GM Zimmer's Curse of the Crimson Throne (Inactive)
Game Master zimmerwald1915

Acting almost on instinct, Raseri draws her sword and gently, but firmly pushes Alfsigr behind her. Her arm quivers with the strain of holding the weapon one handed, and fear. A very basic, almost primal fear.

"W-w-what sorcery is this! You were alive, then dead, and now you're alive again?!"

Yeah, yeah. I know it's a bit of a cop out to have her be afraid of magic, or this kind of magic at least, but to be fair, her ancestral home is on the northern edge of a forest that has a linnorm that is practically unkillable. And it comes back in a similar manner, it appears dead, then poof, it's back.

"Not quite, child," says Zellara reassuringly. She demonstrates by passing her hand through one of the upturned table legs. "Not the way you mean. It was very hard to make my old home seem lived in, and to remember not to pass through my own images, parts of myself. But it looked good, didn't it?" Zellara smiles, a twinkle in her eye.

"So an illusion then? Why?" Durriken struggles mightily to avoid following Raseri's lead and draw his weapons.

"I was scared," said Zellara. "Scared that Lamm had me. Scared you wouldn't find me. Scared you wouldn't believe me. Wouldn't trust me. Do you trust me even now?"

Something seems to break inside the poor girl. Raseri's sword falls to the floor with a clatter. her legs buckle and tears well up in her eyes. Her knees hit the floor, and the young woman doubles over, clutching her head, and begins to cry.

"I didn' wan' dis!" *sniff* "I-I-I jus' wan'ed to fin'" *sob* "by sis'ers! I jus' wan'ed by sis'ers back!"

Her small frame shakes as the dam to her grief breaks.

Poor Ras. I asked you not to break her too bad GM :P
In all seriousness though, I kept tearing up writing this.

Tristain enters the room looking for a basket of bread and wine under the table. It takes a few moments for him to register the fact that they had returned to the wrong building.

Am I lost? I might have lost more blood than I thought.

* * *

It's only when the ghost of Zellara appears that the weight of things begins to crush upon Tristain's mind.

Wait...this is the right place. Oh...Korvosa....

Tristain stands silent as Zellara pleads her case, trying to grasp at all the implications of it. Tristain had heard ghost stories, of course...and certainly had seen enough magic to know such things are possible, but it was something completely different when it was happening to you.

Tristain feels his legs wobble and begins to look for a place to sit. Backing against the wall, Tristain slowly inches down to a sitting position.

Tristain takes a moment and realizes that Korvosa wants him here probably as much as Zellara wanted him here and this is just part of things and takes a deep breath.

For you, Korvosa, for you.

"I...I trust you, Zellara."

Fredo is torn upon seeing Raseri fall. He wants to comfort the obviously shaken and grieving woman, but on the other hand, her preoccupation is leaving the children unattended. A moment passes, Fredo takes a few steps, and ends up behind the children. He puts his hands on their shoulders, and draws them close. He looks into their faces; they look like they've shut down. "It's alright," he murmurs, not very confidently. Unlike all the others, he'd killed someone, with magic no less, in front of Siggy's and Amba's faces. What they thought of him after that, Fredo couldn't guess. "It'll be alright."

He's looking elsewhere as Zellara explains herself, but somehow Fredo can feel her fear. He can remember what it was like to have Lamm's dagger cut his throat, to suddenly be in a small, dark space, to have that space open up and to have to share it with his own oozing head, for weeks and weeks, unable to scream or to get away. Fredo's eyes go wide. Immediately after Tristain finishes talking, he says "As do I, Zellara. Though I know not why."

I have a bit of a problem with the way this AP asks players to construct character motivations. If the PCs want to complete some goal related to Gaedren Lamm, and then he is dealt with in the first adventure, there isn't much internal that is driving them forward to the rest of the AP. As a GM, there are two ways of dealing with this. Well, three, but the third is just to railroad mercilessly, and no one wants that. One is to make it impossible to address all of a character's starting motivation in the opening adventure. The other is to force a character, through putting them in intolerable situations, to rethink their motivations entirely.

Yeah, that is a problem, but at least they give you some tools to try and get around that. On the other hand it does give you a reason to get everyone together in the first place.

After her initial outburst, the hysteria Raseri was displaying dies down into uncontrolled sobbing. The words that can be made out make it unclear what was causing the breakdown, but it does bring to light the emotional pain she's had bottled up for five years. The death of her parents, her sisters kidnapping, her almost hopeless, desperate search, finding one sister but not the other, and killing Hookshanks all seemed to have pushed the young barbarian to the breaking point. The revelation of Zellara's true nature seems to have been the straw that broke the cart.

Posting an explanation in the discussion thread.

Tristain is happy to be pushed or lead or try to find his own motivations. He is already set up to care about Korvosa and restoring the 'natural' balance to the city, which, to his dismay, has gone completely out of whack in the last 2 hours.

"Zellara, did you need us to do more? Have we done what you needed? I still haven't found my Trina. And something is wrong with the City."

Tristain still sits with his back against the wall, his injured leg outreached. Tristain idly pokes around the wound, judging the tenderness of certain spots.

"What do we do now?"

Theron has some understanding of what Raseri is experiencing. Any words of comfort would further compromise whatever was holding back her flood of emotion. Hold on just a while longer ... until we know we have time for that, poor girl.
"Trust is not a simple thing, but considering your motivations ... I take no issue with your actions. I assume if you are asking if we trust you now, there is more you wish of us. I have no objection to hearing you out. ...hopefully you can trust us enough to avoid any further prevarication."

Durriken's head spins with the unexpectedness of the events going on around him. What has gotten into the woman?

"You directed us to Lamm. That is good enough for me. But there are still a number of questions left to be answered. Starting with, how do we all fit into this? I am sure some of us would rather see at least one of the others dead, as opposed to work together. And if we killed Lamm and found...you...Why are you still here? I thought ghosts disappeared if the source of their pain was dealt with."

He paces around the room, trying to hide his discomfort with the apparition's presence. "And we still have to find two people. Which will be difficult if we don't find somewhere that these two children can stay in safety - a difficult proposition given the state of the city."

"You are like Korvosa, child" says Zellara, her words addressing Raseri. She seems to understand the young barbarian despite her incoherance. She is, however speaking in obvious metaphor, and her words address Tristain's point as well. "You were out of balance for a long time. What is happening to you now is not the cause of that imbalance, but its result. And out of a painful rupture may come redress." Zellara kneels down by Raseri, splinters of wood piercing the insubstantial hem of her dress. She reaches out to Raseri for a moment, then pulls back before they touch.

"I am here to help," she says. "It is...difficult for me to sustain this form for very long. But touch me, and I will feel your feelings, and you will feel mine. It is good to know that someone understands.

"Korvosa holds many strange and wondrous things. Hold me to them, and you will know what they do. And when the fates move me, I will appear before you again as I am now, and show you the past, present, and future. Yours, and that of the city you must save." As she speaks her last few lines, her body begins to fade, becoming more transparent. Dust motes can be seen through her, then the back wall of the house, and then she is gone.

Tristain avoids looking at Raseri as she cries, his own thoughts jumbled and tumbling in his mind.

I feel like she does. On the inside.

Raseri still shaking from the raw emotions that she had bottled up for so long, looks up at the image of the woman, and almost as if fate had ordained it, put her forehead right in Zellara's palm.

Sorry about making you retcon that a little. I'll leave what happens after for after I find what happens now.

No issue. Though since Zellara was an insubstantial illusion, Raseri's head would have hit the floor.

Fredo keeps one hand on Amba's shoulder, but roots around in his pouch with the other. After a few seconds his hand lights on a loose end of coarse twine, and follows it back to Zellara's deck. He pulls it out and offers it to Raseri, stretching to reach. "I think you should have this," he says, talking around something in his throat. "What she said, about feeling her feelings? I felt them. Memories of feelings, when she was in the hatbox." Fredo bites off the end of his sentence. He doesn't want to describe the scene anymore out loud. He doesn't want to hear it, he doesn't want the others to hear it, and he doesn't want the children, who never had to see it or live it, to hear it. "And I could feel her sincerity...I think you should have it," he finishes lamely. He coughs, and turns to Durriken, grateful that someone was concerned with practical matters. Much easier to deal with.

"Alfsigr will stay with Raseri," he says, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, "and I told Amba he could stay with me. Didn't I?" The boy nods. "If we can find the others, then we'll have a problem. If anyone's got any ideas as to where they'll be safe, let's hear them.

"But before we do," says Fredo, "we should clear the air. I don't want you dead, Durriken, though depending on what Tilda told him Theron might want such a fate for me." Fredo sighs. "How is Tilda these days?"

Theron reels from Goffred's question. He answers without emotion. "My daughter is dead."

"That can't be!" says Fredo. He lets the kids go, turns to the wall, and leans his forehead against it. His words are muffled by the wall. "None of it can. She told me her father left her and her mother long ago, that he could be dead for all she knew. And how could she be dead? She was fine! Strong, and happy! What happened?"

Oh, oops. Guess I misread that. I thought Ras would need to look up. and I need to stop writing such long posts. :P

Raseri moves to a sitting position as Goffred speaks to her. She takes the deck with both her hands and holds it close to her heart. She wipes away the tears with the heel of one of her hands and looks up at the wizard.

"Thank you. All of you."

She meets the eyes over everyone around her, and even manages a weak smile. She carefully puts the deck into one of her pockets as she stands up. Hearing, Fredo's remark about clearing the air, she gently begins pushing the two children out of the room. Theron's answer to Fredo's question caused her to wince in sympathy, and she winces more as Fredo reacts to the news.

"This is probably going to get very messy and loud. I think we should go get some fresh air outside."

She guides the two kids outside onto the front steps and closes the door behind her. She sits down on the steps and motions for the other two to do the same.

"I'm sorry you two had to see me like that. I think you'd understand the pain of losing your momma and poppa. I know Siggy here does. I also know she understands the pain of losing a sister, but to be so close, and still not be able to bring both of you with me, is gut-wrenching. It's like someone took my sword and ran me through," Raseri sighs and pauses for a long moment, trying to sort through what was left after the wall she put around her grief had burst, "But I'm happy. I'm happy that I found one of my little elves," a smile, small and genuine, spreads across her face and a twinkle in her eyes appears as she ruffles her little sister's hair, "I haven't cried in five years, but I'm glad that I got to cry some tears of joy along with all of the pain and grief."

Theron's ire is raised. He takes a step toward Fredo ... trying to keep his voice hushed. "What happened? Why don't you tell me what you feared she had told me about you.. Were you the one that introduced her to Lamm's product?"

Tristain sits and thinks, quasi-hearing the discussions around him, more inverted than usual.

I'm tired, half-dead, and my city is in flames. I still haven't found Trina and I'm in a room with a ghost and 4 strangers and two children.

Tristain lightly thumps his head against the wall as he reflects.

"I still need to find Trina. And I should probably go out and try to help the citizens of Korvosa. There are many that are probably suffering now." Tristain whispers to himself, trying to prioritize what he needs to do.

Tristain looks around for his backpack, his hands itching for chalk...his medium for expression when his thoughts get too busy.

"No! I never touched the stuff, and I never sold it neither!" Fredo's provincial accent, that he usually works so hard to hide under a veneer of urban sophistication, is beginning to come out in his speech. He doesn't remember feeling this guilty even when under questioning by the Guard. He turns around, blinking hard and at a furious pace. "Tilda and her mam, I was their only friend when they came to Korvosa. They'd tried to settle in Sirathu, but couldn't find work, and didn't want to live off charity. My mam told me they were coming, and I opened my home to them."

The words are coming faster now. Fredo hadn't told anyone this before, though Lillia knew of course. "Tilda and I got together soon after she moved in. Like I say, we were happy. Wanted to get married, have a family. But...I couldn't." Fredo glares at Durriken and Tristain, daring them to say anything. He's glad Raseri's out of the room. No longer held back by his blinking, Fredo's eyes begin to water. "Went to an orphanage, but Tilda worked in a bar, and I was a student. Not respectable. She threw me out, kept the place. Made it right with the landlord and everything. I moved out to East Shore."

Fredo wipes his eyes and nose with the back of his hand. He sniffles a little. "I don't know how she found out about Shiver. Maybe she found my notes on Lamm, read them during the night. Maybe she threw me out because I never told her. Maybe she was right to. But I never wanted to hurt her."

Uncomfortable with Fredo's breakdown ... both tears and slipping mask, Theron backs down. He suddenly realizes how ridiculous he looks, and rummages for his cloak. "None of that concerns me. Your guilt is your own, and I have no reason to burden you with more..." He finds his cloak dusts it off and dons it.

Tristain stops looking for his backpack as Fredo's outburst begins to rival Raseri's.

Maybe our emotions are set to burn much like Korvosa so that we all can arise anew from the ashes, full of purpose and life again.

Tristain grabs his backpack and drags it back to where we was sitting.

Am I next to ignite? Not yet. Once I find Trina. Only then.

"We all have our reasons to feel guilty. In the end, Lamm has ruined portions of all of our lives. The how and the why," He pauses to glance at Goffred, "Are best discussed later."

He continues past the two men to where Tristain sits on the floor. "You need rest, first and foremost. Lamm was spiteful, but I feel he was truthful. It sounds as though your Trina left of her own accord, and should be safe for one night. You haven't the strength to aid Korvosa in your current state. Korvosa will not collapse in an evening."

Why continue this charade? His woman is gone, the second child likewise. Lamm is dead. What more do you need from them?

He glances at the door that Raseri ushered the two children through. They are me. I couldn't save myself. I can save them.

Tristain slumps against the wall and begins to dig through his backpack, his hand looking for his chalkboard.

Smiling as he pulls it out, he holds it to his face and blows away the bits of chalk from previous sketches.

It's still here.

While listening to others discuss, Tristains hands will get busy sketching mindlessly as a form of stress relief.

Theron's vision gets too clear, and he starts to feel a faint pulsing 'whump' behind his eyes like far away drums. 'headache inevitable... '

"If we are staying here, get settled in. Progress was made today, and hope remains. Banish dark self-defeating thoughts from your mind. If we are to forge on, our will must be strong. Belief in ourselves and each other must be unwavering."

Theron then checks the security of the doors and windows before clearing a spot for himself to sleep.

Amba looks at Siggy and nods slowly when Raseri talks about losing parents. She pats his hand knowingly, and he looks down at the ground. Siggy gets up when Raseri ruffles her hair, following the withdrawing hand into a hug. "I'm happy you found me too, Ras," she says into her big sister's shoulder. The fabric gets in her mouth a little, tickling her tongue and making her laugh. She pulls back a little and looks into Raseri's face, still laughing like it's a relief to do so. Amba joins in after a moment of hesitation, smiling because Siggy is. Raseri can feel Zellara's unspecific encouragement and support.

"You're wrong," says Fredo, as Theron turns coldly away. He cannot bring himself to move from the wall, but he is sure his voice will carry to the older man. "There is one more thing you have to tell me: where I can find Tilda's body. I have to tell her how sorry I am. If I had been a better, or even a worse, man, she might still be alive. For her, I was exactly the wrong person." Fredo lets himself slide down into a sitting position, his robe bunching up behind him in a very uncomfortable cushion. His thoughts turn to Amba, to whom he'd promised a home. Can I, in good conscience, take him in, now that I know doing so led to Tilda's death? Fredo closes his eyes to think. Now that she is gone, he can feel Zellara's absence, and he misses her unobtrusive empathy.

"If that's what you want," says Fredo to Durriken, waving his hand around a little. He doesn't open his eyes. "Though your imagination is more developed than mine if it can conjure a better time and place than this." He tries to continue, but Theron speaks first. Fredo nods in agreement. "You know that putting it off means I cannot let you go. And Theron is right about one thing: if we are sticking together, we must come to depend on one another, to feel all our pains and work together toward and revel in all our successes." Fredo has a hard time inflating his lungs properly from his reclining position, but he does his best to call out.

"Raseri, we're alright now. You can come back in, and bring the kids."

Raseri pulls the boy into the hug as well. Though the pain is still there, for just a moment joy overpowers it. Her laughter rings out into the night as the stars begin to appear. after a few moments sets the two children to where they can see the night sky.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?"

Alfsigr nods slowly, but after looking for a few moments turns to her sister. "Ras?" she says, "Where did all the stars go? There were so many more above the Keep." Amba looks confused. The boy has obviously spent his whole life in Korvosa, and cannot imagine a different, let alone a more beautiful or inspiring, night sky.

I know what kids do! They ask questions. Also, I'm trying to work with the information you shared about the Whitescale clan. Let me know if I'm straying into territory Alfsigr wouldn't know about.

She might have heard about it from her momma or poppa, but she certainly hasn't been there. Even Ras hasn't been there. The three of them have only ever heard stories, but the question is still one she might ask.

Ras looks down at her sister and then back up at the sky.

"I don't know. Maybe a witch darkened them, or maybe the fey shine the stars back home."

Durriken turns back to Goffred, then to the others before leaning on the door Raseri went through and settling his gaze back on the mage. "Fine. I am a killer. I learned to at a young age, and I became very good at it. I had to be, I had no other talents - I couldn't steal to get by. So it's how I managed to stay useful to Lamm. For a time, at least." He fingers the scar on his throat. "I don't kill for sport. But I don't pretend to be something I'm not, either."

"As to what's between us, had your brother succeeded in doing what Lamm says he was after, he would have ended up hanging in the public square, like Lamm is right now. Only more people would be dead." He lets his words linger for a few moments before continuing. "For what it's worth, I regret he was your brother. But I had very little choice in the matter. You can target your anger at me, you can kill me if you want...but in the end, your brother's decisions are what really killed him."

"I'm not a good man, but I don't turn my back on those who I work with. As to whether you can trust me, you all have to make that decision for yourself." Finished speaking, he steps away from the door and opens it so Raseri and the children can re-enter the room.

"While it may be what you promised to keep the children near you and Raseri, it's far from practical. We can't take them with us into danger - They'll either get underfoot or we risk them getting hurt." He pauses. "I can ask my employer to watch them. He's a good man, and he and his wife have no children. They'll at least be safe there."

Raseri turns to see Durriken in the doorway, her initial puzzlement turns to astonishment as Durriken makes his offer. The words catch in throat as she tries to speak.

"Thank you. Thank you from the bottom of my heart."

She looks at her sister, but she still talks to Durriken.

"If you don't mind, can my sister and I come with you when you go ask him. She may need a safe place to stay, but I also need work. I'm on my last few coins."

She looks up and gives the ranger a smile as she ushers the children back inside and closes the door behind herself. She looks around the room for Tristain. She finds him sitting on the ground, sketching.

"I must apologize, you almost lost your life and I have still not thanked you for your help." She kneels down so she's eye-level instead of looking down at him. "Rest well my friend. We have much to do tomorrow." She looks around the room at the other three men as she speaks a little louder. "The same goes for all of you."

With that, Ras and her sister is off to bed and a hopefully peaceful slumber.

Tristain's hand keeps moving, chalk applying to the board. Occasionally, one of Tristain's fingers would smear a chalk line to lend a blur or element of motion to the art.

Tristain holds his breath as Durriken and Fredo speak.

In my condition, I can do little to stop anything should it come to violence.

Tristain wonders if and when he will get his answers...and even if he wants them. Looking at the pain that Fredo and Durriken are in, he's not sure.

Durriken nods. "I don't know that he needs another apprentice, but we will go on the morrow." He checks to make sure the exterior doors are secured. "I will watch for now. If there are riots going on, being inside may not be enough. The rest of you rest. Tomorrow we can figure out just what we have here..." He kicks the footlocker, "And determine a course of action."

He settles his back against the wall so he can keep his eyes on the door, his bow across his knees, ready for use if someone breaks down the door. To Tristain, he actually seems relaxed, as though his revelation and offering to find a home for the children had put him at ease.

"I must apologize, you almost lost your life and I have still not thanked you for your help." She kneels down so she's eye-level instead of looking down at him. "Rest well my friend. We have much to do tomorrow."

Tristain looks up, surprised that someone had approached him, but happy to hear Raseri's words.

"It was nothing, Raseri. I would do it gladly again...we were on a common path and so it was as it was supposed to be. Besides, Korvosa has need of me yet." Tristain begins to look, almost for the first time, at the sketch he had done.

His head twitches back as he analyzes what he had drawn begins to take shape...an image in his subconscious mind or given to him by Korvosa.

"Yeah, we should sleep. This was a weird drawing. Not sure why I drew it."

Kyson turns around his chalkboard for all to see.

Clearly visible are 5 figures...blurry depictions of Raseri (in front), flanked by Durriken (a strange bow in hand) and Theron (an blue halo around his head) and Fredo and Tristain behind. They face an open door clealy set within the bounds of Korvosa...a few buildings are visible. Behind the door is darkness and red energy, an unseen foreboding enemy.

Tristain laughs uneasily. "I'm not sure where that came from. Or what it means. Yeah, maybe I really should get to sleep. I maybe up early on the morrow for some quiet time, but I'll be back. We have much to do."

Tristain laughs off the image drawn by his hand, and begins to make a bed for himself, using his backpack as a pillow.

Must be loss of blood...I swear. Or art...pure art.

Tristain forces himself to calm down and get some sleep.

Fredo nods his head at Raseri as she hunkers down for the night. She was right, of course. There was much to do tomorrow. Off the top of his head, Fredo could think of finding the other Lambs, paying respects to Tilda, picking up the trail of 'Dame W.' and Trina, getting the brooch off their hands, and potentially channeling the crowd to a progressive purpose. It was all probably too much for one day. They could begin each task, or finish a few. But that was something they could discuss in the morning.

Tristain's easel scrapes on the floor as he turns it around, and Fredo opens his eyes to look. The first thing that strikes him is the monochrome red background. For some reason the red Tristain used calls to mind ancient symbolism for Fredo: red was associated with rage, destruction, and the west. Nowadays it was also associated with diabolism, as in the red pentacle of Asmodeus' faithful. Both Cheliax and Korvosa flew a red flag. And of course, red was the color of political turmoil and revolution, the symbolism spreading from Galt in the east. Whatever had inspired Tristain, it was not random chance. Fredo's face, and those of the others, seem almost to bleed out of the background, or to fade into it depending on where your eye starts. It is a disturbing image.

Fredo gets up when Tristain puts it away and begins to bed down. He's glad everyone's falling asleep before he responds to Durriken. Fredo has an idea of what he wants to say, but he wants it to be private. He sidles over to the lean man, now set to keeping watch, and speaks to him in a low murmur.

"Aless was passionate, and could be rash," he says heavily, not wanting to speak ill of his brother to a man who never knew him, but needing Durriken to understand. "And if he'd told me what he was going to do I'd have tried to talk him out of it. Korvosa wasn't ready six years ago. Zellara was right: we do not make our histories just as we please. Maybe you were a part of that. Maybe, though nobody knew it, Aless had to go so the rupture could come now. But he protected me, or he tried, like a good big brother.

"I'm rambling," says Fredo. "What I mean to say is, you did what you had to do, and I understand why. I said it before, and now that you've said your piece, I'll stand by it. I don't hate you. I didn't really hate Lamm, not for anything he did to me. My mother and my sister and I, we let Aless go a long time ago. What I needed for me, as opposed to for Korvosa, were answers. How and why he died. Thank you for that. We can build on that.

"As for who will watch the kids, I was thinking that a friend of mine at the College named Mikhaisen could watch Amba if I'm not there…" Fredo cocks his head at where the two children were sleeping, not far from one another. Alfsigr was lying on her back, Amba on his side looking at her. "But I think he'd rather stay with Siggy if possible." The corner of Fredo's mouth twitches, and he blinks wetly.

Tristain has risen with the sun for as long as can remember...it is as if Korvosa itself has bidden him to rise and face the day and tend to the needs of the City.

Tristain's immediate reaction as he wakes is to test his leg, happy that his leg has healed some during the night.

Yay, 2/8 hp!

Leaving as silently as the can, Tristain will slip out the front door at first light. Taking a look around, Tristain will try to find a closest building or a tree he can climb so he can see his city, *his* Korvosa, for all that it is and what has become of it.

And in the tree, Tristain will commune for aid in the day's travails...of which, Tristain is sure there will be many.

Korvosa, my city, my friend, my protector, my mother,
I am your son and I call to you.
Teach me courage and kindness and how to love myself,
Help my heart be pure and my vision clear,
Show me how to live with compassion and with forgiveness,
Let me know nature which is always true,
Fill me with your silence as I learn the art of patience,
Teach me of my own power and purpose,
Send me your light as you guide me into your dark cave,
Help me to see there is no fault in the Universe, only life dancing,
Fill me with wonder as I touch once again the delicate magic that is life,
In my heart there is much longing,
I am ready to face whatever your Mystery may unveil.

When finished, Tristain will climb back down and slip back into the room, hopeful that people are risen and ready to plot a course of action for the day.

Durriken nods solemnly, his eyes fixed on the door. "Our families are ours, no matter their path. I would not blame you if you were to hate me. I doubt I could put it aside, were the roles reversed. That you can try..." His voice trails off briefly. "I will try to be worthy of that, Goffred Giulanoff. It appears we will all need each other more than we originally planned."

His gaze travels with Goffred's over to the two children lying on the floor. "We did a good thing today, for two children, at least. I heard once the road to salvation begins with one small step, but I never believed it possible for myself - I spent too many years hating Lamm, plotting his death, to see anything else." He quirks a small smile. "Perhaps I've found the way to prove that belief wrong."

Since that's a nice, positive note to end the conversation on, Durriken, and since Tristain's already moved on to the morning, I'll be moving on. If you want to continue the conversation, let me know and we'll work something out.

And Tristain, when you prepare spells, please let me know which ones, for record-keeping purposes. I'd remind Goffred to do the same, but, well, you know.

The night does not pass uneventfully. That description would be too generous. On Durriken's watch alone he spies a group of armed men, their armored chestplates molded into leering, horned devil-faces chasing down a larger group of scrawny teenagers, their arms filled with fresh, wriggling fish. Every few steps one of the fish would free itself and flop around on the ground, leaving a wet, smelly trail behind the youths. They manage to get out of Durriken's sight and earshot before the armored men catch up, however. On the bright side, no trouble comes to disturb the party in Zellara's old home. Whoever is on watch at the time feels oddly safe within the walls despite the tableaux of vice and violence visited upon their watching eyes.

In the morning, the fish carcasses are still there, their skins torn open by the teeth of rats and their guts beginning to stink awfully. Tristain is barely able to escape the smell by climbing onto the roof. The shingles feel rough, cool, and damp with just-fleeing dew as he prays under the disc of the sun. As he slips back inside, he sees Alfsigr and Ambadus beginning to stir. The boy lifts his head. "Why you up so early, Mister? You going somewhere?"

Fredo wakes to the creaking of the door and the sound of the young boy's voice. Somehow during the night his head had migrated off the pile of extra outfits he'd been using for a pillow and onto the hard wooden floor. He sits up and rubs his head. "No one's going anywhere," he says, as reassuringly as he can through the vexing ache. "You don't have to worry." Fredo reaches into his pack and pulls out his volume. "We all have our morning rituals," he explains. "If you're interested, and if you ask nicely maybe Tristain-" Fredo emphasizes the name, making sure Amba knows it and knows to call Tristain by it in the future, "-will tell you about his."

Fredo crosses his legs and opens the book. The binding accepts being opened without recalcitrance, and the covers sit mutely on Fredo's knees. He begins leafing through pages, wondering how he should best intervene in the world today.

Over the course of the next hour Goffred will prepare the following spells: 1st - Cause Fear, Enlarge Person, Enlarge Person, Mage Armor; 0th – Mage Hand, Message, Prestidigitation

I think the post monster got my last post, oh well. reposting

Raseri is asleep almost as soon as she lies down next to Alfsigr. One of her arms is wrapped protectively around the young girl. She doesn't move throughout the night and her sleep is mercifully devoid of the myriad of nightmares that could have occurred that night.

She's still asleep when Tristain goes out for his morning prayers, but as Alfsigr stirs, so does she.

"Hunh, oh."

The petite woman sits up and stretches out her arms and neck before standing up and scratching her head, right where Lamm's bolt grazed her. The dried blood that had caked her hair flakes off and causes Raseri to stop and look at the various nicks and cuts that covered her arms and legs, and had put holes in her clothes. Her gaze then falls upon her little sister. She knew that her mother had always adored the hair the three of them had, and it pained her more than a bit to think that Lamm would cut it off like that. But that was something that would take time to fix. Her main concern is how the two of them looked, and they looked rough indeed.

She turns to speak with Goffred, but a twinge of pain where the dog bit into her causes her to wince for a moment and slowly finish the turn.

"You wouldn't happen to have a spell that'd summon a bath would you? I think the two kids and I could use one."

Durriken is the last to stir, standing and stretching out his muscles as they protest. A fine job, falling asleep on watch. You're slipping. He takes a deep breath, then belatedly wishes he hadn't.

"I'd imagine we all could. After going swimming twice last night, I smell like a fishmonger's shop. I imagine Tristain must smell even worse." Though the tone is light, there are furrows of concern plainly visible on his face as he crosses to where the young man sits. If that wound has festered... He is relieved to see that the leg appears to have healed somewhat, and at the fact that all he can smell is salt and sea. Apprently, the magic had staved off any infection. Good.

"And I'm right. Let's figure out what we need to accomplish this morning, and we can stop at an inn on the way to my shop. I'm sure they can draw us all baths." His stomach rumbles. "And provide a meal. We can split up after that. Sell what we can, see to the children...then meet back here to begin looking for the missing ones, in earnest?"

Theron returns from the kitchen in little more than a loincloth, freshly shaved face, and smelling of soap. He packs away his soap, razor, waterskin, and leeches..., then begins strapping himself in his armor - muttering or chanting quietly to himself. He covers his armor completely with his heavy white cloak, crossbow and quiver in his over the shoulder bag, and satchel over the other shoulder.
"Let's see what shape the city is in this morning."

GM Zimmer: my spells learned each day are on my alias under the header of "Offense and Spells". I mark off used spells with an '*'. I have taken 2 CLW for this day...for some reason. ;)

I'm unsure if Fredo would have physically tried to stop Tristain from leaving. Tristain is intent on his morning ritual and unused to being told he can't do something. RPing on...

"No one's going anywhere," he says, as reassuringly as he can through the vexing ache. "You don't have to worry."

Tristain smiles at Fredo and continues to leave.

"Oh, don't worry. The City will protect me...and I'll be back shortly. My ritual won't take long and won't be done in this dusty musty place when morning Korvosa is out the door."

Tristain closes the door behind him quietly.

* * *
Upon returning, Tristain will count again his remaining monies (10gp) and tally up the monies from the Lamm's.

I believe we had a pouches of coins...and some gear, yes?

"Well, Theron, I would write more Korvosan prayer-magic onto scrolls, but I lack the monies to do it yet. Maybe we can sell some of the gear so I can buy the necessary supplies...assuming something still stands of the city."

Tristain will pack up his backpack and be ready to leave.

"And I'm right. Let's figure out what we need to accomplish this morning, and we can stop at an inn on the way to my shop. I'm sure they can draw us all baths." His stomach rumbles. "And provide a meal. We can split up after that. Sell what we can, see to the children...then meet back here to begin looking for the missing ones, in earnest?"

Raseri thinks for a moment and feels her decided light coin pouch.

"I think I have enough for that. I'll also need to get Sig here some new clothes. Amba would probably like some as well." She gives a smile to the small boy before returning her attention to Durriken. "I think we can leave as soon as everybody's ready."

Raseri searches through her pack to not if she forgot anything. Anything she left in Zellara's home she'll find and put back in the pack. As soon as she's done, she'll put it on over the scabbard of the greatsword on her back.

She looks down at her little sister with a smile full of hope.

"Klar til å gå, min lille alv?"

At Tristain's comment about something being left of the city, Raseri looks at him with a bit of a puzzled look and asks, "If none of the city was still standing, then wouldn't this house have fallen around our ears last night?"

That should get Ras up to the present. By the way, Fredo wouldn't happen to have a shirt and pants in that pile of clothes that would fit Ras? considering that her current ones are a little worse for the wear, unless you just want to handwave it and say they took no damage.

Theron stops, reaches in his satchel, and pulls out a stocking full of coins. He gives Tristain 50 gold, and 20 to Raseri. "A good scrub, clean clothes, and tactical preparations first. We can unload his meager leavings after we have washed ourselves of him."

Raseri looks at the coins with an expression of surprise. She bits her lip as minor war takes place in her head. After a few seconds, the young woman sighs and takes the proffered coins.

"Thank you. I don't know how to repay you, but thank you all the same."

@ Tristain. My posts took place entirely after yours, that is, after Tristain came back inside, ritual over. Was that not clear? Let me know, for the sake of future GM improvingness.

The loot plundered from Lamm's is detailed in the "Campaign Info" tab.

@ Raseri. Fredo's got two outfits with him he's not wearing. Considering he's three inches taller and thirty pounds heavier than Ras, they might not fit her very well, to say nothing of Sig. But you're welcome to them. That's what they're for. On another note, why didn't I remember to prepare Mending?

Fredo is dimly aware of what's going on around him, his thoughts focused almost entirely on the book in his lap. The pages are almost embarassingly crisp and white, the smell of fresh, pungent glue. And Fredo never gets beyond the first twenty pages or so, no matter how many times he reads it. What's there, though, is familiar, and Fredo is happy to lose himself in the work of his own fingers and thoughts for a while. Finally, he closes it.

"It's no substitute for a real bath," he says to Raseri, "and it won't mend your clothes, but I did prepare something that can help." Fredo cuffs his sleeves and claps his hands together once. He draws them apart slowly, and Raseri can feel the encrusted salt and blood lifting off her body, the stains and smells lifting out of her clothes, and dissolving to dust in the air. Fredo smiles at the kids. "Or I don't know, maybe it could substitute for a real bath." Alfsigr pushes in front to be first, and Fredo obliges, first cleansing her and then Amba. Fredo smiles again when the boy pronounces it "cool", and winks, nods, and ruffles his hair when he asks if he could learn someday.

"I'm not going to lecture you in your field, Tristain," says Fredo, "But can you explain to me what's so horrible about what's going on? People are frustrated, correctly, and they're acting out. The only thing missing is an overall goal and leadership toward that end." As he talks, he rummages in his outfits for something that won't be too baggy on Raseri, who is shifting her weight about uncomfortably. He looks critically at the cotton shirt meant to be worn under the leather apron. "Here, try this," he says, handing it to her. "It'll fit over your clothes so you won't have to change here. If you like, tuck the bottom into your pants so it won't get in the way."

"If we mean to stop at an inn," he says, loading the rest of the clothes, and everything else he brought, into his pack, "does anyone know a good one? It could save us some grief if one of our faces is known to the innkeep and some of the guests."

Raseri can't help but shake her head at Sig's behavior. That girl has got to learn some manners.

When Fredo offers the shirt, she takes it with a gracious, if somewhat awkward, "Thanks."

Raseri tries on the shirt, only to find that the sleeves cover her hands and it's length makes it seem more like a night gown on her, which annoys her more than a little. She makes her way into the next room and changes out of her holey shirt and into the cotton shirt. She tucks the tail of it into her pants, which only had a couple of holes just above the top of her boots from the spiders. She then rolled up the sleeves and considered securing them with the ribbon she was using to hold the end of her braid, but decided that they would hold well enough. She then put the leather armor back on. All the while she responds to Fredo's

"There's the one I found out about this place at, it's a little ways away, but Mak's pretty nice and he's the one who told me what I knew about this house. I just don't know if it's going to be convienient for anyone here besides Sig and I."