Othos Khandrikar's page

Fascinated, Othos watches the dwarf and the halfling trade half-veiled banter while he feeds the raven another couple of almonds. As Gimble finishes his speech and the dwarf sinks deep into thought, he speaks up. "I have my own idiosyncratic reasons to seek out the remnants of the guild, tattered as they might be. So does Gimble here, as well as our other associates, and I am sure you might have yours as well. We are not going to convince you about the virtues of organised crime - I merely wish to observe that Calimport thrives on informal law. This is not a ‘just’ society in the sense one is used to in the great cities of the North. The office of the magistrate and the laws of the courthouse only benefit those already rich in influence. While the common folk may rejoice today, I strongly suspect that they will miss their local protectors soon enough, as the militia is far less benevolent than it might seem on first glance. In a way, we intend to… shall we say, restore power to the people. You know, give them back the safety and services they are used to, that they know and love". With that, Othos’ face breaks into a sardonic smile.

"Of course there is something in it for us as well. Like you, we are opportunistic businessmen. Though I can only speak for myself here", Othos says with a amused glance at Gimble, "I am almost as keen on discovering with what has happened to the guild as I am in wresting a profit of some sort from the current situation. We do not know what has happened, nor do we know who might be behind it. It is a most delicious puzzle".

"Equal shares. Equal work. We will risk much, but I am confident we will gain even more". He drains the last of his ale. "We are done here, and this place closes momentarily. Let us walk over to my apartment. It is quite close, and I have food, drink and comfortable furnishings; also, Berzeral should be there by now". Othos gets up and stretches to his full height, towering over his two companions. "Well, Master dwarf - care to join us?".

“You know, I think I will have one more beer”, Othos calls back to the barkeep. “After that, we will make our way home, in spite of the horrid weather”. He gets up and walks to the door, letting the desperate raven inside. “You poor little thing”, he croons as the soggy bird violently shakes off some water. “Here, I got you some treats”. The unlikely pair makes their way back to the table.

“Know the dwarf?”, he asks Gimble as the raven pecks at the nuts while giving its report. The newcomer looked like a capable fellow – but this city tended to weed out those that could not take care of itself, like poor Varl... The bartender was right, though – it was getting rather late. And he had promised Berzeral to be home around midnight. It probably was not good to let the Malarite wait too long; after all, who knew what he would do to Othos’ nice little place if he got bored?

Ravens can still talk, right? Or was that one of those 3.0 quirks that disappeared with the new edition?

"Ah. The plot thickens". A flabbergasted Othos stares after the two women as they leave the inn. He can’t quite contain an astonished giggle. "Someone appears to have cheated Berzeral of his prize. Perhaps she overpowered and incapacitated him?". Othos couldn’t wait to see the Malarite’s face when told that some old woman had located and secured his prey before he had. Survival of the fittest indeed… After such a humiliation, the wolfman would probably be up for putting some serious hurt on Morn. Hopefully the hedonistic merchant had some information concerning his suspiciously sudden influx of wealth. It would have to wait a little, though - the management would surely not tolerate even more blood-soaked disturbances on the premises. Othos leans back and grabs a handful of almonds. Good thing he had nowhere else to be…

Othos’ prohibited school is Illusion, so it does not even occur to him that Berzeral might be employing a magical disguise - unless the "woman" is wearing claw bracers or some such incongruity… However, if Berzeral is not back by midnight, we adjourn and move to my apartment as planned.

As if the torrential rain and strong winds weren’t bad enough, the crackle of lightning and its accompanying smell of ozone makes the frazzled raven’s decision easy. It might only have caught a few of the men’s words, but it would have to do. It turns and hightails back to the inn.

Perplexed, Othos stands in the hallway as he receives the returning bird’s faint mental signal. In contrast to the turbulent weather outside, everything was ominously quiet on the inn’s second floor. All the doors were locked, with no sounds emerging. Damned high-class taverns and their quality soundproofing. Puzzled and annoyed, Othos walks downstairs again, and hails one of the serving girls. Beaky would need some serious mollification after his mission in the horrid weather, so Othos orders some hard-boiled eggs and a bowl of nuts, almonds and other finger foods. Whatever the bird didn’t eat would come in handy while keeping tabs on Morn, who was showing no signs of slowing down. As the snacks arrive, Othos once again steps outside, taking some pains to stay under a gable. As he returns, he can’t quite keep a hopeful smirk off his face, and it widens into a genuinely happy smile as he spots Gimble back at their table. "You know, my friend", he says as he sits down again, "I think we might still be in business after all. Want an almond?" He takes one himself, before leaning a little closer to the halfling. "Just a small question - do you know if Berzeral has magical powers? Can he walk through walls or just disappear in thin air? Is he favoured by his savage god?" Perhaps their ally was even more valuable than the had first thought? Othos’ smile grows even bigger at the thought…

Othos methodically curses the names of all the gods he knows about as he watches the sailor lumber off. He then casts a glance around the bar and comes to the depressing realisation that, though Morn still remained, both Berezal and Gimble were gone as well. His whole crew had evaporated like morning dew, well before any of his plans could be implemented.

Defeated, his shoulders slump as he turns slowly towards the flametouched barkeep. "I could use a stiff drink", he says in a hollow voice. "On second thought, make it a double". He carries his drink over to his table to consider his options. Damnable people. Could it be that his father actually had it right - that it was best to surround oneself with mindless, rotting servitors and magically dominated floozies? No, that line of thought was unbearable - also, look where it got him: headless and naked in a Calimport whorehouse. The last thought brings a small smile to Othos’ face and returns a small amount of cheer to his spirits. This was just a small setback, easily overcome. But where in the Nine Hells was Berzeral? Didn’t he talk about getting that girl from the Norseman’s room? Was the Malarite really going to babysit her for the next nine months? Othos shakes his head in amused disbelief. He would finish his drink and then go upstairs and see what the savage priest was up to. After that, somebody, anybody would pay for making him feel this foolish…

"Aha!". A sudden bolt of inspiration hits Othos. The Northman was actually right - he did not know very much about Torbjørn Skrælinghjelm, second mate on the frigate Fridtjof Nansen. But he could rectify that. He slugs down the firewater, bounds to his feet and walks out of the tavern. Once outside, he walks into a side alley and lets out a sharp whistle. Moments later, a big black bird alights on his shoulder.

"See, Beaky, I brought you this", Othos smiles as he feeds his familiar a leftover chunk of meat saved from his dinner. "A huge man wearing a horned helmet left this house just a couple of minutes ago. He is headed for the water, as he lives on a really big boat. Find him, and then listen to what he says. Do not let him see you. Got that? Good boy". The bird makes an affirmative screech before jumping off his arm and flapping off into the night. One less problem to worry about. Now, what was Berzeral up to? Othos strides back into the tavern and heads for the stairs. And wasn’t there supposed to be a doorman somewhere?

A momentary burst of near-uncontrollable anger spreads across Othos’ face, transforming it into rictus grin of murderous rage. Standing in front of the departing Norseman, he puts his hand on Torbjorn’s chest. "What do you want me to say, big man?", he snarls before regaining a tiny bit of his composure. "You deliberately underestimate yourself for rhetorical gain. ‘Simple sailor’, eh? Do you want me to beg? ‘Ooooh, Torbjorn, we cannot do without you’. ‘Ooooh, you are far more than a simple sailor’, or some such thing? I can do that quite easily, but I will not. Do you really think you can intimidate me into lathering you with hollow praise?". Othos calms down a little further, and his voice loses some of its hard edge. "You misunderstand the nature of our offer. We do not count ourselves amongst those lickspittles that that you so readily exploit. We are hunters, not prey. That is the ‘equal’ part - we do indeed want you to join our merry band, but it will not be on your terms alone".

He drops his hand and steps out of the sailor’s way. "We are men who are willing to risk much to gain much. I actually thought you would, too. However, if you would rather go back to your boat in order to sail somewhere where some fool will buy you yet another tankard of weak beer in exchange for that story you have told innumerable times before, so be it. I will not stand in the way of such an exciting prospect". He hands the gold coin back. "Don’t forget this one - it might just get you one more friend there".

Of course, I can’t really hold him back - he is, quite literally, about twice as big as me… It is more to make him stop and think.

Othos looks up in mild surprise as the huge Norseman bounds down the stairs. "Hmm… Not what I expected. I would have preferred to talk with him in a somewhat more private setting. Still, this is our chance". He stands up, motioning Berzeral to come with him. "We can collect the girl afterwards, I suppose. At least he looks more sober now". Here it goes…

"Excuse me", he says as he wanders up next to Torbjørn, shooting the neighbouring barfly an icy glare to make him mind his own business. "Undoubtedly you will react with great delight when I tell you that young Varl will live. Unfortunately, his chosen profession may no longer be open to him, as he will most probably never walk or talk normally again. However, Varl’s health isn’t really what we want to discuss with you. Along with my companions, I was hoping to extend an offer to you. As I am sure you know well, the underworld of this city is experiencing something of an upheaval. The Shadow Thieves are either done for, or they are in a situation that has put them at a grave disadvantage. In these chaotic circumstances, opportunity comes knocking, and it is our intention to open our doors to it. Our plan is to discover what has happened to the guild – if it has been defeated, we will pick its bones, and if it needs assistance, we will help it. We win either way, as we will enhance our stature amongst those that actually matter in this city".

"However", Othos’ continues,. "In addition to purely material gains, we can also offer you something that is of equally significant value, and that is glorious adventure alongside equals. I know you and your reputation; it is quite possible that you are content with subsiding on trifles and handouts bought through the telling of improbable stories to the timid and the weak. I, however, suspect that you grow weary of being an object of curiosity to slumming socialites. We offer you a chance to forge your own reputation independently of those you disdain, and to establish your power in spite of their snubs and condescension. Our project might prove to be easy, but it probably will not; indeed, I expect that we will have to contend with a significant number of hostile forces, and that we will have to forge our way through them in bloody battle. Of course, as befits an undertaking between equals, we shall share everything we acquire evenly - and there should be plenty to go around. After all, the Shadow Thieves’ wealth is legendary".

Othos’ face splits into a wide grin as he leans further towards the Northerner. "You surely recognise that this is something more than just a business proposal. You have acquired something of an admirer in master Berzeral here; we are, in so many words, quite excited at the thoughts of adventuring with you. Today’s little incident just cemented our impression of you and convinced us you are indeed the man we want and the final part of our puzzle". Othos straightens back up. "I have made my case. What say ye? Of course, you may take all the time you need to think about it, but the longer we wait, the more likely it is that someone will be doing just what I have described to you."

"Damn".

Othos has to exert some willpower to close his gaping mouth after Torbjorn’s shocking display of power and vicious opportunism. "He is most definitely our man. You do not think he will kill the girl, do you?", he asks of no-one in particular, before turning back to Berzeral with a sardonic grin. "I do not think we will need to worry about how we should separate him from his followers, do you not agree? As for my recruiting pitch, I simply intend to offer him an opportunity for adventure, plunder and glory among equals, rather than settling for handouts from human sheep like those over there. He will sign on, I am more certain than ever. Now pardon me for a second while I clean up his mess. We don’t want the city guard to show up; additionally, I rather like this place, and it would be a good idea to stay on the good side of the management".

He gets up and wanders over to Varl's shell-shocked group of friends, before kneeling down over the messy wreckage of the young man's face. "I am a healer", he says to the group. "Let me see how he is doing".

Basic Heal check? If he’s still bleeding, I stabilise him. If needed, I'll use a Cure Minor Wounds, which I try to keep very discreet. I do not waste a Cure Light Wounds on him.

"There you go. He will need futher care and bed rest - and most probably some additional medical attention. However, he is no longer at risk of bleeding out and dying. Now get him to his mother or some similar place where he can rest out". He nods to the doorman as he walks back to his table. "The girl will be crawling down the stairs in half an hour or so. Then we go upstairs and have a chat. Until then, I intend to finish my dinner. You might want to do the same, as this place has rather good food". With that, Othos turns his attention back to his plate's contents.

“I cannot tell you that”. Othos had prepared a long recruitment speech, but it was already painfully obvious that that speech would get him nowhere, except perhaps into the realm of pain and potential death. “However, I do not say that because I refuse to tell you – it is because I do not yet know. Please sit down as I explain”.

Othos pushes aside his plate of food. ”As you are well aware of, the natural balance of power seems to have shifted in the underworld of our fair city. The Shadow Thieves are either defeated and in disarray, or they are under some sort of siege and thus unable to flex their muscle in the manner we are accustomed to. I do not know which of these scenarios are correct; however, both offer resourceful and motivated people great amounts of opportunity. I, along with my esteemed companion here”, he nods towards Gimble, “intend to fish in these muddied waters. We intend to discover what has happened to the guild – if it has been defeated, we will loot the remains. If it needs help, we will provide it. Either way, we will enhance our reputations and gain in power and stature”. Othos’ face twists in a self-deprecating grimace. “However, we are not the most, shall we say, physically dominant individuals out there, and I fully expect to have to break quite a number of eggs to cook this omelette. The guild would not have gone down without fighting, and we will need to cope with these dangers as well. Thus, we are in need of talented, clever and ruthless companions, and you fit this bill perfectly. We cannot offer you fame, wealth or any such things. However, I can guarantee the rush of adrenaline, the thrill of the chase and the personal satisfaction of prevailing in lethal confrontation. Also, this is an undertaking among equals, and we will share everything we acquire evenly. Torbjørn over there will round out our group– he does not know it yet, but once we can separate him from his hangers-on, he will be our last recruit. The four of us will walk in the shadows, striking suddenly with overwhelming force and deadly precision; our enemies will never know us before they fall. Does any of this sound at all interesting to you? If you need time to think it over, that is fine with me. However, the longer we take, the higher the chance is that somebody else will walk the path I have delineated for you”.

Having made his pitch, Othos leans back a little, eyeing the Malarite expectantly.

"’Desperate’? Seriously, my friend Gimble, you know that I am never desperate. I only experience minor, easily correctable setbacks". Othos smiles sourly at his clammy companion. "Also, we are in this together, so if I am desperate, then so are you. Having said that, we do need some more help". Othos eyes the rangy newcomer closely. "I’ve never seen him before, but your judgments are usually reliable. I know who the big fellow is - his stories are not the most reliable out there, but he’s actually mighty handy with a maul. Why don’t you invite your acquaintance over here, and then we’ll talk with the big one when his coterie of sycophants are done with him?". With that, Othos returns his attention to his food. This was going to be a very interesting afternoon...

And this is my avatar for this game.