Nailed to the board in the Flaxseed Lodge's lounge is a letter from Venture-Captain Shiela Heidmarch, calling a team of Pathfinders to Varisia with haste. The next ship leaves on the tide's turning in two hours.
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Horlan Harrowinds rests his spear awkwardly in the crook of an arm as he reads the letter. "It'll be good to go home," he mutters to himself in Varisian.
Tall, lean, and with long dark hair he glances about to see if any of the others called by Venture-Captain Heidmarch are present. A keen observer would sense his trepidation.
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Renn untied his hair, smoothed it, and re-tied it again.
"Mmm, Mrs Heidmarch. She's married you know? Such a dry old chap given how well the dame's held up. Dreadful lack of attractive maids in Heidmarch Manor, I must say - I wonder if she's thinning the competition?"
Renn smiles, musing about what favors he could secure for a nice trip to Varisia.
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An impeccably-dressed half-elf wanders into the room.
"Greetings. I am Jeggare, Varian Jeggare. If we are to be traveling together for some time, we should probably discuss our capabilities, so that we know what to expect from each other in the field. I am a (classically trained) Conjuror, of some middling skill. I tend to specialise in blinding my foes with clouds of Glitterdust, but keep a few other ricks up my sleeves, as well."
He then turns expectantly to the other party members.
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A medium man with a brute semblant, with brown hair that fills his head and his mistreated beard enters in the room. Besides his rude aspect, he displays many weapons on his body - spear, falchion, bow, and others. Despite this, his eyes have something strangely different and he sustains a sneering smile. With him stands a pretty cheetah, which is apparently docile.
"Hello, buddies. What's up?" he gives a grin to those there.
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A slender elf, walks in to the room, his silver hair is pulled back into a braid. The robes he wears are brand new, a vast difference of the well beaten sheath holding his longsword. He reads the notice pinned up by Ms. Heidemarch, and smirks.
So they decided to let me tag along. Good, I finally get to practice my magic on something besides other students. And an added bonus, gets me away from the damn library
"ah, you must be my travelling companions. My name is Zordlon, and lets just say I am very manipulative"
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An older gentleman stumbled into the table. He adjusts his spectacles as he peers around the group.
"Ahh... the group for Varisia? I'm your assigned historian. Professor Khellek. I'm afraid I'm not much use in a fight, but I'll be certain to document anything we find."
He seems to have brought a bit of light reading material with him. Not quite a whole library, but a fair assortment none the less.
On the boat, the door to the captain's cabin is adorned with another note -- this one a little more enlightening regarding the mission at hand, but not overly so:
Greetings, -- I will cut straight to the point. The owner of the Green Market, Zeeva Foxglove, needs our help. I’d normally require a more substantial explanation than what she’s given us, but Zeeva is a friend, and she knows a thing or two about prophecies. If she says disaster is about to strike Korvosa, I believe her. Time is of the essence. When you receive this message, head to Korvosa at once. Travel to Eodred’s Square and inform the local guards that you are looking for Zeeva, and she will come out to meet you. I’ve enclosed a letter of credit that should be sufficient to secure you passage to Korvosa. Best of luck to you, Pathfinders. I look forward to reports of your success. -- Venture-Captain Sheila Heidmarch
Three weeks of sea travel later, an ill wind stirs whitecaps on the dark Jeggare River, carrying with it the faint odor of spoiled meat. Travelers crossing High Bridge into Korvosa grumble and pull their collars up against the cold. Past the somber city gates is a sprawling square plaza. Throughout the area, small clusters of people gather close together, stuffing their hands in their pockets as they engage in quiet conversation. Several guards hover around the edges of the plaza. A gray tabby cat rests nearby, its bright yellow eyes seeming to watch over the crowd.
Shelley quickly recognizes this plaza as none other than Eodred's Square, a popular seaside market in Korvosa.
The guard looks over Zordlon skeptically. "Zeeva Foxglove? She said she was expecting important guests, from the Par... Pat? Pathfinder Society, that was it. That you? Hmm. She said she'd know when you arrived, and to tell you to wait here."
The observant members of the party note that the gray tabby cat has disappeared.
As the Pathfinders sit hunched over in the cold, a large-eyed woman in a green gown approaches and waves, and then introduces herself by handing out cards bearing her name -- Zeeva Foxglove -- and the address of the Green Market in South Shore. A cat bearing a striking resemblance to the one that rested on the square’s cobbles walks alongside her. "I owe you an explanation," she says, "But let us travel as we talk, for my market cannot do without me for long. I know it sounds ridiculous, but there are actually three disasters waiting to strike.
The merchant walks briskly, slipping gracefully past the crowds and carriages. "It began after I heard about a Varisian caravan parked outside the city. The vagabonds had lost everything to
bandits, and, my marketplace is so profitable now, I can afford to share my bounty with those whom fate mistreats. I brought them some produce, and in return, their fortune-teller offered me a harrow reading."
Foxglove’s rosy complexion pales. "The spread foretold good fortune, almost to excess -- that is, until she turned up The Yellow Prophet. A legendary lost card, although I didn’t know that then. Its appearance upset the soothsayer. She said the card required that three more cards be drawn, and she did so hastily, giving me hardly any insight. What I’ve learned since is that each of those cards portends a dark fate: a disaster."
She produces a deck of cards from her handbag. "It seemed the fortune-teller was hiding something, so I obtained my own harrow deck and researched the cards’ meanings. But I am still in the dark, and my own auguries tell me that time is running short. I need brave investigators, well-versed in the arcane, to determine where these calamities will strike -- or, failing that, track down that fortune teller, so that she can explain her strange behavior."
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Khellek stops open mouthed.
"We rushed across the ocean to find a fortune teller? he asks.
"Perhaps you should tell me more of the cards that were drawn. I have studied widely over the years, and believe I recall a bit of Harrow Lore - though it has always seemed a little...erratic, if you will excuse my saying so."
Zeeva looks sharply back at Khellek. "Not quite. You've rushed across the sea to stop a disaster -- or rather, three of them. For that, you have my thanks."
"The cards. Yes, I have them here. Harrow cards can be tricky: an ominous card isn’t always negative, and a cheery card can turn calamitous. Instead of relying on their traditional meanings, I’m guessing the cards have connections to people or places in Korvosa. Maybe you can catch something I’ve overlooked?" Zeeva produces three specific cards from her deck. "These were the three. The Betrayal, the Unicorn, and the Cricket. The Betrayal is a card that can mean selfishness or self-sacrifice or a choice between the two. The Unicorn promises rewards from a friend -- but some friends are false, and some prizes are poison. The Cricket is a card for quick-witted travelers, some of whom find glory and some of whom return empty-handed."
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Khellek has a think
[ooc]Being trained in all, can he do both options for checks? I'll just do the best to start with, but a provide a second check for if it is allowed.[ooc]
First he thinks of the Betrayal
"Many famous betrayals..."
Then he puts his mind to the Unicorn..
"Of course unicorns are also highly magical beats..."
Lastly he considers the Cricket.
"An odd cart, that cricket."
Khellek knows that The Betrayal is known as "Viamio’s Kiss" amongst Korvosan harrowers, after Lord Amrys Viamio, the city’s most infamous traitor. Only one building in Korvosa still bears his legacy: Traitor’s Mews, a dilapidated manor in Old Korvosa.
Varian knows that in the Heights District, noble foreigners flock to a bed and breakfast called the Frisky Unicorn, hoping to catch a glimpse of the pseudodragons that nest in the turret.
Varian also knows that the icons on The Cricket’s cards are symbols of Desna -- stars, moons, and planets -- all of which figure prominently in the architecture of Kendall Amphitheater, the city’s largest performance venue.
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"Harrow deck? Oh, c'mon...", Peter looks bored with all of those words about arcane things, harrowing things and so on.
When Varian told about locations, the ranger readily answered: "okay, just tell where to go and we will check it. Don't worry, Foxglove. We will come back here with some answers to you."
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Renn has properly bowed to Zeeva, taken her hand and smiled again as he rose.
A whole market to herself... not nobility, but wealth!
Maintaining a modicum of small talk while his companions examining the cards, Renn made various inquiries into Zeeva's business. How was it faring? How much time did it afford her for life's pleasures? Were there other rewards at hand for their aid, perhaps such as her future favor?
"I simply find it fascinating that our follow-up will be taking the card's meanings or origins literally? I don't suppose everyone who draws the unicorn from this deck merits a visit to any and all locales in Korvosa with 'unicorn' in their name?"
Nonetheless, Renn will accompany the others, having little else by way of a lead to pursue at this time to secure Zeeva's favors and affections.
Zeeva smiles at Renn's questions. "In fact, I do have something in mind. In preparation for your kind assistance, I offer a Choosing from the deck. You may each choose a card -- it may foretell your role in preventing these disasters!"
"Let's see... Peter, was it? You've drawn the Snakebite, a card of exacting evil -- the namesake of poisoners and assassins alike."
"Horlan. You've drawn the Idiot, a fool whose fate is worse than he knows."
"Varian: the Vision, brilliance and madness all at once. May you heed it wisely."
"Khellek has the Joke, the sign of a great challenge to be overcome by some means but never force."
"Zordlon has the Hidden Truth, a genius found where it is not expected."
"And finally Renn the Wanderer has fittingly drawn the Wanderer, a collector who finds value in many things, some worthwhile and others worthless."
"Your Choosing does not necessarily speak to who you are, but rather where your place might be in the telling. Keep these cards in your mind as you investigate! I will be at my Green Market when you have news."
* * *
Finding the Traitor's Mews is a simple affair. Wedged among the many-tiered tenements that clog Korvosa’s poorest district, this rambling black-brick manor house has been claimed by displaced families. The wary eyes of countless waifs, beggars, and other people in tattered clothes peer through shattered windows, their spirits as weathered as the building itself. The front door has long since been removed, leaving a breezy entryway into the dark and decrepit interior.
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Peter is reluctant to draw a card from the deck.
"This is b%$#@+!#", he thought as he draws the snakebite card.
"Let's see... Peter, was it? You've drawn the Snakebite, a card of exacting evil -- the namesake of poisoners and assassins alike."
"I'm not like this. Not completely, leastwise. I think", he looked intrigued, in fact.
"Opened door, dark interior, hum... Somebody here can provide light to us?"
Juhah stands beside Peter all the time.
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"Yes, yes... I learned to do that years ago. Candle smoke is terrible for books you know" says Khellek.
He twiddles his fingers and several small globes of light appear, heading up the stairs ahead of the team of pathfinders.
"Blindness is a great challenge to many, and our blindness inside hs been overcome!" laughs Khellek, trying to get into the spirit of the Harrow reading.
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With his card in one hand, he snaps the fingers of his free hand, gesturing at the card he drew.
"Ah ha! Of course! How appropriate... and literal! One would expect the ghostly spirits about to be a little more crafty, but no matter!"
Leaning forward for something more than just a formal handshake, Renn pats Zeeva and smiles his million goldpiece grin.
"Do not worry, my lady! Our investi-- ahem, wanderings will surely turn up something in no time at all. I'm certain we'll be back for dinner, even..."
Leaning forward conspiratorially, he wonders.
"... and if that were the case, does my lady have a favorite wine? I've always found cat-lovers prefer a good red with subtle undertones, yes?"
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Upon reaching the rundown shack, Renn effectively shrugs but unstraps his bow and holds it in a hand while gesturing to the others to head in before him.
"Ahead, my friends! Zeeva waits for her heroes' bravery, and we shall not disappoint!"
Khellek's lights catch the bleary eyes of a dozen homeless trying to catch a rest, bewildered by this strange company that has barged in their door. A small child peeking through a window runs off down the hall, and soon returns clutching the skirt of a sunken-eyed woman with loose, matted grey hair. "You lot, there. You're not from here, and you've not come offering food to us hungry. So what do you think you're doing here?"
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Renn holds up his hands, quickly stowing his bow. He smiles, hoping his smile will disarm the man of his angst.
"Hey, hey! The name's Renn, and we come with something better than food.. we come offering our camaraderie and friendship!"
As Peter offers to also provide food, Renn nods, quickly revising his offer.
"... and food too, of course. My friend Pete here can pick the freshest plums from the cart. What do you folks say to a little field trip out in the sun?"
The woman's eyes flit from Pathfinder to Pathfinder, full of suspicion and caution. She brightens at the sight of gold, however. "Anything you can spare would be gracious -- there are many dozens of Empty here. And they all look to me, Tsura. This is the only home we know. Not much to tell about it really."
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After eyeing the house warily, Khellek is the first to move down to the nearby street stall to buy everything he can carry.
"Perhaps Tsura, if you could tell us a bit about any new arrivals, or particular... characters.. who live in this... building?"
He starts to modulate his voice, producing a pleasing tone, one that more than one student has been lulled into a false sense of security by.