Korvosa.
The Jewel of Varisia, has long sparkled on the shore of Conqueror's Bay. Established just over 300 years ago by Cheliax at the height of that empire's expansion. The city now commands its own destiny. A line of Korvosan kings and queens emerged to rule the city, establishing an infamous seat of power -- the Crimson Throne.
Rulers have sat upon the Crimson Throne for more than a century, and the city has flourished. Yet, the monarchy always seems on the brink of disaster. The Crimson Throne is not a prize to be won -- it is a curse. No monarch of Korvosa has died of old age, and none has produced an heir while ruling. Even though King Eodred II controls Korvosa more fully than any previous monarch, that control remains tenuous, and many secretly count the days until their latest king falls to what they call The Curse of the Crimson Throne.
The young father's thoughts were on Rowan, of course. His son had gone missing well on a week ago, and the thought of it consumed Camber -- day and night. He wasn't sleeping, he was barely eating, and he had lost the little work he had to support the rest of the family's meager existence in the Shingles. Wasn't too much farther to go before you hit bottom, he thought with a wry smile. But I can't think of anything else, but poor Rowan, and that evil bastard Gaedren Lamm." He had learned that perhaps the notorious crimelord, Lamm, had abducted his child. It wasn't unknown in this near-destitute neighborhood for young ones to go missing, and turn up picking pockets, running drugs, or worse, all under the employ of that bad man.
Camber often daydreamed, or perhaps dozed off (he wasn't really sleeping at night, you see) with visions of his potter's hands wrapped around the old man's neck, squeezing and squeezing until...
And there goes another pot ruined....Camber took the lumps of wet clay and reformed them into a ball, wiping his hands on his apron, when he noticed something sticking out of his pocket. It was a card. A card with the image of a strange creature on it.. Flipping it over curiously, he say a note written there in a spidery, thin script
"I know what Gaedren Lamm has done to you. He has wronged me as well. I know where he dwells, but cannot strike at him. Come to my house at 3 Lancet Street at sunset Others like you will be there. Lamm must face his fate, and justice must be done."
Camber's eyes opened wide in surprise, and he dipped his hands in the wash basin, rubbing them together. He might not get any sleep tonight, but at least now he had a purpose. The first real break in his search for his missing boy.
She took the now cooled blank to the anvil and begin hammer it into shape. Eventually, this might be a longsword carried by one of her sisters, but only her skill and strength would make it into anything useful. She hammered on the blank, first one side, and then the other, shaping the still hot metal. And while she worked she thought.
Like all her thoughts these days, it was to her brother, whom she had not seen in years, and who now lay dead. She bit her lip as the hammer fell harder and harder. She knew who was responsible -- the weaselly crimelord Gaedren Lamm. She didn't know why, and more importantly, she didn't know where Lamm was. If she did, she might take her own blade, one forged just like the what she was working now, and run it through his bony body.
Daesra looked at her handiwork and grunted. Her emotion had gotten the best of her again, and the sword-to-be was now a misshapen hunk of cooling metal. Well, she could just heat it again, and start over. As she sighed in frustration at the time wasted, she noticed something on the bench.
Looking closer she saw a card, with a picture of a strange castle on it. Shaking her head, she looked closer and saw a note scrawled on the back of the card in spidery script. She read:
"I know what Gaedren Lamm did to you. He has wronged me as well. I know where he dwells but cannot strike at him. Come to my home at 3 Lancet Street at sunset. Others like you will be there. Lamm must face his fate, and justice must be done."
Daesra threw down her smithy gloves and unhooked her apron. She would take up tools tonight it seemed, but not the tools of crafting. She would use her training with blade, armor, and shield, and make final work of Lamm himself.
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Camber opened the rickety panel that served as a front door to the attic space the Seedsplits occupied. He passed by the entry without hanging up his apron, which his wife Bellis noticed right away.
"What's happened, Camber? What's wrong? Society business?" She looked up from the hearth, really no more than a hole in someone else's chimney. A bowl of chopped leeks sat in her hands, ready for the stew pot.
"Not Society," Camber replied, distracted. He reached down to pick up the little girl playing with her doll on the floor. "Oh, my precious Daisy, I love you so much." He held her tight, his hands trembling slightly in worry.
"Daddy? Is Rowan coming back?" Daisy asked. Her father looked at her, then looked across the room to Bellis. She was shaking. A tear dropped off her cheek to season the leeks. He looked at the kitchen table, set for four: Camber, Bellis, Daisy... and Rowan. It was always set for four. It would never not be set for four.
"Yes, my sweet flower. Rowan's coming back. Be patient. Be brave. Rowan's coming back." His voice started soft, but grew in intensity as he spoke, hardening like one of his pots in the kiln. He set his daughter down and stood tall.
He walked over to Bellis. He placed his hands over hers, steadying the bowl, firm, callused, warm. "Save some of the leeks for tomorrow," he advised. "I'm not staying for supper." Bellis stared deep into his eyes. Nary a breath passed between them.
After a short pause, he let go of his wife and reached under a loose floorboard, picking up a dagger and rapier. The sight of steel broke Bellis out of her stupor. "Camber? What are you doing? What's happened?"
Weapons in hand, he looked back, and with a deep, earthen voice, replied, "I'm going to go get Rowan. Keep Daisy safe. I'm getting Rowan."
The front door shut on a room of heavy silence.
He had thrown himself into a more grueling version of his training regimen since that night. He knew that if were just a little stronger, a little more resistant, he would've fought off the affects of whatever Lamm's man had slipped him in the middle of his big bout. So he worked and he trained and worked more.
It wasn't even losing. He had lost before, fair and square. Losing made him harder. But having it taken, against someone he could've beaten. That unfairness of it all. he had to get stronger, faster, better. For he WOULD face Lamm again, and then no trick, or poison, or fancy maneuver would save that rat.
Laijiri lifted the bar faster and higher, when he thought of Lamm. The pulse beat in his temple a little more fiercely. His muscles flexed and spasmed uncontrollably and he RAGED!
After, when he lay cooling off, and picking up the pieces of the broken training equipment, he noted something odd. Lying next to his water jug was a scrap of paper. No, on closer inspection, it was a card. The card had the picture of a bear on a bicycle on it.. Odd. Not his, never seen it.
That's when the orc bruiser noticed writing on the back of the card. He read "I know what Gaedren Lamm has done to you. He has wronged me as well. I know where he dwells, yet cannot strike at him. Come to my house at 3 Lancet Street at sunset. Others like you will be there. Lamm must face his fate, and justice must be done."
Laijiri wiped his face with a towel. This was the first real lead he'd had against Lamm. There was no way he was going to miss this!
To be here, in this place alone. Instead of with the chorus of those who served the Grey Lady. Those with whom she felt kinship and communion. Those who celebrated and revered the rituals of transition and passing over for judgement. No, instead she was here, alone. And it was all his fault: Gaedren Lamm
Working at the orphanage she had heard the whispers of missing children and those taken to commit petty crimes for the enrichment of an evil old man. But she had written those of as wives' tales or other such nonsense. She never dreamed it could really happen, and to her ward, her protégé.
She clenched her fists until the palms bled from nail cuts. Wounds that weren't fresh and reopened each time the anger took her. Even though she had the power to heal these, she refused taking those small wounds as a penance from her deity for her inaction.
She did go to her kit and grab a fresh bandage and that's when she saw it. A small card of some kind tucked inside her healing kit. Taking it out, she saw a harrow card depicting a strange puppet show or something.. She noticed a writing in a spidery hand on the reverse side, and flipped it over and read:
"I know what Gaedren Lamm has done to you. He has wronged me as well. I know where he dwells, but cannot strike at him. Come to my home at 3 Lancet Street tonight at sunset. Others like you will be there. Lamm must face his fate, and just must be done."
An omen perhaps, or a calling, thought the erstwhile priestess. Either way, I should find out. And she began gathering her things.
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The perspiration on her face and arms cooled as Daesra stepped away from the forge, turning the odd card over and rereading the note. "What is going on here? Who knows about my brother? How did this get in the smithy?" Her mind was awash in anger, over her brother’s murder, on how long they’d been apart and now to never see his face.
She was also angry with herself, over losing control over the failed blank - still cooling in her other hand - over being so distracted that someone could sneak in here and leave this so close. "I must be better, I will be better than this! For Taldrin’s sake!!" Daesra winced again, as the perspiration drying on her face made her scars itch.
”One strike at a time, one blank at a time, one sword at a time,” she repeated under her breath, the mantra used so often to keep her focus and bring her emotions to bear on the next task at hand. In a flash, she knew in her bones what that must be and tucked the card into her blouse.
Quickly hanging her well-worn smithy gloves and singed apron in their proper place, Daesra hurried to her barracks, past her off-duty sisters with barely a glance. They were used to that look on her face, and knew this was not the mood for quips and banter. At her cot, with well-practiced ease she slipped her shining breastplate on over the leather-padded under-suit, and carefully placed what few belongings she had in the satchel from the forge under the few ingots (and the ill-fated blank), packed along in case someone raised questions.
Hooking the scabbarded sword to her hip and slinging the small shield over her back, a voice of authority called out from behind her, ringing in the small room. "Going somewhere in a hurry, sister? You’re to be in the smithy this evening!”
It was Section Leader Naru, her direct superior and chief of the evening shift. Just as stern, but fair and reasonable, she was pleasant enough to serve under. There were many other Leaders who were casually cruel and harsh in command, and Daesra was glad it wasn’t one of them on duty this night.
"That last bit of iron we got is impure – I can’t even get a good bar out of it, let alone a decent enough blade. I’m off to replace it – the new lot won’t be in until week’s end and I need to finish up tonight. Your permission to run to the warehouse quickly, Section Leader?”
The sweat nearly started up again as S.L. Naru looked her up and down. "Here’s where all these years of being the good, reliable smith pays off – I hope." Not sure what else to do, Daesra reached for her sparring helm and began to don it.
”Very well Sister, be quick about it. I want you back before last dinner and at the forge. Understood?!?”
”Yes Section Leader, understood.” Daesra hurried from the barracks and across the compound to the main gate, repeating Naru’s instructions to the guards there. Once outside, she quickened her pace across the slick cobblestones under the rapidly darkening sky. "Well that went much better than expected. 'One strike at a time, one blank at a time, one sword at a time.' Now, where is Lancet Street?”
The failed Acadamae student used the card games to while away the time, and to ease the thoughts of losing himself in the illicit narcotic once again. Not the same rush as actually gambling with stakes, but still, it settled his mind. His mind turned to Gaedren Lamm, the cranky old crimelord who started him down that spiraling path of shiver and his anger flared. He'd kill that mobster if he could.
Just as he called the honeyed words and small container passed over in a handshake, his fingers felt something odd. A card in the deck wasn't the right shape. Surprised, he looked down and sawa tarot card or something.. Curious he flipped it over, and saw an inscription handwritten on the back.
"I know what Gaedren Lamm did to you. He has wronged me as well. I know where he dwells, but cannot strike at him. Come to my home at 3 Lancet Street at sunset. Others like you will be there. Lamm must face his fate, and justice must be done."
Gathering back up his cards, and his gear, Nox set out to determine just where Lancet Street was.
He wasn't sure exactly how he'd done it, but his curses of Lamm tapped something and now he dabbled in the dark arts. Perhaps, if he played his cards right, his anger might be about to change. He could make his own luck, he thought, and might start with revenge toward Lamm himself.
As he thought about this, he went to feed his familiar, the scorpion Heno, but when he got to the container where crickets and meal worms lay, he found something unusual instead. A Harrow Card lay there. He knw of the harrow, but not anything about it. He picked up the card and found an inscription written on the back in a spidery hand.
"I know what Gaedren Lamm has done to you. He has wronged me too. I know where he dwells, but cannot strike at him. Meet me at my home at 3 Lancet Street at sunset. Others like you will be there. Lamm must face his fate, and justice must be served."
Rienas' eyes opened wide as he read the note, the message aligning with his own thoughts. Make his luck indeed. It seemed that it was about to change.
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The gnome picked himself up, dried the slight sweat that always formed at his brow when he had to fight back those urges that reared their ugly head from time to time. Its just another day. I am not falling back into that trap again, Nox thought to himself.
He couldn’t help but stare at the card. He’d seen tarot and harrow cards before, of course, be he didn’t regularly carry a deck on him. ”where in the world did this thing come from,” he asked out loud to no one in particular in his empty room. He wasn’t surprised that someone else in the town hated Lamm almost as much as he did, that was for sure. That bastard had a hand in every low level crime in town.
He made sure that none of his belongings had been tampered with, and finding his pack in tiptop shape, he shrugged. Intrigued by whatever was happening, he threw on his gear and pulled his hat down tightly on his head.
He locked his room as he left and after a quick bite of dinner, Nox headed out to Lancet Street.
Perception
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Camber walked over to 3 Lancet Street. Native-born and streetwise, he knew how to reach the building without having to chart a course. The sun had not quite set by the time he arrived, so he sat down and looked around, determining where the way in was.
He pulled out the card, and looked it over. More importantly, he examined the note. The wording was flowery. Suggests some wealth, some influence. Probably expecting folks to take the front door.
He looked across the street from his seat to the building, shrugged, and clambered down the drainpipe to street level. They want formal? He can do formal. A clay-stained, folksy formal. Whatever. His boy needed saving.
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Daesra picked up her pace as the sun began to fall lower and lower, casting deep shadows on the streets and making her question her memory of the city. She had planned on being there by now but her stress over her current course of action was beginning to take an emotional toll. I cannot be late! Otherwise all if this is for nothing and Taldrin gets no justice. This Lamm character will pay for what he’s done!
She stopped for a moment at an intersection, trying to get her bearings, but after so long in the compound things no longer looked as familiar. Daesra contemplated asking for directions but just as quickly stopped herself. If I do that, then there will be more chances of someone remembering me on this street- like a masked person wondering about isn’t noticeable enough. Best to make sure I leave as small a trail as possible. Anyways, most of the folks she had seen were giving her a wide berth, unsure of what an odd individual would want down here.
”One blank at a time, one blank at a time…”, she muttered to herself as she cast her gaze about looking for some familiar landmark, some half-remembered street or shop name. The breeze shifted, and the stale aroma of the city was cut through by the heavenly scent of fresh mahktasha. Her stomach rumbled in response and then memories of better times in the orphanage with her brother washed over her, and suddenly the path clicked into place. The old neighborhoods were a map in her mind now and Daesra knew the best (and quickest) route to the street.
As she approached Lancet Street, she took in the surroundings and checked for possible places to be ambushed or for places where over-curious eyes may mark passersby. Guess I can thank the trainings for the extra caution – not really needed that much but every little strike makes the blade sharper.
She advanced purposefully down the street to #3, and paused for a second before knocking firmly upon the door. And I hope they have some mahktasha – I’m starving.
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He spun on his heel and visibly darkened, abruptly changing course and heading back through the taverns entrance without so much as a work to anyone. Rienas stormed down the street, walking briskly as though he were trying to make an appointment. Grief overtook him and he sobbed openly as he marched, his swollen eyes remaining alert as he was overcome by a cascade of thoughts and emotions. Dead. She's dead. He struggled to make his mind accept what his heart knew to be true. He was now on his own.
The half-elf had no idea where he was or even what time of night it was. He had paid no attention to his surroundings, mentally preoccupied thus far, and was suddenly sobered by the cold rain. Veering sharply from the path, Rienas headed straight into the forest, his elven heritage subtly helping him stay light-footed and move through the undergrowth with relative ease. Still walking without a destination, he came into a small clearing which surrounded a smaller pool, deep enough to blacken and block sight before revealing the bottom. On one side of the water, there was a rise in the green carpeted landscape and an outcropping of stone projected from it, hanging out over the water.
The grade of the surface of the stone was slight enough that the rain did not make it hazardous to climb, Rienas had no trouble stepping out to the end. Once there, he looked over the edge, down to the water's surface, and the view caught his attention. He could see himself reflected, standing at the edge of the outcropping of stone, The low full moon was a perfect backdrop to illuminate the image. Triggering more uncomfortable memories, the moon's reflection reminded him of the pendant his mother had worn for as long as he could remember. That simple thought triggered deep angry emotions, boiling out of him like an overfull kettle; he screamed at whatever might be listening. Why? Why her? She didn't deserve this. What larger purpose does this serve? He wasn't forming coherent thoughts as a mix of emotions poured out of him. As his questions echoed back to him in the clearing, his emotional state shifted. He was past the initial pain and sorrow but knew the loss would be with him for some time to come. He was now filling himself with all that remained, an alarming combination of rage and anger, as he demanded answers from his surroundings. Where do I find justice? How can I avenge her death? How do I take my revenge? Again regaining control of the highs and lows of his emotions, he almost speaks to a fraction of himself as his pleas taper back, nearly thoughts in his head now. Who is out here but me now? No one is listening...
A nearby voice startles him from his thoughts. Im listening.
Rienas flipped the card repeatedly; he knew the address and it wasn't far. What did he have to lose? At best, this was exactly what it was reported to be, a gathering of like-minded individuals intent on exacting their vengeance. He could work with that. At worst, it would be Lamms' cronies, aware of the enemies their boss generated regularly, gathering the people most disagreeable to his business model to be dealt with most efficiently. Either way or somewhere in between, he could still see it as an opportunity to at least gain a step in the right direction. He would go.
Traversing streets where he had to, and alleyways where he could, Rienas remained in the shadows of the buildings across the street and a few houses down from his destination. He wasn't trying to hide, merely remain unmemorable. Casting a glance at the sunset showed that time was up. Snap! The warlock snapped his fingers in a subtle motion to ensure he had Heno's attention. Stay alert. A soft thud in the dirt at his feet and Rienas knew his familiar was clear. You know I hate it when you do that. It is not necessary. The voice complained. I'll be the judge of that. Rienas responded, already on his way to the door, briefly smirking to himself.
Expecting that he was expected, Rienas reaches for the door handle and let himself in.
Daesra gathered some odd looks as she traveled across the city to the area around West Dock. She had a vague knowledge where Lancet Street was, and she found her hunch was correct. She kept on the alert for a trap or ambush, but never saw a sign.
Getting turned around once or twice, she still managed to find the right neighborhood -- a lower working class, but not destitute street filled with homes that were tended with pride. #3 was no exception. From the outside, it appeared to be neat, tidy and well kept, even if a bit small. White paint covered the outside, and the shutters were bright yellow along with a yellow rug on the step.
The masked maiden finds the front door slightly ajar, and after knocking with no answer pushes inside. The interior of this small, humble home consists of a single cozy chamber filled with a fragrant haze of flowers and strong spice. The aroma comes from several sticks of incense smoldering in wall-mounted burners that look like butterfly-winged elves. The smoke gives the room a dreamy feel. The walls are draped with brocaded tapestries, one showing a black-skulled beast juggling human hearts, and another showing a pair fo angels dancing atop a snow-blasted mountain. A third tapestry on the far wall depicts a tall, hooded figure shrouded in mist, holding a flaming sword 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 throw cloth and several elegant, tall-backed chairs. A basket covered by a blue cloth sits under the table.
Atop the table a stone paperweight holds down a hand-written note: "Thank you for coming. I had to step out for a bit, but shall return shortly. Please, have a seat while you wait. The basket under the table contains bread and drink for you."
Daesra just finishes reading this note, when a knock at the door reveals a small halfling man in simple work clothes. It is Camber.
Camber smiles and tips his cap. "Pleasure to meet you, miss. Hope you're doing well."
He pulls a Harrow card out from under his cap, looks at it a moment, and back at Daesra, before putting it away. "Ah, so you've been summoned, too? Guess that means we have something in common. Name's Camber."
He offers his hand in greeting.
Evening. Rienas extended a neutral greeting as he entered and saw he was not alone. Briefly scanning the room, he took quick stock. The two already seated at the table did not seem threatening. There seemed to be a tangible awkwardness between them that can only come from strangers in close proximity. Between them, his gaze passed the note on the table and he took its contents in. Panning the rest of the room showed it to be colorful and of a specific style; in fact, it reminded him of the image on the harrow card he had been invited herewith. He took an open chair between the two already seated, who were already sitting directly across from each other, and joined their discomfort. Clearing his throat as he looked at the remaining empty chairs, he noted out loud. Seems were less than half here, the sun was moments from being set when I arrived.
”Greetings Father – May your hearth be ever warm and your table ever full,” echos ever so slightly back to Camber as Daesra responds in a rusty Halfling. "I hope I got that right, it’s been a while since I’ve been down to this section of town." She extends her hand gently towards the smaller one, shaking it firmly. "I’m Daesra. Our host left some food if you’re hungry."
Daesra turns and takes a seat at the table, facing the door. Through the mesh of her helmet she looks about the room, trying to gauge what sort of person would live here, and how many people could fit. “You have one of those cards too? I’ve not seen the like, some sort of odd castle or Keep on it.”
She sighs heavily and sets her satchel under her chair while making sure her sword is ready to be drawn, should the situation call for it. ”What brings you here, Camber?”, brushing up on her Halfling as she pulls the basket from under the table and offers it towards Camber.
Looking up as the door opens again and assessing the newcomer, Daesra is glad for her helmet as a frown creases her brow. "Less than half? Do you know something about this meeting, are you the Host?", she calmly directs towards Reinas.
Smiling politely, Rienas nods his head towards the empty chairs. I know nothing of this meeting save what was given on the invitation, I merely counted chairs. certain now that these two were awaiting the same host as he, the half-elf extends his hand in greeting to both strangers. Excuse my manners you two, please call me Rienas.
The brightly colored gnome with the tall hat busted into the room, nodding to the others as he headed straight for the food and drink. He yanked off the hunk of the bread and poured himself a cup. He looked for the most comfy seat in the room and helped himself to his seat.
He coughed at the strong incense before getting the first bite down however. ”Woo, it stinks to high heaven in here! Cheap tobacco is one thing but incense is something else. Yuck! I’m Nininox Ambershale the XIV. You can call me Nox or 14, whatever you prefer. I suppose you lot also had a card put in your stuff telling you to be here. What do you make of all this,” he asks the others as her again begins eating his bread and cheese.
Taking in the flourish of color and movement that whirled through the door, Rienas stands and offers his hand in greeting. Well met Nox, call me Rienas. watching the gnome happily enjoying the offered refreshments, he smiles and, in jest, adds I guess we don't need to worry about those being g poisoned.
”Nah, the food and drink will be fine. If the person behind the card wanted, they could have slit my throat last night when they dropped it off in my room. It seems as if they want is all together for something more meaningful, I’d wager. And the bread is pretty darn good too,” he adds with a grin.
”What about you all? You get a message to show up here, too?”
Morganne made her way to the meeting place pausing at the corner of Lancet Street.
What if this is a trap? The fact that someone was asking questions could have gotten back to Lamm. After all, Asking questions didn't seem to be encouraged around here.
She steeled her resolve and made her way down to the house. I suppose if they wanted to they could have slipped me a knife instead of a note
Hearing the sound of conversation Morganne stepped into the ajar doorway. I don't suppose one of you could explain this odd way of greeting. She lifted the card between two fingers showing the depiction of the strange puppet show to those gathered. An odd bunch to be sure but at least they don't look like thugs.
There are indeed 6 identical, high-backed chairs, and a seventh more mundane looking seat set around the one table. Nox finds the bread a little stale, but is filling. The wine, while not fine, tastes good enough. None of the foodstuffs seem tainted in any way, and while you might be expecting an ambush, the coziness of the cottage soon has you all feeling just a bit more secure.
Not yet I can't. Rienas responds to the newcomer, rising from his chair near the door. We await our hosts arrival though they were considerate and left refreshments for us. Please, call me Rienas. The half-elf reaches his hand out in mutual respect before using it to indicate the remaining empty chairs. The choice is yours from the seats that remain if you would join us.
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Shaking Daesra's hand, Camber replies, "It involves Gaedran Lamm, that much I know. But let's see who else has been invited here tonight."
Camber observes the angel tapestry in more detail and Rienas and Nininox chat. "Nininox is right, you know," he observes, getting some bread. "If you want to trap a group of people you only invite them if you can't deal with them individually. If we were a bunch of big movers, yeah, this is a problem."
Camber swallows without biting into the bread. He twists and crushes it in his hands. "Of course, if you're going for small prey, you invite them with something easily given. A bit of candy. A new toy. Something to just make a kid forget things..."
He looks at his hands, and at the wrung-out roll in them. "I'm sorry. Just been... Why don't we see what our mysterious lure has to say?"
He takes a seat and tears a chunk out of his roll.
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Daesra turns her masked face to everyone in the room, and a slight echo resounds as she speaks. "What connection do you all have with Lamm? I can only guess our host knows everything, and from my business with Lamm I'll wager this isn't a meeting of admirers."
She doesn't touch the bread or wine, and offers up a heavy sigh. "Lamm has done ill to my family, and I'm here to even things up."
What an odd collection of souls to be brought together. No matter what happens tonight, I will be certain to be in a better position to avenge myself upon this villain! In a neutral tone she suggests, "We may as well make ourselves comfortable until our Host arrives. It may be a long night, sorting through everything at the table. My name is Daesra, by the way."
Turning her head towards Camber, she mutters in a soft voice (in Halfling), "Is everything okay? You seem upset..."
Hearing the irritation in the gravely voice behind him, Rienas rises again to greet it's owner. Turning as he starts to stand, and taking in the size of the newcomer, he keeps his motions easy and non threatening, extending his hand in offered greeting. Well met, please call me Rienas. We all have a harrow card and questions, our host should arrive any time now to start answering them. Sweeping his hand past the food and holding it pointing at the last remaining high backed chair, Rienas adds. Please, help yourself to both the refreshments that were left for us and the chair that has been saved for you.
Not long after Laijiri arrives and settles in with a bite to eat, the door opens, and you long awaited hostess arrives. She is an attractive middle-aged Varisian woman with long dark hair that is tied back with a brightly colored scarf. She smiles slightly and says, in a voice heavy with Varisian accent: "I am Zellara, a teller of fortunes," she takes out a deck of harrow cards from a pocket, and idly shuffles and mixes them as she speaks. "You are all known to me, yes, but perhaps not to each other. It would be fitting to begin with introductions, no? And then, I will tell you the reason I have summoned you all here."
Zellara's skill with the deck is quite apparent to anyone who watches. The cards seems to float and dance through her fingers, sometimes moving, it seems, of their own volition. With a nod of her head she indicates to anyone who is not yet seated to come to the table, as Rienas pointed out, there are just enough chairs now for the entire group.
Standing one last time, rhe half-elf reaches to shake their hosts' hand as he introduces himself to her and thanks her for the refreshments. I am anxious to understand why you have summoned me here; especially after finding myself in a room full of people who, it seems, have crossed paths very little or, mostly, not at all.
Morganne. She bows her head slightly and sensing no immediate danger, takes a seat.
I too am keen to find out what information you can provide us on our mutual "acquaintance". Anger spills out into her words.
I have reason to suspect that he has taken my ward. she sighs as a look of fear and concern cross her face. She takes a drink trying to calm herself.
The gnome takes off his hat and bows with a flourish. ”I suspect you know me somehow, ma’am, but I’m Ninninox Ambershale, the XIV, the most recent of my name. And I must say, I admire the way you work a deck of cards!”. He pulls out a deck of his own, and shows his own abilities, which didn’t seem quite as smooth of the harrower’s well practiced work. ”Id take lessons, if you’d give them,” he says, putting his hat back on.
Camber nods. "Camber Seedsplit, and it's a pleasure to meet with everyone. And, as best as I can gather, Mr. Lamm has taken something of great value from each of us."
His earlier outburst appears to have completely melted away.
Keeping her head fixed upon Zellara, Daesra shifts her vision to take the latest newcomers to the meeting. What have I gotten myself into, who am I getting mixed in with?? Inwardly, she steels herself and calms her nerves, trying to make something about all this seem normal and not succeeding very well. One strike at a time, one strike at a time...
Not much of a stretch to see you're responsible for the cards coming to us, so I will guess you know our motivations, Lady Zellara. What I am curious about is why you are doing this. And how you knew to contact us about Lamm. Leaning in over the table slightly, she manages to calmly say, I'm Daesra, just so we're all familiar with each other and getting comfortable with this.
She then leans back in her chair and keeps her visage behind the masked helm fixed upon Zellara.
She gives a wry smile and nod of understanding at your confusion and anger, and a quick nod when Camber mentions Gaedren Lamm. Her hands never stop moving the cards around even while she speaks again.
"Thank you for coming, my friends, and for putting up with my unconventional method of contacting you. I have reasons to remain hidden, you see -- a vicious man would see great harm done to me if he knew I was reaching out to you for help. This man had 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 Lamm's pickpockets stole it, my son Eran tracked them down and returned my deck to me. But Lamm had him followed, and soon after he left my home, Lamm's thugs murdered my son."
Her voice is a bit choked with emotion, and a single tear runs down her face but she continues. "I sought help from the Korvosan 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 abducted children to be pickpockets and counts his stolen treasures."
"But I need your help. I cannot hope to face this man on my own, and the Guard moves so slowly that if they were willing to help, Lamm would certainly know of their coming well in advance. And even if they arrested 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 Lamm has wronged each of you, also. So there we are, it is time for him to pay."
Once her tale is down, Zellara wipes the tear streak from her face, and smiles at you with real warmth. "I cannot fight or use magic, but I hav my talents. If you will seek out Lamm at his fishery hide out tonight, I will perform a reading for you, yes? My cards often tell important things about what has happened, or what perhaps will happen. Please allow this indulgence, yes"
She proceeds without waiting for an answer and spreads out 9 cards in fan, facedown on the table. "The first part of the harrowing is the Choosing. You will select one of these cards, and it will represent you through the rest of the reading. Each card is important, and the meaning of each will be revealed."
Not hesitating at the request, and eager to see how things played out here, Rienas reaches across the table and draws the seventh card. Well, what have we here...?
”Now we are talking! do love a game of chance. Plus an opportunity to strike at that bastard Lamm? Count me in,” Nox says as he selects his card.
Card
Camber looks at the card he's chosen, makes a pensive face, and pulls out the card he had originally been given as invitation, and places it face up on the table.
Camber's invitation shows a peacock, its tail in full display.
He patiently waits to hear more.
Daesra hestitates a moment, reaches across and draws a card. Pulling it closer to herself on the table, she flips it over and says after a cursory examiniation, "I have never put much belief in luck, but if it helps take Lamm down..."
Pondering for a moment she adds, "What of the original cards we were given, are those part of the deck, do you need them back?"
The card Rienas draws is The Locksmith. Zellara smiles at this card. "The Locksmith is a card of good fortune, yes? It means the keys to a new destiny. Our meeting tonight, your actions against Lamm, they will forge a new destiny for you, for all of us, perhaps for the whole city, no?"
Nox flips over his card and reveals The Avalanche. Zellara tells you this card is this card is a bad omen for all. "It portents unrelenting disaster. This disaster may still be averted, through your actions, but it is a large scale, no? Not just personal disaster. Great things are, perhaps, at work here."
Camber shows his card, which is The Juggler and Zellara relaxes again. "If disaster is to come, we now have two cards that say fate is on your side. This card means the gods themselves may intervene but on your side. Again, perhaps more than just the fate of Gaedren Lamm is told here. Your gorup may be meant for greater things, yes?"
As Daesra draws a card, Zellara motions for her to flip it over, and when she does, The Dance is revealed. "Like a complicated dance, this card indicates you must stay in harmony with each other. Grief and pain bonds this group, let it hold you together."
Then she answers Daesra's question. "Those tokens I left from you are of my deck but not part of my deck. I do not require them to make my deck complete. You may, in fact, see those calling cards in the spread before we are done, yes?"
Laijiri's card is The Cricket. Zellara explains this card stands for quick travel, speed, or the reward at the end of a journey. "This card speaks for itself. You must use speed if you go Lamm, do not let him escape. The journey will be his punishment, no?"
Morganne took a card but was obviously hesitant to do so. In her time as a priest of Pharasma she had read many prophecies, they were often vague and it was hard to determine of what event they spoke of. Let us hope this harrowing does not lead us astray.
The last card, held by Morganne, is flipped and shows The Demon's Lantern, a stylized will o wisp. Zellara frowns when looking at this card. "It means an impossible situation, yes? A problem with no solution. I don't like to think of Lamm like that, so maybe this means more, no? Maybe something to do with you, or the city, or something?"
With a deft swipe of her hand, Zellara gathers up the cards one more time, and begins shuffling and re-mixing them all together. Finally, she lays stops and begins laying out a 3x3 row of cards, face down.
"Now it is time for the spread, ok? The left column of three cards represents secrets of the Past, yes? This column also represents Law, because, the Past is unchangeable and set in stone. Also the top row of cards represents Good, the bottom wickedness and evil. The middle row, is portents that are, neither good nor evil. Now, I will reveal what the Past tells about you."
Zellara reaches out, her bejeweled fingers, moving with swift confidence, and flips over the top card in the first row. She has a quick intake of breath at what is revealed. The Winged Serpent.
"This care is a true match! it is of utmost importance in the whole reading, and a very good omen for all of us. The Serpent means bringing judgement from knowledge and knowing when to strike. Given our discusson about Lamm, a few moments ago, I cannot help but tell you this bodes very well for your endeavor this evening, yes?"
The second card down in the first column is The Cricket. It is partially aligned, and so of importance. Zellara tells you it often means quick travel or the reward at the end of a journey. She thinks this means your trip to Westpier 17, but cannot be sure.
The last card in the first column is The Betrayal. This card is also partially aligned.
"The betrayal is not a friendly card. But it can be a warning if heeded," the soothsayer tells you. "It stands for selfishness leading to ruin or perhaps loveliness hiding an evil heart. I can't help but think this card may be about our ignoble Queen, who is lovely, but not very royal in intentions, no? Be wary and trust only those in this room. Give your selfishness up for the good of all, my friends."
Nox sits quietly, entranced by the woman’s card handling and equally impressive story telling abilities. He can’t help but wonder what else the reading will show about the group!