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

Game Master zimmerwald1915

The king is dead! In the Varisian port city of Korvosa, the death of a monarch leads to chaos. It's up to a band of bold adventurers to stop the spread of tyranny before all of Korvosa is crushed beneath the queen's iron fist.


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CG Female Elfmarked Cleric(Tempest Domain) 8/Sorcerer 1 HP: 39/72, HD: d8- 8/8, d6- 1/1 | AC: 20 | Saves: STR +3 DEX +2 CON* +6 INT +1 WIS +3 CHA* +6 (Immune: Petrification, Sleep)| Perception: +10, Investigate: 0, Insight: +6 | Channel Divinity (Short Rest): 2/2 | Wrath of the Storm (Long Rest): 1/2 | Spells: 1st 0/4, 2nd 0/3, 3rd 0/3, 4th 0/2, 5th 1/1, | Arrows: 0, Status:

Seeing that Tristain wasn't going to be getting up any time soon, Raseri begins looking for bandages, potions, any thing that might be of use, starting with Lamm.

"Goffred, do you have any spells that can help get Tristain on his feet? Alfsigr, come help me look for anything that might help."

If Lamm isn't tied up yet, Raseri will help with that. Her and Alfsigr will take 20 searching Lamm's body, Yargin's body, then the tables. If she doesn't find anything, she'll wake Lamm up.


M Human (Varisian) M Human Ranger LE L2 | AC17 T13 FF14 | HP 21/21| F +4 R+7 W+2 | Init+3 | Perc+7

Durriken nods, and grumbles over his shoulder, as he kneels to pick up his axe and search Yargin's corpse, fighting back waves of dizziness at the exertion. "Tristain gathered up a number of vials from Yargin and the taskmaster when we were upstairs. See if maybe there was something useful amongst them." He lays out the items he finds for Theron to examine as well, then moves to clean and sheathe his sword and dagger from where he dropped them on the decking.

He moves to stand with Raseri over the fallen figure of Lamm. The blood loss makes the man seem almost transluscent. His breaths are shallow. Durriken looks up when Goffred returns with the rope. "It appears we must talk. But not now. There are questions to be answered."


CG Female Elfmarked Cleric(Tempest Domain) 8/Sorcerer 1 HP: 39/72, HD: d8- 8/8, d6- 1/1 | AC: 20 | Saves: STR +3 DEX +2 CON* +6 INT +1 WIS +3 CHA* +6 (Immune: Petrification, Sleep)| Perception: +10, Investigate: 0, Insight: +6 | Channel Divinity (Short Rest): 2/2 | Wrath of the Storm (Long Rest): 1/2 | Spells: 1st 0/4, 2nd 0/3, 3rd 0/3, 4th 0/2, 5th 1/1, | Arrows: 0, Status:

"I wouldn't know. Goffred may, but I haven't a clue."

Shadow Lodge

The tables, and the floors surrounding them, are piled high with what turns out to be worthless brickabrack. Raseri and Alfsigr find many pouches and wallets, a few little boxes - including one that looks like it held an engagement ring - some wood and scrimshaw carvings, rusty knives, a few monocles and spectacles, and other such trinkets one would expect child pickpockets to take from the denizens of the docks. Yargin has only the clothes on his back and the buffed and shining hand crossbow he recovered from Lamm. Lamm turns out to be wearing a shirt of linked chains under his rags, and once Raseri and Alfsigr strip it off him, and once they learn to ignore the smell, it actually looks quite fine. His dagger, its handle covered in blood even more than its blade, must also at one time have been a showpiece. He also carries a set of keys on a ring, one of which looks similar to the keys Yargin and the taskmaster carried.


Male Chelaxian Void Wizard 5

Fredo looks carefully at the phials Theron had removed from Tristain's person and laid out carefully on the walkway. They were nestled in between the floorboards, which were just wide enough to hold them. He picks each one up in turn, holds it to the light of his ring, sloshes the liquid around inside, and looks for evidence of any magic. Cast Detect Magic. "I'm afraid none of these are going to be helpful," he says ruefully. "Pour one of these down his throat," he continues, holding up one of the phials containing green-yellow liquid, "and all you'll do is give him an ulcer. I'm not sure what this other one does," he finishes, pointing at the thick, brown liquid, "but it won't cure him."

"I am sorry I cannot be more help, Raseri," says Fredo, coming back to stand near her, Alfsigr, and Durriken. "But I am no priest. There are spells that use devil's blood to heal the body over time, but I do not know how to cast them and Lamm, evil though he is, is also human." Fredo gives Durriken a nod that is simultaneously an acknowledgement, a promise to talk, and a warning not to push the issue now - for both Fredo's good opinion of Durriken and for the sake of Durriken's health.

For now, though, he picks up the key ring and tries each key in the door.

Shadow Lodge

map

This foul-smelling room seems to be a combination bedroom and study. A wooden bed with a lumpy mattress stands against the east wall, while a round table heaped with dirty plates, bread crusts, stained goblets, fruit rinds, and scuttling cockroaches sits nearby. At the foot of the bed sits a large strongbox, a slighty rusted lock securing its lid. A sagging dresser filled with moth-eaten clothes well past their glory days is in one corner—what appears to be a wooden hatbox surrounded by a small cloud of flies sits atop this dresser.

Goffred detects faint auras of conjuration and transmutation emanating from the strongbox, and an aura of moderate divination emanating from the hatbox.


Male Chelaxian Void Wizard 5

Fredo crosses the room to the strongbox, cockroaches scuttling out of his path. He stoops down to try the keys in the lock, wrinkling his nose at the smell of an uncleaned chamber pot. It takes a little jiggling, but the third key on the ring opens the box, and Fredo props the lid open on the bedframe.

The box is filled with packages wrapped in white cloth and tied with butcher's twine. Fredo lets his magical sense guide him. The aura he needs is at the bottom of the box. He stacks packages on top of one another to reveal the one he wants.

From the outside this package looks like all the others, but Fredo lifts it out of the box and puts it on his lap. He pulls out his dagger and cuts the knotted twine, then spreads the cloth out into a square. Two glass phials filled with a light blue liquid, nestled in a kind of cheap packing paper, sit in his lap.

Fredo concentrates upon them to the exclusion of all else, attempting to divine their properties.

Spoiler:
Spellcraft: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (17) + 11 = 28

He smiles a genuine smile when he realizes what they do, and takes them out to the others. "I found these in what looks like Lamm's bedroom," he explains. "It seems he's squirreled away a lot, including some things that might be magical, but this is what we need right now. One of these should get Tristain back on his feet."

These are potions of Cure Light Wounds.


M Human (Varisian) M Human Ranger LE L2 | AC17 T13 FF14 | HP 21/21| F +4 R+7 W+2 | Init+3 | Perc+7

Durriken lowers himself to a squat alongside the bound, unconscious form of Lamm. He draws his dagger in one hand, then reaches into his pocket to produce a small earthenware flask. He unstoppers it with his teeth, then slides the point of his dagger under the old man's chin. He looks up at Goffred and nods. "See to Tristain. When all are ready, I will wake him."


CG Female Elfmarked Cleric(Tempest Domain) 8/Sorcerer 1 HP: 39/72, HD: d8- 8/8, d6- 1/1 | AC: 20 | Saves: STR +3 DEX +2 CON* +6 INT +1 WIS +3 CHA* +6 (Immune: Petrification, Sleep)| Perception: +10, Investigate: 0, Insight: +6 | Channel Divinity (Short Rest): 2/2 | Wrath of the Storm (Long Rest): 1/2 | Spells: 1st 0/4, 2nd 0/3, 3rd 0/3, 4th 0/2, 5th 1/1, | Arrows: 0, Status:

"Don't kill him just yet. Tristain is still looking for someone and I still need to find Alfhildr. I doubt 'Woggie B#@@!' is going to get me much."

Raseri takes one of the vials from Goffred and pours it down Tristain's throat.

CLW: 1d8 + 1 ⇒ (1) + 1 = 2 eeeeyikes, that should get him up, barely.

Once Tristain is awake,

"Welcome back to the land of the living."


M Human (Varisian) M Human Ranger LE L2 | AC17 T13 FF14 | HP 21/21| F +4 R+7 W+2 | Init+3 | Perc+7

Durriken shakes his head. "Relax, I said wake him, not gut him. You will have your answers."


Male Chelaxian Void Wizard 5

"Is that what he said?" says Fredo, frowning and furrowing his brow. "If it is, it might get you more than you think. 'Wog' and 'woggie' are rude terms for Vudrans. Lamm must be...unenlightened to use such language, so whoever he's talking about might have been Varisian, Shoanti, or Garundi instead of Vudran. But in Korvosa, almost any human who is not Chelaxian or Varisian would stick out about as much as you do, Raseri." Fredo says this with a sour look on his face, as though he's bringing bad news and doesn't want to be blamed for it. Living on the East Shore, Fredo's heard all manner of slurs in passing.


CG Female Elfmarked Cleric(Tempest Domain) 8/Sorcerer 1 HP: 39/72, HD: d8- 8/8, d6- 1/1 | AC: 20 | Saves: STR +3 DEX +2 CON* +6 INT +1 WIS +3 CHA* +6 (Immune: Petrification, Sleep)| Perception: +10, Investigate: 0, Insight: +6 | Channel Divinity (Short Rest): 2/2 | Wrath of the Storm (Long Rest): 1/2 | Spells: 1st 0/4, 2nd 0/3, 3rd 0/3, 4th 0/2, 5th 1/1, | Arrows: 0, Status:

"There's something you're not telling me. Otherwise you wouldn't have that look on your face."

Raseri's expression remains unchanged, but there is definitely fear in her eyes.


M Human - Loon 14 AC: 13 (11 FF) CMD (20/18) CMB +5 Fort +8; Ref +10; Will +14

Tristain sputters awake, immediately reaching for his leg.

"IT'S GOT ME!!!"

Tristain looks around, breathing deep before calming down enough to take the scene in.

"Wait. We won? I'm not dead, right?"

I think I was starting to see Trina.

Tristain will ease himself up, putting weight on his 'scythe and using it as a crutch.

Seeing Theron with the scroll, he begins to nod his head.

"Oh yeah, good thinking. Did you want me to carry that again?" Tristain will put the scroll back in his case.

"Thanks for doing that. I like being alive, you guys," Tristain smiles as the weight of the moment hits him.

I'm alive and there is Lamm.

Tristain will hobble over to Durriken, not putting too much weight on his leg.

"C'mere Durriken...you look like I feel."

Korvosa, I need you again.

Tristain will cast Cure Light Wounds from memory on Durriken.

1d8 + 1 ⇒ (3) + 1 = 4 healing


M Human (Varisian) M Human Ranger LE L2 | AC17 T13 FF14 | HP 21/21| F +4 R+7 W+2 | Init+3 | Perc+7

Durriken's body straightens somewhat at the warmth of Tristain's spell flows through his body, easing the pain in his throat, the bleeding finally stopping. "Thank you. I am glad you still had some healing left on your scroll. Finding Trina would be difficult without you to tell us what she looks like." Durriken's eyes are grim, but a slight smile shows on his face. It may even be genuine.


Male Chelaxian Void Wizard 5

"One of the unpleasant realities of life in Korvosa is that you learn language like that. It's embarassing to admit," says Fredo. "I didn't want you to think my thoughts ran that way. I have some ideas on self-determination for Old Korvosa, the East Shore, and the towns in the city's hinterland, and for combating Chelaxian chauvinism."

Fredo looks around, and sees that Tristain is up and ministering to Durriken. "But now is hardly the time, and this is hardly the place for politics. We should search Lamm's room more thoroughly before waking him. What we find might guide our interrogation, allow us to ask more pointed and less general questions." At that, Fredo backs away from the rest of the group, turns around, and heads back into Lamm's room. One by one, he goes through each of the packages, setting them on the floor, unwrapping them, and cataloguing the contents. The hatbox, and the rest of the room, he leaves for one of the others.

I'm on a public computer at the moment, and thus away from my PDF. I'll put up a GM post saying what Goffred finds, and what other folks find should they post between now and then.


Male Human healer NPC

Theron smiles warmly at Tristain while wrapping and tightening his own armor. "Good to see you will make it."
He stops to ponder for a second.. "Such a strange thing. The lengths I have and would have gone to see that abomination put down.. but after the words passed through my lips.. " He shrugs.. "Once I knew justice would be done, my rage was gone ... and a small petty part of me felt guilt for not being able to sustain that towering rage. I suppose the great sadness is for those who can never escape it."

Shadow Lodge

Goffred finds several beautiful trinkets in Lamm's strongbox. There is long, flat box made of teak and lined with what looks like velvet. Embedded into the front of the box are several flecks of green jade. There is a miniature golden crown that looks like it would suit a fine china doll. There is a well-polished, fist-sized scrimshaw carving of a kraken with red, glinting garnets for eyes. Also in ivory is carved a figurine of two succubi entwined in a scandalous pose. There is a thick, silver ring that bears the engraving "For Trina, the light in my nights" on the inside of the band. The last of the jewelry is a gold brooch showing an imp and a pseudodragon circling one another in profile. The former's eye is an emerald, the latter an amythest. The clasp – also in gold – is twisted and broken, but even so it looks like the finest workmanship of the lot.

Lamm apparently liked keeping fine weapons, judging from the dagger and the hand crossbow with which he had fought. Goffred finds a seven-pointed shuriken with blades that taper to razor edges, and an arrowhead made of a black metal that glints like a diamond.

The most delicate piece in Lamm's collection turns out to be a holy symbol of Shelyn. The dove's rainbow tail is made from pieces of abalone shell held together by miniscule gold rivets.

In addition to the potions, Lamm kept two other phials of magical liquid. The first, in a glass phial, is a deep green liquid that leaves tracks on the side of its container like wine, while the second is held in a phial of pure crystal and barely moves at all when Goffred jiggles the phial, like it was a glue or putty. It shimmers silver in the dim light.

GM rolls:
Spellcraft on green oil: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (4) + 11 = 15
Spellcraft on silver putty: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (14) + 11 = 25
Take 10 Knowledge (nobility): 18


Male Chelaxian Void Wizard 5

"Tristain?" calls Fredo. He folds all the items but the ring, the the brooch, and the green liquid back up in their packaging and replacing them in the strongbox with his mind Mage Hand, reasoning that they'll be easier to carry this way. "You especially ought to see this."

Once the others are in the room, Fredo will levitate the three items in front of him so the others can examine them from all angles, and handle them if they wish. "Most of what I found were pieces of jewelry. We can try to find their owners or sell them if we wish. There is also a dose of silversheen, which someone who uses a weapon and expects to fight devils can keep. I don't really care. But these three items need extra attention." Fredo takes a breath. He's not sure where to start.

"I'm not sure what this one is," he says, pointing to the green liquid. "It is magical, something a transmuter brewed, but I cannot divine its effects. At least not on my own. Tristain, you will find this one interesting," he continues, pushing the ring towards Tristain with his mind and bobbing it slowly up and down so the other man will take it. "At least it tells us Trina was here. As for this..." he says, pointing to the brooch, "I think it belongs to the Queen." Fredo is more dumbfounded at how such an item could end up in a place like this, in the possession of a man like Lamm than he is impressed by the aura of royalty. The queen was a petulant brat and the whole monarchy was a reactionary institution that was well past its date with the dustbin of history. But maybe the queen, or someone in Castle Korvosa, learned of Aless' assassination attempt on the Carowyns and Lamm's role in procuring the means, and had given Lamm the brooch so he would sabotage it.

"I do not think this is all, either," Fredo muses. "Something in that hatbox, if not the hatbox itself, was created with divination magic, magic much stronger than that which went into this oil here or into the silversheen in the strongbox."


CG Female Elfmarked Cleric(Tempest Domain) 8/Sorcerer 1 HP: 39/72, HD: d8- 8/8, d6- 1/1 | AC: 20 | Saves: STR +3 DEX +2 CON* +6 INT +1 WIS +3 CHA* +6 (Immune: Petrification, Sleep)| Perception: +10, Investigate: 0, Insight: +6 | Channel Divinity (Short Rest): 2/2 | Wrath of the Storm (Long Rest): 1/2 | Spells: 1st 0/4, 2nd 0/3, 3rd 0/3, 4th 0/2, 5th 1/1, | Arrows: 0, Status:
Goffred Giulianoff wrote:

"One of the unpleasant realities of life in Korvosa is that you learn language like that. It's embarassing to admit," says Fredo. "I didn't want you to think my thoughts ran that way. I have some ideas on self-determination for Old Korvosa, the East Shore, and the towns in the city's hinterland, and for combating Chelaxian chauvinism."

Fredo looks around, and sees that Tristain is up and ministering to Durriken. "But now is hardly the time, and this is hardly the place for politics. We should search Lamm's room more thoroughly before waking him. What we find might guide our interrogation, allow us to ask more pointed and less general questions." At that, Fredo backs away from the rest of the group, turns around, and heads back into Lamm's room. One by one, he goes through each of the packages, setting them on the floor, unwrapping them, and cataloguing the contents. The hatbox, and the rest of the room, he leaves for one of the others.

"Don't worry about it. I'm sure there are a few choice things that people call me behind my back. Besides, I think we all have our prejudices. I know I probably wouldn't handle meeting a witch too well."

---Present---

Raseri walks over to the box and starts to open the lid.

"What, like it could be a crystal ball or something?"

She opens the lid.

Shadow Lodge

The first thing that hits Raseri, apart from the flies bouncing off her cheeks and flitting through her hair, is the smell. From working in a tavern she knows the smell of raw meat, and from slow nights she has learned the smell of rotting meat. This smell is somewhere in between, with a sickly sweet overlay that merely accentuates the most horrible notes in the odor.

Raseri looks down to see the thing that smells so putrid. It is a human head, its flesh torn by thousands of mandables and probosci and sagging around its still-sturdy skull. The eyes are the gray color of sour milk about to curdle, and have misted over. The jaw lolls open to reveal the off-white teeth and half-eaten tongue. The juices have leaked out of the neck and have pooled in the cardstock hatbox, too much for it to absorb. A white, greasy film of congealed fat and brain fluid covers the thick, black layer of dried blood.

From the scarf tied around the head's mousy brown hair, and from the deck of silver-lined pasteboard cards that sit below the severed neck, unmarred by the blood which seems to have pooled around it, Raseri recognizes this as Zellara's head. Her face seems to have been caked overliberally with cheap makeup. As Raseri looks, a maggot's front pops out of Zellara's eye and begins inching its way down her cheek, seeking shelter in her mouth.


CG Female Elfmarked Cleric(Tempest Domain) 8/Sorcerer 1 HP: 39/72, HD: d8- 8/8, d6- 1/1 | AC: 20 | Saves: STR +3 DEX +2 CON* +6 INT +1 WIS +3 CHA* +6 (Immune: Petrification, Sleep)| Perception: +10, Investigate: 0, Insight: +6 | Channel Divinity (Short Rest): 2/2 | Wrath of the Storm (Long Rest): 1/2 | Spells: 1st 0/4, 2nd 0/3, 3rd 0/3, 4th 0/2, 5th 1/1, | Arrows: 0, Status:

"EEEYYYYYAAAAAAAAAAAA!"

Raseri drops the box and trips over her feet in her scramble to get away from the thing. Her wide eyes and heavy breathing give away the fact that she's scared by discovering the woman who owned the house she had spent the night in was days, probably weeks dead.

"W-what sorcery is this?!"


M Human (Varisian) M Human Ranger LE L2 | AC17 T13 FF14 | HP 21/21| F +4 R+7 W+2 | Init+3 | Perc+7

Durriken leaps to his feet, drawing his weapons as he rounds through the door into the chamber. Seeing Raseri on the floor, he looks around to see the cause of her outburst. Spying the hatbox on the floor and the contents spilled on the floor, concealed by a tangle of dark hair. He slides the tip of his sword under the head, moving it absently as he looks at Raseri. "I would not think someone as versed in violence as you would be taken aback by a mere..." His voice trails off as the face rolls into his view. "That's not possible. We spoke to her only yesterday. A twin, perhaps?"


Male Human healer NPC

Theron takes his already torn cloak, and uses it to retrieve the head. He inspects it as long as he can stomach, then finds a place to set it covered.

rolls:

fort and will if necessary (1d20 + 5 ⇒ (6) + 5 = 11 fort) (1d20 + 3 ⇒ (12) + 3 = 15 will)
(fort because its gross, will in case its sculpt corpse type thing.)
----
heal check 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (9) + 8 = 17
know religion or planes
1d20 + 5 ⇒ (20) + 5 = 25

Shadow Lodge

Theron cradles the head in his hands, examining it for signs of deceit. The juices secreted by rotting flesh leak through the fabric of his cloak and onto his hands, which he bears as long as he can before setting it aside. He knows there are several types of undead that can be created from a human head, and that beheading a body can sometimes prevent resurrection. He can also tell that this head seems genuine, and that to be in this state it would have had to start decomposing two weeks ago or more.


Male Human healer NPC

Theron empties his waterskin to rinse the filth from his hands... "It appears to be her .. time of death at least two weeks ago. Provides no answers itself... what else is in the box?"


CG Female Elfmarked Cleric(Tempest Domain) 8/Sorcerer 1 HP: 39/72, HD: d8- 8/8, d6- 1/1 | AC: 20 | Saves: STR +3 DEX +2 CON* +6 INT +1 WIS +3 CHA* +6 (Immune: Petrification, Sleep)| Perception: +10, Investigate: 0, Insight: +6 | Channel Divinity (Short Rest): 2/2 | Wrath of the Storm (Long Rest): 1/2 | Spells: 1st 0/4, 2nd 0/3, 3rd 0/3, 4th 0/2, 5th 1/1, | Arrows: 0, Status:

"C-cards. Harrow Cards."

Raseri's back is to the wall, but she doesn't make any move to stand. It's almost as if the shock of such a find has her mostly paralyzed.


Male Chelaxian Void Wizard 5

Fredo's heart leaps at Raseri's shout, and he takes a step back, grabbing the brooch and phial out of the air before they fall. He feels the bile rise in his throat as the severed head rolls out of the hatbox and onto the floor. But he does not speak, shout, or approach the head. Instead, he takes three deep breaths, in through the nose - much as it distresses his sense of smell - and out through the mouth. His eyes focus on the silver-rimmed pasteboard cards that spilled out of the hatbox into a big pile on the floor. It looks neater, more contained, than such a pile should, and the cards themselves do not seem stained or warped due to their confinement with the head.

When Fredo's heart calms, he can see anew. He can sense the same auras he did before, but not in the same places. The silversheen in the strongbox and the green liquid - now set on the bed next to the brooch - still radiate transmutation. But it is not the head, now just being transfered from Theron's grasp to a convenient spot on the floor, that radiates divination. It is the pile of cards. Fredo can see the Inquisitor face up in the pile, looking, it seems, straight at him.

"I agree, Theron, this looks like Zellara," he says slowly. "Those are the cards she used to summon us, and to read our lives. Though I doubt there will be any marks or writing on the back now." Fredo goes to the pile and gathers the cards back into a deck, counting them to make sure all fifty-four are there. Some of the symbols he sees flash before his eyes are familiar. Most are not. They feel warm and dry in his hands. "There is magic in them.

"Are you alright, Raseri?" says Fredo, seeing the woman slouching against the wall.

Grr, crossposting


M Human (Varisian) M Human Ranger LE L2 | AC17 T13 FF14 | HP 21/21| F +4 R+7 W+2 | Init+3 | Perc+7

"What, exactly, have we walked into, here?" Durriken sheathes his weapons again, and looks at the cards in Goffred's hands. "Is the whole deck there, wizard?"

Noticing Raseri still sitting against the wall, looking like she'd rather be climbing it, he offers his hand. "No doubt Tristain will be unable to prevent your sister from poking her head in here to see what's causing this fuss. It wouldn't do to have you look hurt...And we might want return the head to its box. It's not going anywhere, at any rate."


CG Female Elfmarked Cleric(Tempest Domain) 8/Sorcerer 1 HP: 39/72, HD: d8- 8/8, d6- 1/1 | AC: 20 | Saves: STR +3 DEX +2 CON* +6 INT +1 WIS +3 CHA* +6 (Immune: Petrification, Sleep)| Perception: +10, Investigate: 0, Insight: +6 | Channel Divinity (Short Rest): 2/2 | Wrath of the Storm (Long Rest): 1/2 | Spells: 1st 0/4, 2nd 0/3, 3rd 0/3, 4th 0/2, 5th 1/1, | Arrows: 0, Status:

Raseri swallows hard, trying to keep the fear and bile down.

"Are you sure? It's just, I dunno. It's just not right."

Raseri stand sand walks out of the room. She walks over to Alfsigr and gently guides her away from the room.

No need for her to see that. Well, no need for her to see more of that.

The boy, Hookshanks is still heavy on her mind and heart.


Male Chelaxian Void Wizard 5

"I think so," says Fredo with a sigh, as he finishes riffling through the deck. "There are fifty four cards here, though I don't remember if I saw any duplicates." He picks up a piece of cut butcher twine. It wouldn't go around a package, but the shorter length would be enough to hold the deck together. He winds it around, first lengthwise then widthwise, and ties it off with a bow. The deck then goes in one of his belt pouches, with his ink and pens.

Fredo picks up the brooch and phial off the bed, sending bedbugs scattering. He opens the lid of the strongbox a little and drops them inside, letting the delicate items nestle on the soft bed of the other items' packaging. He then lowers the lid and turns the key to lock it, and sits down, slouching forward. "I know I suggested we search this place," he says, looking at Theron who is closest. "But my heart is no longer it. I knew Lamm's petty greed made him do horrible things, but somehow I never wanted to imagine it would go that far."

Fredo's eyes droop. He looks tired for the first time that night.


M Human - Loon 14 AC: 13 (11 FF) CMD (20/18) CMB +5 Fort +8; Ref +10; Will +14

Oooh...many things to react to...

Tristain hobbles around to help the search of Lamm's hideout, mostly looking at waist level and above (so he doesn't have to test his injured leg too much) so is pleased when others find items of interest.

When offered it, Tristain holds up the silver band to the light and reads the inscription. Then reads it again, aloud: "For Trina, the light in my nights."

Tristain's breathing becomes labored as his reading sinks in and his crutch nearly fails to support his weight.

"For Trina, the light in my nights?!?!" Tristain repeats for those who did not hear it. Tristain looks at Lamm, bound and unconscious, and wonders if he can make it to lop off his head before the others stopped him.

No, I must wait. Others might want their chance to ask questions....

Tristain edges slightly closer to Lamm, his 'scythe making a decidedly angry rap against the floor.

The brooch and potion are ignored before the significance of the ring.

* * *

Tristain is startled out of his angry reverie by Raseri's cry by the hatbox.

Eager to provide aid, Tristain limps over to see what caused the outcry.

Peering within, Tristain takes moments to comprehend what he sees. He turns to the others, unsure what to make of it.

"How? HOW? We spoke with her last night. Lamm could not have gotten to her this quickly. This must be a ruse...some final laugh of Lamm's."

Tristain's eyes dart to Lamm.

"Yet another question to ask him."


M Human (Varisian) M Human Ranger LE L2 | AC17 T13 FF14 | HP 21/21| F +4 R+7 W+2 | Init+3 | Perc+7

"Indeed. Is there anything more we need to look at in here?"


CG Female Elfmarked Cleric(Tempest Domain) 8/Sorcerer 1 HP: 39/72, HD: d8- 8/8, d6- 1/1 | AC: 20 | Saves: STR +3 DEX +2 CON* +6 INT +1 WIS +3 CHA* +6 (Immune: Petrification, Sleep)| Perception: +10, Investigate: 0, Insight: +6 | Channel Divinity (Short Rest): 2/2 | Wrath of the Storm (Long Rest): 1/2 | Spells: 1st 0/4, 2nd 0/3, 3rd 0/3, 4th 0/2, 5th 1/1, | Arrows: 0, Status:

Raseri is in the large room with a hole in the floor with Alfsigr, but she hears Durriken just fine.

"Do you want me to wake Lamm up now?"


M Human (Varisian) M Human Ranger LE L2 | AC17 T13 FF14 | HP 21/21| F +4 R+7 W+2 | Init+3 | Perc+7

Durriken steps back out and stares down at the unconscious Lamm. "I have no objections. I only want one thing from him. You and the others need your answers first, however."


Male Human healer NPC

Theron stares pensively at the hatbox. "I have nothing to ask of him. I am done with him occupying my thoughts. Hopefully this will bring some peace Lillia and Tilda's souls... as well as mine." He snaps out of his daze. "But whatever I can do ... I know you are not finished. I will stay by your side until we all find some peace."


CG Female Elfmarked Cleric(Tempest Domain) 8/Sorcerer 1 HP: 39/72, HD: d8- 8/8, d6- 1/1 | AC: 20 | Saves: STR +3 DEX +2 CON* +6 INT +1 WIS +3 CHA* +6 (Immune: Petrification, Sleep)| Perception: +10, Investigate: 0, Insight: +6 | Channel Divinity (Short Rest): 2/2 | Wrath of the Storm (Long Rest): 1/2 | Spells: 1st 0/4, 2nd 0/3, 3rd 0/3, 4th 0/2, 5th 1/1, | Arrows: 0, Status:

Raseri gathers her almost forgotten sword. She props Lamm against the wall and rouses him awake. She stands with the tip of the blade right above Lamm's heart. Once it is obvious he is awake, she begins to talk in an icy, even voice.

"Listen well, we have some questions we'd like you to answer. If you answer them with out deceit or trying to be clever, I will not drive this blade through your heart." She pauses to let the words sink in. "Mine is simple. Who is it that you sold my sister to, and where might I find this person." Raseri's glare makes it clear she isn't in the mood for funny business.


Male Chelaxian Void Wizard 5

"Whose soul?" Fredo rounds on Theron, the whipping of his head carrying his shoulders and body up off Lamm's foot locker. He stands a little unsteady, his robe settling around his widely planted feet. His brows are high on his forehead, but his eyes seem to have trouble adjusting from the resignedness of a moment ago. They blink rapidly, as if afraid to spend too much time open and looking at the world. Fredo takes another deep breath, and though you can tell it's difficult for him, straightens up.

"I am sorry," he says. "I had not expected to hear Lillia's and Tilda's names again. Especially not Tilda's." Fredo's mouth droops, and his cheeks begin to redden, though not evenly. The left side of his face looks tinged with a little yellow. His hand goes to the pouch where he just secreted the Harrow deck. "The Tangled Briar," he murmurs. "The Marriage. The Cricket. I think I see.

"It seems we may learn more from one another than from Lamm at this point," says Fredo, looking mostly at Theron but with a quick glance at Durriken. "But wake him. So we can get him over with." Fredo walks to the threshold, rolls up his sleeves, and brandishes the wand he'd taken from Yargin. For the first time he notices how sharp the point of the instrument is.

I've got to stop letting myself be ninja'd by you, Ras. It totally ruins the flow :P


CG Female Elfmarked Cleric(Tempest Domain) 8/Sorcerer 1 HP: 39/72, HD: d8- 8/8, d6- 1/1 | AC: 20 | Saves: STR +3 DEX +2 CON* +6 INT +1 WIS +3 CHA* +6 (Immune: Petrification, Sleep)| Perception: +10, Investigate: 0, Insight: +6 | Channel Divinity (Short Rest): 2/2 | Wrath of the Storm (Long Rest): 1/2 | Spells: 1st 0/4, 2nd 0/3, 3rd 0/3, 4th 0/2, 5th 1/1, | Arrows: 0, Status:

I took the barbarian archetype Game Master Disruptor :)

Shadow Lodge

Lamm seems not to notice the bonds around his wrists and ankles, but his eyes flick back and forth between the weapons brandished at him. At Raseri's question, he laughs like Raseri is sharing a private joke with him. "Called herself Dame W., she did," he says, "but we called her Dot Woggie, cause, you know." Lamm's eyes flick upward, and he bursts out laughing even louder. He continues as long as he can before the tip of Raseri's sword tickles his Adam's apple.

"But I dunno where she lived. She never said. But she could always find me. She sold me what I needed, took Lambs or favors instead of dough sometimes."


CG Female Elfmarked Cleric(Tempest Domain) 8/Sorcerer 1 HP: 39/72, HD: d8- 8/8, d6- 1/1 | AC: 20 | Saves: STR +3 DEX +2 CON* +6 INT +1 WIS +3 CHA* +6 (Immune: Petrification, Sleep)| Perception: +10, Investigate: 0, Insight: +6 | Channel Divinity (Short Rest): 2/2 | Wrath of the Storm (Long Rest): 1/2 | Spells: 1st 0/4, 2nd 0/3, 3rd 0/3, 4th 0/2, 5th 1/1, | Arrows: 0, Status:

Raseri still holds the sword to his throat, a pointed reminder of the price any mischief will cost.

"Tristain, weren't you looking for someone as well?"


Male Human healer NPC

Theron's eyes narrow toward Goffred. It does not take him long to put it together that his daughter was part of this cold Chelaxian's life. He suddenly feels the need to sit, and finds a chair. It takes him a moment before he is able to recover and listen to the questioning of Lamm.

sense motive vs Goffred 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (13) + 8 = 21


M Human - Loon 14 AC: 13 (11 FF) CMD (20/18) CMB +5 Fort +8; Ref +10; Will +14

Tristain hobbles up to Lamm, holding the ring.

Gently kneeling down, Tristain gets close to Lamm.

"This ring. This girl, Trina. She was a friend of mine. Where is she? I won't be mad...I just want to know."

Tristain's lip quivers as he awaits the answer.

Shadow Lodge

Lamm looks wistful for a moment, and his left arm moves as if to reach for the proffered ring before he realizes he can't move. "One of the first things she stole for me, that was," he says, licking his lips. "I kept it so long, had it engraved even. But when I tried to give it to her, she said she'd outgrown me. Left the next day. Dunno for where."


M Human - Loon 14 AC: 13 (11 FF) CMD (20/18) CMB +5 Fort +8; Ref +10; Will +14

1d20 + 7 ⇒ (19) + 7 = 26 Sense Motive

"Left? LEFT?! She would have come back to find me if she just left, Lamm. Now tell me again, what happened to her?!"

Tristain rises to his feet, using his 'scythe to prop himself up. In his anger, Tristain releases the catch that allows the spring scythe blade to sproing into place.

"Where is she, Lamm?!"

Shadow Lodge

"Mebbe she didn't care as much as you think, boy," says Lamm. Considering the number of weapons already pointed at him, Lamm seems to accept the 'scythe with equanimity, just blinking a couple times in surprise as it springs out. "But don't worry for yer pretty. I never touched her."

Lamm seems to be sincere. At this point he seems to be reveling in how distutbed Tristain and Raseri have been by his truths, as though mental anguish on their part will be worth his eventual and inevitable death.


M Human (Varisian) M Human Ranger LE L2 | AC17 T13 FF14 | HP 21/21| F +4 R+7 W+2 | Init+3 | Perc+7

Durriken squats down next to Lamm. "You trying to get them to kill you? I think you are. Too bad I doubt they actually will." He glances around at the others. "I wonder how the Lambs upstairs will deal with you if we drop you in their midst, trussed up like this?" He pauses and returns his attention to Lamm. "Of course, if anyone wants to know anything else, I suppose that could wait."


Male Chelaxian Void Wizard 5

Fredo bites back the correction, incipient on his tongue, that most of the Lambs have since fled into the street. Instead, he chides "Better, Durriken, though still not public enough. But we'll get you thinking like a tribune of the people yet." Fredo's eyes focus on Lamm's, but he does not move from his place in the threshold. Lamm was already crowded, and Fredo would have more of an impact further away and alone than he would lost amidst a sea of faces.

"Make no mistake, Lamm, this is not a private affair," he says, his mouth seeming to be the only thing that moves in his whole frame. The wand he holds does not even shake from his pulse, nor his robes from the little wind there is under the fishery. "You won't win by making any one of us feel bad. The memory of your head falling beneath a tall knife, or bloated and purple under some street lamp, will last in the collective unconscious of Korvosa longer than the memory of your taunts will last in ours. That said..."

"I want you to tell me why Alessandro Giulianoff had you buy explosives for him, and why you felt the need to sabotage his plan."

Shadow Lodge

Lamm starts laughing again. "You talk like him, you do," he says. "Dunno why you try to hide it, using his whole name, pretending you dunno what he was up to." Lamm's eyes sweep up and down Fredo's body, looking for an identifying mark or insignia. They come to rest on Fredo's face, lingering on his brow and nose.

"Oh, I getcha," he says, cackling harder now. "You ain't with the Populists at all. Yer the brother. Well let me tell ya, the guy was a nut. Used those same pretty words. Made no difference to me whether he wanted to blow the whole Heights to the Boneyard. He paid good money. But Dot's was better, even if it was a discount and not hard gold."


CG Female Elfmarked Cleric(Tempest Domain) 8/Sorcerer 1 HP: 39/72, HD: d8- 8/8, d6- 1/1 | AC: 20 | Saves: STR +3 DEX +2 CON* +6 INT +1 WIS +3 CHA* +6 (Immune: Petrification, Sleep)| Perception: +10, Investigate: 0, Insight: +6 | Channel Divinity (Short Rest): 2/2 | Wrath of the Storm (Long Rest): 1/2 | Spells: 1st 0/4, 2nd 0/3, 3rd 0/3, 4th 0/2, 5th 1/1, | Arrows: 0, Status:

Raseri puts the sword back in its sheath and moves over to where her sister is waiting.

"I believe Theorn and Durriken have some business with you."

She looks down at Alfsigr, her face showing her weariness.

"Come on Siggy. I want to talk to you."

With that, Raseri leaves with Alfsigr and waits by the boat.

GM:
Raseri leans against the creaking hull and sits on the pier.

"I never stopped looking for you two, you know that right?"

Shadow Lodge

Your spoiler doesn't have an end tag.

Raseri:
Alfsigr sits on the edge of the pier, her legs swinging slowly over the turbid waters. She sets her pitchfork down beside her, across from Raseri. Her shoulders hunch forward and she looks at her knees and beyond, to the waters.

"I know," she says. "But Hildy was my family for so long, after Mom, Dad, and you were gone. It's not the same without her."

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