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"This is the 3 Lancet, yes?"
Haedrik gave a quick glance around. "It certainly is."
He let his fingers stray to the hilt of his rapier as the door popped ajar.
"Normally, I would let a woman enter first, and you definitely seem like that would not be an issue," Haedrik said with a grin. "But perhaps I should enter first?"
Haedrik took a step forward. "By the by, what brings a lady here this late anyways?"
Karista bristles at the man's demeanor, but the fact is she'd rather have her eyes on his back than the other way around. She didn't like how little control she over the situation but there was not much to do but press on at this point. She let the man step into the house ahead of her and took a final glance around the street while answering, "I was invited. Same as you?" She let the sentence hang in the air, only a half question.
Karista answered, "I was invited. Same as you?"
"And the same as I," utters Taemin as he steps out of the alleyway and slowly up to the door, hands empty and slightly before him, clothes hanging from his frail frame. He moves to stand a few feet shy of the others and bows carefully at the waist, keeping his ears pointing high.
"I am Taemin," he states simply, "and I am here for this." He draws forth the card left with him earlier in the day, displaying only the back with the writing upon it.
Jam exits the alleyway, pulling a harrow card out of his pocket as he goes and pulling red, blue, and yellow sand into the other hand.
"I have one as well, though I don't know how I can be sure one of you didn't send it to me. Call me Burk.", I say as I hold up the card. Let's see what these people are doing here. If Lamm has set a trap, it'd be real neat to get rid of several people at once, and much easier to kill me with friendly-seeming folk.
The small home is filled with a fragrant haze of flowers and strong spice. The haze comes from several sticks of incense smouldering in wall-mounted burners that look like butterfly-winged elves. The smoke itself seems to soften edges and gives the room a dream-like feel.
The walls are draped with brocaded tapestries, one showing a black-skulled beast juggling men’s hearts, another showing a pair of angels dancing atop a snow-blasted mountain. A third tapestry on the far wall depicts a tall hooded figure shrouded in mist, a flaming sword held in a skeletal hand. Several brightly-colored rugs cover the floor, but the room’s only furnishings are a wooden table covered by a bright red throwcloth and six elegant tall-backed chairs. A basket covered by blue cloth sits under the table.
A note sits atop the table, held down by a fist-sized stone. It says "Thank you for coming. I had to step out for bit, but shall return shortly. Please, have a seat while you wait. The basket under the table contains bread and drink for you."
The basket contains several loaves of bread and a clay jug.
Haedrik smiles at his new 'friends.' He plops down unceremoniously on a chair and lifts his feet atop another.
"Free food! Now if this is a trap, its the kind I don't mind falling into."
Haedrik rips a chunk of bread and stuffs it into his mouth. "So anyways, my name's Haedrik, and you all are . . ." Haedrik let the question hang while reaching for a drink.
Karista peers in through the open door, "There is no one home?" She enters the house and takes one step immediately to the left, her back to the wall. In the dimly lit interior her veil is all but opaque, but her body language remains tense. She elbows her long, dark cloak out of her way, allowing a view of the leather wrapped hilt of her sword, complete with feather and bone fetishes dangling from the pommel. Her hands are traced with swirling black tattoos that wend up her arms before disappearing beneath her clothing. Her dyed black armor creaks softly as she moves - it has clearly not been fully broken in. It fits her quite snug, and it's plunging neckline and high midriff suggest that it was designed with fashion more than utility in mind. The effect is ruined by Karista's thin and faintly stained homespun shirt which effectively covers all the armor was prepared to reveal. Her pants are the rough stitched hide you might see on a trapper, and her boots are travel worn but clearly of Varisian make.
Haedrik chuckles softly and holds his arms palm up in appeasement. He turns his attention to the halberd-wielding man.
"You sound like you don't know why you're here yourself. By my reckoning that places us in the same boat."
Haedrik pauses for a second, then sighs. He reaches into his shirt pocket and tosses his card down on the table.
"Lamm's why I am here. And according to my card, my guess is the dirty scoundrels the reason you are here too."
Taemin takes a small strip of the bread and quietly sits down in a chair opposite Haedrik. "I had not thought to be glad to hear that name," he whispers, "yet to hear this I am glad, and for him I come." He glances briefly at the halberd-wielding man, "Verronax, why are you here? Did you follow me?"
Verronax takes a seat, leaning his halberd against the wall. He pours a glass of wine and takes a hunk of bread.
"My name is Verronax. And no, I didn't follow you," he tells the elf. "Indeed, I am here because of Gaedren Lamm as well." Verronax pulls out his card and lays it on the table.
"But if we're all here for Lamm, who invited us? Bread and wine notwithstanding, if this is a trap he has laid, I'd prefer not to get caught in it. Perhaps the lady is right to be suspicious, after all."
Karista nodded slowly. "The wind is at our back no matter which way tonight turns out. Either the secret messenger spoke true and will point us to Lamm, or it is a trap, but Lamm is behind it and we can trace it back to him. I hope you are all comfortable with your steel, men." Her head turned to take in each of the assembled individually, her gaze lingering on the apparently unarmed Gnome in the doorway.
Haedrik nodded here and there as the assembled debated the possibility of their meeting being a trap. "Possible, possible . . .but truth be told, I very much doubt Lamm even recalls me."
Haedrik flashes a winning smile at the somewhat terse woman. "I know, I know, you're thinking how could he forget such a striking figure as me." Haedrik offers a prolonged shrug. "I blame it on age. His of course, not mine."
"The longer I remain here, the more I feel something is amiss."
Haedrik studies the elf and nods.
"Perhaps, we should have a look about this place then."
"Perhaps have a poke behind these curtains, eh?"
Haedrik hops up and and stares intently at the tapestry depicting the black-skulled beast.
"Interesting tastes." Haedrik turns back to the others. "So shall we glance about a bit?"
"I am Zellara, and this is my home." She produces a deck of cards from her pocket, and begins to shuffle the cards with great skill. The card backs match the cards you each received. "Before I say anything more, I would like to make sure that you are who I seek." Zellara takes Haedrik and Taemin's cards off the table where they had been left. "The Rabbit Prince and the Locksmith. Excellent." The cards are shuffled back into the deck. She pauses a moment to beckon for the return of the other cards.
Zellara takes Karista's card off the table. "The bear." Her hands shuffle the cards with blinding speed, the deck dancing in her hands. She looks over at Jam, standing in the doorway. "The theater is being less than cooperative. No matter." She cuts the deck, revealing a card bearing the image of a man on stage, wielding a wooden sword.
“Thank you for coming, my friends, and for putting up with my unconventional method of contacting you. I have reason to remain hidden, you see—a terrible man would see great harm done to me if he knew I was reaching out for help. This is a man you know, for he has done something terrible to each of you as well. I speak, of course, of Gaedren Lamm, a man whose cruelty and capacity to destroy the lives of those he touches are matched only by his gift for avoiding reprisal. You see, a year ago, his thieves stole this, my Harrow deck, from me. It is important to me, an heirloom passed down through a dozen generations, and also my sole means of support. When pickpockets stole it, my son, Eran,tracked them down. The thieves were in the employ of Gaedren Lamm, and in reward for finding them, Gaedren murdered my son.
"I sought help from the Guard, but they turned me away. And so I asked around. I paid bribes. I consulted my Harrow deck for advice. And recently, I was rewarded—I found out where Gaedren dwells. He can be found in an old fishery north of here at Westpier 17, where he trains his abducted children to be pickpockets and counts his stolen treasures.
“And now, I need your help. I cannot hope to face this man on my own, and the Guard moves so slowly that if I were to go to them, Gaedren would certainly know of their coming well in advance. Even if they did arrest him—what guarantee would I have he would be punished? This criminal has evaded the law for decades. But you know of these frustrations as well, for word on the street has it that Gaedren has wronged each of you, too. So there we are. It is time for him to pay.”
"I little enough about Lamm's safehouse. I know that he runs some semblance of a legitimate business there, as a fishmonger: deliveries come and go. I also know he has some number of thugs and liutenants there, but that is the limit of my knowledge." She turns to face Karista. "Gaedren Lamm returned my son's head in a box. Should I have kept it as proof to you, instead of offering him a proper burial on the road?"
Her idle manipulation of the deck ceases for a moment. "I know. I shall perform a Harrowing for you - all of you. Perhaps it will reveal the things that you need to know."
She sifts nine cards from the deck, laying them face down on the table in three rows and three columns. "The chosing begins. Please choose a card and turn it over, for it will mark your role in events to come."