lizard clawing apart a world.

All other talking around the campfire seemed to cease. Everyone was listening, enraptured it seemed by her story.

I spent almost two years trying to find out what the cards were, or someone who could translate the letter. No one in our village could. The few trips my ma and I took to nearby villages didn't find anyone there either. Finally, one day a group of explorers passed thru the village. They were rare, but not completely unheard of. Legends and tales of sunken magical treasures from the old Lirgen nation, or one of the neighboring nations that were destroyed also. I think they were looking for Oagon if I recall correctly. They had a priestess. She had stars and butterflies on her robe. I was so excited, I might finally have answers. And indeed I did find the answers, at least partially, I wanted. The cards belonged to a Harrow Deck she told me. A divination tool from a far north country she called Varisia, where she was born.

The group she was with were looking for a local guide, between the jungles, frequent storms and ever changing rivers of the area, trying to navigate without a local usually met explorers a swift end. I convinced my ma to let me take them as far as the closest large village, only about 2 days walk. I'd traveled it often with her or other village members, so I knew the route well. There they could probably find someone willing to venture into more dangerous territory. The whole journey she spent time telling me everything she knew about the cards. While she herself was not able to 'read the cards', as she called it, her grandmother had and she knew all their names. So as we walked, I would draw cards, describe 'em, and she would tell me what the name was, and what they represented. The first night, as we stopped to camp and eat, she asked me which was my favorite.

That was easy. I pulled the deck out of my pocket and withdrew one without looking. It was a small hill, a small figure of a person sitting alone on top of the hill. The persons face staring up at the night sky. The sky littered with stars, easily seeing the constellation patterns in them. I will always remember the look on the woman's face when I showed her the card. She kept staring at me. She paused and chuckled lightly. Much like you all are doing now. It took what seemed like minutes, but was probably only a few seconds before she finally spoke. She told me that card was considered one of 'The Lost' cards that have been replaced and rarely, if ever, seen again. Before I could ask more details about the card itself, she then asked how I drew the card without looking. I shrugged and told her the truth. I always draw that card when I want to. It's my favorite, reminds me of the stories my grandmother told me of our ancestors.

My story was suddenly interrupted by the sound of metal hitting the ring of stones around the campfire. A starknife had been flung into the rocks. All heads then turned behind me and to the right. An extremely old woman stood leaning against the open door of one of the caravans. She had to be near or even over a hundred years old. But something in her posture defied her age. A sudden strength in her old frail bones. She spoke softly, her voice still steel strong and wise, Tell me child, did you ever get the letter translated?

Yes, I told her, it was a short letter. 'Never forget where you came from, no matter how far you go. You will always be blood. It matters not who your father was, you are still your mother's son, my grandson.' and the old woman finished for me "If we do not meet again in this world, may Desna embrace us together in the next. Rodica Banciu"