Tain's Journal
Night, the 26th of Abadius

“What’s the plan?” asked Aria.

“Well to begin with, let’s escort Marianna back home,” I began, but the young woman shook her head.

“No.” Mari’s voice, usually girlish or excited in tone was serious, and perhaps a little sad. “I’m in this with you.”

I looked at Marcus, expecting him to argue (though not necessarily win), but he just looked at his sister, eyes narrowed slightly, and said nothing. I was surprised that he did not offer some sort of protest, and wondered what had passed between them, but if her brother did not insist that Mari not partake of this mission, then neither would I.

“Well you’ll need something appropriate to wear then Mari,” continued Aria. “Tain and I probably won’t look too out of place in Old Korvosa armed and armoured – we’ll pass as mercenaries. How can we make you look like a mercenary or scoundrel … maybe if you wore a rapier …”

“But I can’t use a sword!” Mari protested, sounding more like her normal self. Marcus and I agreed with her. “She’ll just look awkward wearing a blade she’s not used to,” I said. “Mercenaries come in greater variety than just sword-swingers,” added Marcus. “She could be a mercenary wizard for example …”

Mari ignored him whilst Aria continued. “Well at least wear a dagger, or two. Oh, you can buy a pair of boots with a dagger sheath on the side.”

“Or we can get her an entire bandolier of daggers,” Marcus observed, Mari continuing to ignore him.

“Anyway, you’ll need some new clothes cousin,” Aria stated. “Everything you own will stand out like anything at Eel’s End.” A discussion ensued about where Mari could find a suitable outfit, such as something borrowed from her own or Marcus’ servants, or wearing something that had belonged to Talia. Mari discounted all of these suggestions outright, insisting that she would buy something suitable.

“Well you’ll not find a clothing boutique open at this hour,” said Marcus, squinting about in the darkness, “so we’ll need another solution if we are to visit Eel’s End tonight.”

“I’m not sure that we should go tonight,” I said. “It would be best to wait till morning.”

Marcus looked exasperated. “We’re fine,” he said, absently touching the torn sleeve of his doublet, where the would-be assassin’s blade had pierced him earlier in the afternoon. “And we are not likely to find Ambassador Amprei indulging his vices during the morning.”

“That is why I suggest it,” I said. “I think it would be best if we try to approach Barvasi when Amprei is not around – he is more likely to inform on his client that way.”

The others saw the sense in this, and we agreed to visit Eel’s End on the morrow, meeting at Marcus and Mari’s town house at the tenth bell. In the meantime though I insisted on walking the others home; despite the fact that all seemed quiet here, we could not count on the streets being safe, and I had not yet forgiven myself for not being present during the earlier ambush.

We walked briskly along the cobbled streets, cloaks pulled tight around us to stave off the night time chill. As we walked, Aria spoke up again. “There is another thing that occurs to me; even if our garments don’t betray us as nobles tomorrow, our voices and accents surely will. Tain, you are the most common amongst us – oh, no offence meant …”

“None taken.” I smiled inwardly. It was ironic. Whilst the Merivanchis considered me a commoner – and indeed they were right, as I am not of noble birth (though my family was moderately wealthy), most in Old Korvosa would mark me as a noble by my speech and dress.

“Anyway,” my cousin by marriage continued, “perhaps you should do the talking on our behalf once we get to Eel’s End.”

“I’m a pretty good actor,” spoke up Mari, “and I can do a good Varisian accent.” Marcus rolled his eyes.

“I am happy to speak for us,” I said, “but you should know that I have made a holy vow that no lie should pass my lips … so if I speak for us, my approach will be direct.”

“Fantastic,” said Marcus sarcastically. “You’re doing the talking but you can’t lie? We may as well don Guard uniforms and be done with it.”

“I won’t lie,” I said, “but neither do I need to tell the entire truth…”

Soon we reached the town house. I bid the others good night, then returned home without incident, to spend a few hours praying for success on the morrow before turning in.

Tain's Journal
Mid-morning, the 27th of Abadius
Old Korvosa

We met at the appointed hour and began making our way north across the city, on foot. We were all dressed in older and more worn clothes than typical (except Mari, who had found time for shopping in the morning and was wearing a quite sensible if new looking outfit) and Marcus had exchanged his ornate fencing blade for a more functional looking rapier. Mari had the wand we had found at Lamm’s warehouse tucked into her belt (I supposed that she had taken Marcus’s advice to dress as a mercenary magician after all) and Aria and I had our holy symbols tucked away out of sight, wearing our borrowed armour.

The journey across the city was peaceful enough – it seemed that the Guard were beginning to bring things under control – and had it not been for the occasional burnt out building or long food queue that we passed, or the occasional flight over head of a Sable Company hippogriff, it would be hard to know that we walked through a troubled city.

Soon enough we reached Northpoint, passed by the Bank of Abadar and City Hall, then crossed over the Narrows into Old Korvosa. The streets here were narrow, with tall and decrepit buildings crowding in from either side. Most of the people on the street were either visibly poor while those with anything worth stealing traveled well armed. Marcus had been concerned that our weapons and in particular Ari and my armour might make us stand out – but not so much. The locals gave us little trouble; at one point a rather brazen fellow leaned forward to leer at Ari, and made some off-colour remark, but before either Marcus or myself could leap forward to defend her honour, she merely looked at him with her Pharasma-touched eyes and he quickly backed down.

I led the way eastward, remembering on which pier Eel’s End was located from my days as a Guardsman (the Church of Abadar seldom sent patrols into Old Korvosa). And there it was, the long pier stretching halfway across the Narrows back towards Northpoint, with the large, decommissioned ship moored at the end almost completely blocking the strait. Another four ships (all old and in poor condition for sailing) were docked at the pier. The Goldenhawk appeared to be a tavern of some type, the House of Clouds was a brothel, the Twin Tigers a gambling hall and the Dragon’s Breath was a drug den.

A fair number of people were about even at this hour, visible on the pier, or on the decks of the ships, and even at this hour many of them appeared drunk or drugged, though most seemed cheerful enough – those not vomiting off the side of the pier, or crying into their hands over lost money or perhaps belated remorse at their sins. I was surprised that the place was so busy, given recent (and current) events in the city, but I suppose that in times of uncertainty and hardship the foolish and weak of spirit often turn to such vices seeking false comfort. The wise find strength in themselves, in their families, or in the gods.

A number of people about were armed, but there were no obvious guards – at first glance. On closer inspection there appeared to be a burly well dressed man or two standing near the gang planks leading to each of the ships. They carried no visible weaponry, nor did they appear to be stopping people from coming and going, but they were clearly keeping an eye on things.

“Well,” commented Marcus, looking at the scene before us, as we stood on the street near the pier. “Where shall we begin out search for Barvasi?”

“I would suggest either the tavern or the gambling den,” I said. “In the tavern, people may be less focused on other pursuits, and we may be able to ask about for information. On the other hand, a man like Barvasi will probably stay where the money is, to keep a close eye on things – thus we might find him at the gambling den. Of the two, I think the casino the better option.”

There were no dissenting views, so I led the way onto and across the pier towards the Twin Tigers. There were two smartly dressed but rather thuggish looking men standing to either side of the gang plank; I strode purposefully past them, and they made no effort to stop us as we filed along the plank and down into the ship’s dark hull.

Tain's Journal
Late morning, the 27th of Abadius
Eel’s End

The entire hull of the old ship had been converted into a cheap but gaudy casino. A wide mezzanine ringed the ship, set up with a bar, tables and comfortable seating. The gambling floor, hosting dice and card tables and settings for more exotic games of chance occupied the centre of the ship, set down some ten feet from the mezzanine level, accessed by a wide stair. Another spiral stair at the rear of the ship led upwards. The whole place was lit with hanging chandeliers that might have been of crystal and gold, but were more likely glass and copper. Although we were on a boat, there was hardly any sway or movement, so securely was it lashed to the pier (and thanks also to the relative stillness of the Narrows). Here and there around the room stood burly men in uniform-like outfits, keeping a close eye on the patrons – including us.

“We’re drawing attention, standing here,” I said, noticing eyes upon us. “We’d best move, perhaps over to the lounges.”

“Or down to the gambling floor!” suggested Mari, already beginning to move over to the stair, before Marcus put a hand on her arm, almost dragging her around the other way, towards the lounges. “You don’t know how to gamble,” he said.

Once we were seated, in a position where we could survey the chamber, Marcus signaled a waitress. “What do common people order to drink?” he asked me in a low voice as the woman sashayed over. “Ale?” I suggested.

“Not that common,” Marcus replied.

“Perhaps some type of spirits then, or the house wine,” was my next suggestion. Marcus, looking horrified at the idea of drinking the house wine, ordered some Varisian vodka.

I began scanning the room – not just with my eyes, but reaching out with the senses granted to me by Abadar, the ability to see the evil lurking within people’s souls. I suppose I should not have been surprised that most of the patrons on the gaming floor or drinking at the bar were not evil – since my courtship with Talia had first began several years ago I had moved often in noble circles, so I knew better than most that foolishness and decadence did not always equate to evil.

I did see evil though, here and there. Some of the patrons and most of the guards. For the most part it was a small, petty sort of evil, a festering of the soul, but two individuals stood out, the evil radiating out from them in black waves. One of the two was a guard, the one standing closest to the entry-way. He was a giant of a man, six feet tall and seemingly almost as wide and deep. He had a shaved head, no neck to speak of, layers of fat and muscle bulging beneath his too-tight tunic and coat. The other, a tall skinny man dressed in a robe embroidered with fighting tigers, stood on the gambling floor, carefully watching the players.

Slowly, I tuned back in to my companions’ conversation. “I still think we should gamble,” said Mari, jiggling her coin purse. The large bag of coins that Field Marshal Kroft had given us was both heavy and conspicuous, so before we left for Eel’s End in the morning, someone had suggested that we split the coin into four smaller pouches, and carry one each. “If we win big, Barvasi will notice us – he might come to us.”

“Who says we would win?” asked Marcus thoughtfully. “But losing big may attract us just as much attention…”

Aria shook her head. “We don’t have funds enough with us to lose a lot and still bribe Barvasi when we meet him.”

I interrupted. “That man down there, in the robe. I suggest we speak to him – I have a feeling he may be able to get us to Barvasi.”

Marcus peered over the railing to where I had indicated. “He’s probably the floor manager. It’s certainly worth a shot.”

We all stood, and I led the way down to the gaming floor.

Marianna's Journal
Brock House
Early morning

The grey morning welcomes her. She sits in the bay of her window, a book resting limply in the palms of her hands, as she watches the early morning traffic pass on Janus Street. She is up early, as usual, to enjoy the peace of the morning. Sometimes she studies or simply sits listening to the sounds of the bay in the distance. On some mornings, she is content to look on the passers-by. Marcellano often lies next to her, purring softly as she strokes his dark fur.

The mornings are quieter now, hushed as if the city itself was holding its breath, the people wary of some unknown danger or some portent soon to be revealed. Everything has changed. The people are reticent in the wake of King Eodred’s death. She feels nothing in the grey chill of the morning. She stares at the departing fog. Somewhere in the house, Tybus growls and his claws click against the wooden floors. Marcellano rolls on to his stomach to dig himself deeper into the sheets, seeking her fading warmth. She turns her attention back to the street below.

There is a soft knock at her door. It is his knock, not Raethe’s. She is vaguely aware that she is not ready to receive guests, not even her brother. She pulls her dressing grown tighter, suddenly mindful of the winter cold, her thin nightdress inadequate protection against the early morning chill.

Mari, he says softly, through her door.

Come in, she replies.

He enters, looking tired and troubled. He is still dressed for bed. The door closes silently and he moves into her room.

We need to talk, he says, about the other night.

I told you, she says detached from the moment, there is nothing to talk about.

I disagree! You risk everything with your silly, wilful behaviour! Running around the streets at night! Disguised as an old gypsy woman! What are you thinking?

You want me to stop? I recall a certain crocodile...

I want you to do what is expected of you. You jeopardise everything. Our family honour, your honour, your betrothal. Everything!

It is all I have, she says absently and still numb, the magic. It is all that I have that is mine.

You’re being foolish, he says taking a step forward, you have been given everything.

Except my freedom, she looks out the window and wishes him to be gone, all I have is what I am told to have.

You are to stop Mari, he says in a harsh voice that reveals the edge of his patience, we must think of the house.

You think of the house, she says, I serve its wishes.

We all serve the wishes of our family. You will cease these studies. Mari, it is time you accepted your responsibilities.

No, I will continue.

I will not allow it! You will remove yourself from your classes. End of discussion.

He stands, walks to the door and turns to face her. He is angry. She turns to face him, too unfeeling to argue.

Please go.

We will speak later, he looks confused and not too sure why he is doing in her room at this hour, about this and other liberties you have taken.

The door opens and he disappears into the gloom of the corridor.

Marianna’s Journal
Early Evening, 26 Abadius

There is blood on the cobblestones, fine flecks of blood on her shoes and the hem of her dress, she notes absently and remembers she has a cantrip that can remove any stain. She suppresses a giggle.

She is conscious of her mounting horror, these men before her sacrificed their lives for nothing. She forces herself to stop trembling, she wanted to sit down.

The alleyway was too narrow and too dark. She could not feel the air and desired nothing more strongly to be on the bay, to feel the sea breeze flow over her. The guard were filing past, someone spoke to her and she nodded; did she speak?

Someone took her by the arm and led her out into the darkening light of the evening. She felt a slight breeze on her face and pulled away from Marcus’ firm grasp.

Time passes and she waits. She withdraws into herself, she wants to be small and alone, hates herself and her brother. She thinks about the men and their families.

Wives? Children?

Ari speaks to her and she nods, does not offer her a reply. She listens as Ari and her brother speak about something, the attack? She listens, failing to take in their words. Agon appears, she smiles (weakly?) at him, and he nods.

Tain arrives soon after the fight. He speaks with the Guard Sergeant. He replies, gruffly, something about custody and questioning. Agon leaves with the guards. Tain returns.

I apologise for not escorting you home, he says and looks them over, had I not left early, they may not have attacked you – at the least I would have been there to help.

She mumbles something, sure that no one heard her.

It has been a dangerous city of late, her brother replies. He plays absently with the tear in his sleeve. She knows of a cantrip that could mend the tear and says nothing.

The situation is worsening, Tain says and she is suddenly relieved to see him, if street thugs are now attacking travelers on the streets but two blocks from Castle Korvosa. Or the second possibility; that this attack was not random, that you were targeted.

She takes a breath and looks at her brother, cousin and brother-in-law in turn. Smiling (weakly?), she looks at her feet as the guardsmen remove the dead men.

Some agreement passes between them and she allows herself to be led home for the night.

She walks behind them, listening absently to their conversation, feeling nothing but the pleasant breeze on her face. She adds nothing to the conversation or to Marcus’ recount about their meeting with House Bannyer. She is sick of politics and manoeuvring. Her feet begin to ache.

We will certainly need a way past those Hellknights, her brother says, if we are to find Sabor.

She speaks, surely if we have the authority of the Queen, or even the Guard, they will let us pass?

Perhaps, perhaps not, Ari replies, it will depend on whose authority they are here…

Her cousin continues speaking. Her mind drifts off to the dead men. The guilt weighs on her, she feels like vomiting. She takes a breath instead and looks at Tain.

…that things have slid too far towards chaos here, they would act on their own. At any rate, I would prefer that we find Sabor before the Hellknights do, to see that she is brought to fair trial to determine her innocence or guilt. The Order of the Nail are all too likely to act as judge, jury and executioners.

She remembers a conversation with Agon, about Sabor being a scapegoat. If the woman was set up and accused of murdering Eodred, then the conspirators were unlikely to ensure she received a fair trial. Tain was being idealistic or naïve? She did not care; the numbness was filling her again.

Suddenly she felt a desire to feel that presence again, the ancient presence she had felt twice before. It stirred her blood, called to something within her; made her feel something at least. She thought of Orlando, his spiteful face, and the need to feel contact with the ancient force became stronger.

The conversation has progressed without her as she trailed behind, deep within herself. Her brother had just finished saying something about the Crimson Throne and his loyalty.

She also feared failing her Queen and her circle. She had no doubt that failure would mean utter ruin for them all, especially if the Queen secured the Crimson Throne for herself. She found herself wondering about Lord Bannyer’s motives and the true purpose of their meeting earlier in the day.

Soon they would be home.

Tain's Journal
Late morning, the 27th of Abadius
The gaming floor of the Twin Tigers

The thin man gave me a look of annoyance as it became clear that I was coming over to speak to him – if he was intimidated by my size or the weapons I kept about my person he did not show it.

“Excuse me,” I began with as much politeness as I could muster towards someone with such darkness in their soul. “My companions and I have some business we wish to discuss with Mister Barvasi. I was hoping you might be able to arrange a meeting for us.”

The floor manager looked me up and down for a moment, glanced at the others gathered behind me, then said “No. I don’t think so.” I was momentarily taken aback at being so completely rebuffed, and while I gathered my thoughts for what to say next, Mari stepped up beside me. “This meeting will be profitable,” she said, smiling sweetly and pressing a handful of gold coins into the man’s palm. He looked at the coins – there must have been twenty or thirty gold pieces – smiled mirthlessly and shook his head. “Nope,” was all he said.

“It will be to Mister Barvasi’s advantage, our proposal,” I began to speak again, but the man cut me off. “Piss off, I’m working.” Looking past me he signaled to one of the guards – the massive, evil fellow I had noticed earlier.

As Six Foot Cubed began to lumber down the stairs, I stepped away from the floor manager and turned to face the approaching threat, positioning myself so that I would be the first one of us he came to. I felt Ari step in beside me, whilst Marcus moved towards the floor manager. “Look,” I heard him begin, speaking quickly and earnestly. “We’re here on behalf of a patron – someone rather important …”

I tuned out the rest, focusing on the approaching guard. He was not as tall as I, but must have outweighed me by at least half again – probably more. Although he was not visibly armed, I had no doubt that he would be an accomplished and deadly bare knuckled fighter, and for my part I had no intention of swinging my heavy flail or firing my crossbow in a room crowded with (relatively) innocent civilians. I stepped forward to meet him.

“Perhaps you can help us then,” I said. “Take us to Mister Barvasi.”

He stopped, confused, expecting a fight. “Urm … nah, I can’t do that. You gonna have ta leave. Ya can come quiet-like, or I can throw you out.” Several other guards lurked in the background, looking to see how things would develop, ready to help him carry out this threat.

I clenched my gauntleted fist, while Aria took a battle ready stance – and then I heard Mari speak behind me, in a clear, musical voice. “Oh no, you don’t want to throw us out,” she said. “I’d like us to be friends. Please?”

Now Mari is certainly an attractive girl. Woman really. I can see a lot of Talia in her. And people just seem to like her, are willing to do things for her – but I really did not expect Six Foot, ready for a fight as he was, to go for the cute, sweet girl act.

Apparently he didn’t expect to either – but somehow he did. He blinked a few times, a look of confusion crossing his dumb, brutal face, and then he smiled down at Mari, showing a mouthful of chipped and missing teeth. “Alright then … you can stay.”

“And my companions too,” said Mari, cheerfully but with authority. He looked less pleased at this, but nodded his grudging consent.

I stared at him, then at Mari, then turned to look back at the floor manager. He looked as dumbfounded as I felt, just shook his head in disbelief, but before he could say anything Marcus attracted his attention again, finishing his pitch.

“So what is Barvasi going to say when he finds out you prevented a deal that would have made him a lot of money, hmmm?” Marcus was asking. Seeing Six Foot enthralled by Mari, and given the repeated mention of money, the floor manager seemed to give in. “How much money?” he asked, somewhat suspiciously. “We do alright here you know.”

Marcus produced his coin purse. “Two hundred and fifty, gold,” he said. The floor manager snorted. “Is that it?”

“We have the discretionary funds to pay several hundred more if Barvasi will deal with us,” I interjected. “I think he will find it profitable.”

The floor manager threw up his hands. “Fine, fine. Just get the hell off my floor. You!” This last was directed at Six Foot Cubed. “Take them up to see the boss.”

Six Foot nodded slowly, smiled again at Mari, then led the way towards the spiral staircase at the back of the boat.

Your DM is pretty lucky to have several of his players writing such excellent journals.

Tain's Journal
Midday, the 27th of Abadius
An audience with Devargo Barvasi

The stairs led up to a tiny landing in what must have been the ship’s sterncastle, with a heavy looking door of oak reinforced with iron bands opposite the top of the stair. Six Foot knocked loudly on the door, then opened it, gesturing for us to squeeze past him into the cabin beyond, before stepping in after us.

The room was large, no doubt occupying most of the sterncastle, and well appointed, but I did not much notice the details, my attention focused on the spectacle at the far end of the room.

There stood a tall man who could only be Devargo Barvasi. He had a pale, pinched, feral looking face (although it was currently pulled into an expression of cruel pleasure) and wore black leather armour, sleeveless so to show off the corded muscles and tattoos of his arms. On his hands he wore leather gauntlets adorned with oversized, razor sharp blades … blades that dripped with blood.

The blood belonged to a near naked man strapped painfully to a bench beside Barvasi, his flesh covered in dozens of cuts and flayed patches. As we entered, Barvasi caressed his skin with one of the blades, then swiftly dug it in, eliciting a hoarse scream from the man – this had obviously been going on for some time.

The crime-boss looked up from his work, studying us with interest (though seemingly no surprise), whilst the several burly men who were lounged around the room came to attention, watching us carefully.

I gritted my teeth and clenched my fist. I knew that we were here to bargain with Barvasi, to get him on our side … but could I really stand by whilst he took such obvious pleasure in torturing this man?

“Easy Tain,” muttered Marcus. “Ari, can you -” But whatever he was going to say to Aria was cut short, as he realised that she looked almost as angry as I did.

I could stand by no longer. “Step away from that man Barvasi,” I growled, “or things will go badly for you.”

Barvasi smirked coldly. “Oh yeah? Are you going to make me?” His men started edging forward.

“Yes.” I grabbed me flail and charged towards him as Barvasi called to his men, “Stop him!”

As I leapt forward, everyone else in the room began to act at once. Six Foot started to reach for my arm with one beefy hand, but Mari said, “Don’t!” and the thug hesitated, torn. Aria reached for her morning star and began chanting a prayer. Marcus drew his rapier and leaped at one of the thugs trying to block my way, but the unfamiliar blade stuck as he drew it forth, and his resulting lunge was clumsy, almost sending him sprawling.

I charged across the room, shouldering goons out of the way as I swung my flail mightily at Barvasi with both hands. “I smite thee, evil-doer!” The criminal had settled into a defensive stance, and was preparing to leap aside and cut at me with his gauntlet-blades, but the fury of my assault took him by surprise – as my flail hit him with bone-shattering force in the ribs. He crumpled to the floor, eyes rolling up in his head, blood and phlegm dribbling from his slack mouth.

Two of Barvasi’s thugs charged at my back, striking at me with their fists. They may have been unarmed, but they were trained boxers. Not used to fighting opponents wearing breastplate armour though … one of the men cursed as his fist bounced harmlessly (for me) off my armour, whilst the other hit me hard in the jaw, splitting my lip. A third guard scooted around me and knelt down beside Barvasi, lifting up an eyelid to see if his boss still lived. Six Foot still stood near the door, shaking his head in confusion as Mari pleaded with him to join the fight – on our side. “I can’t!” he wailed, but neither did he fight against us.

A voice called out from the stair, asking if all was well – the door was obviously sound proofed (as the screams of Barvasi’s victim had not reached the casino below), but we had left it open. As I whirled about to face the thugs behind me, I saw Aria turn and slam the door shut, then look about for something to move against it. Mari’s eyes were sharper – she saw the key in the lock, turned it.

Marcus, his sword issues sorted out, and buoyed by Ari’s prayer of blessing, closed in behind one of my assailants, cutting a thin slice along his side with his rapier. As the man howled in anger and pain, I swept my flail low at his companion’s legs. The thug tried to jump out of the way, but I was quicker, my flail knocking his feet from under him and sending him crashing to the floor. As I spun, I noticed out of the corner of my eye that the third guard had pulled a glass bottle from his belt-pouch and was about to pour the contents into Barvasi’s mouth. I continued my spin and brought my flail crashing into the man’s hand, breaking his fingers with an audible crack and sending the bottle flying, smashing. The man howled in agony, rocked back, clutching at his ruined hand.

“Yield!” yelled the only thug still standing (with the exception of Six Foot Cubed, who stood still, having decided to help neither side in this skirmish), putting his hands up in the air. “We surrender.”

As quickly as it had begun, the fight was over.

Wow... Did you score a critical on Barvasi??

I actually rolled a 19, but in the heat of the moment we all forgot that heavy flail threatened a critical on a 19-20 (and no one wanted to break the flow of the game by flipping through rulebooks – especially as we only have one hard copy of the PFRPG core rules between us so far and probably no one is familiar enough with it to know which page the weapons tables are on). So, long story short, I didn’t roll a crit confirmation roll. I did however roll max damage on the hit, was smiting evil, and (using one of the campaign house rules) had paid an action point to evoke my ‘Smite the Evil-Doer’ trait to add an extra d6 to the damage roll.

I’m not certain, but I suspect that I took him down to 0 hit points, or very close to it.

Marianna’s Journal
Night, 26 Abadius

She follows them into the citadel, uncaring she obediently keeps in step behind him, dutifully quiet and unheard. She is dimly aware of the guards looking her over as she passes the gates. One chuckles quietly behind his hand. They are led through a warren of corridors and courtyards to the brightly lit office of the Field Marshal. She notices the stern looking woman in her uniform, hair cropped close to her skull and envies her freedom.

Thank you for coming, Cressida Kroft says inspecting them in turn and making her own silently judgment. She notices her brother’s surprise, she is mildly surprised herself, to see Master Vencarlo Orisini sitting in a high-backed chair, an ornate blade resting across his knees. She averts her gaze as their eyes meet.

Marianna, he says rising and taking her hand, it is a pleasure to see you again. She smiles, feels a genuine surge of warmth and courtesies appropriately. She notices Kroft’s staring at her and looks at the ground. The pleasure is ours Master Orisini, she replies.

You’ve all seen the state of the city these past few days, Kroft begins. The Guard is stretched thin trying to keep the peace and ensuring, as much as possible, that everyone is kept safe and fed. Between riots, looting, gang violence and desertions, her expression darkens at the last, we are struggling, even with the assistance of the Churches, she nods to Aria and Tain, the Sable Company and even … the Hellknights.

Tain frowns, keeping his own counsel, and she sees a similar expression on the faces of her brother and cousin. She was becoming curious about these Hellknights and their interest in Trinia Sabor.

There are things that the Guard has just not been able to attend to – and some things that it would be best handled by … others. To that effect I have been putting together some teams of specialists – loyalists, people with skills, but not necessarily known to be affiliated with the Guard. She looks us over again, assessing us, then nods. You come highly recommended by Lady Elizabeth and the Queen, she adds.

So, I have a task for you. I’ll have Master Orisini give you the details.

She does not like the idea that they are still serving the machinations of Lady Elizabeth and the Queen. She feels that Trinia Sabor is the scapegoat, she is sure there is more to this than the late king and a bid for power. She turns her attention to Orisini.

The ambassador to our fair city from Imperial Cheliax is a man by the name of Darvayne Amprei, Orisini begins. [/i]It is no great secret that he hates Korvosa, and to all appearances his appointment here. What is less well known is that he has, for many years, been seeking to buy up property within the city – he is quite a land-holder, and has some influence over many of his tenants.[/i] The old man rests his hand on the hilt of his blade, pausing for a moment. We believe that he has been using his money and influence to stir up trouble within the city and de-stabilise the economy. Up until now, this has been on a small scale, but with the recent troubles he has increased his activity. It appears that he intends to keep the current chaos going for as long as possible – enough perhaps to leave Korvosa ripe for a take-over by the Empire.

She glances at Tain, notices her brother musing over Orisini’s words, before he offers his opinion. Ironic, a finger running along the line of his chin, it was not so long ago in our history that many in the city would have welcomed a return to Chelish rule, she cannot help but think of the Old Harpy as he makes his statement.

Perhaps, Tain says, but I believe that sentiment has changed as rumours of House Thrune’s loyalties and atrocities have been proved true.

She runs her eyes over the room, notes Kroft’s expression and turns her attention to Orisini. Our city will never again willingly bow to tyrants, he declares. She almost giggles, thinking of the Queen and the dinner party. Her thoughts turn to the Old Harpy and her betrothed, she stifles a laugh. Orisini adds a touch of authority to his tone, we want Amprei gone, but the Guard cannot simply arrest him… or stick his head on a pike.

She thinks diplomatic immunity… as Tain says, diplomatic immunity, she looks across at him, you do not want us to… He stops, his eyes narrow and his brow wrinkles. He looks older, she thinks absently and her thoughts turn to Talia.

…this man Barvasi, Tain says and catches her attention, but I know this type; they respond best to money… (and violence she adds silently)… We may need to pay or bribe him.

Kroft nods and turns to a small, open strongbox behind her desk. One thousand gold pieces, she asserts. We will keep receipts, Tain says (she giggles into her hand).

She does not know Amprei, though her brother quickly claims too in answer to a question of inquiry from Ari. Kroft asks if there is anything else they require for the mission, Ari and Tain successfully requisition armour.

There is also the matter of recognition, her brother says, obviously we are happy to serve the city in this capacity, but we will need the correct tools to do our job properly.

The Field Marshal frowns slightly, I’m not sure that I follow you – you’ll be deputised, so you may act with the full authority of the Korvosan Guard.

She shakes her head softly, knowing what her brother is requesting from Kroft.

What my cousin is too modest to ask outright…, Aria begins, after a glance at Marcus.

They want rank, Field Marshal, rank. She states it harshly, rushed. She returns Ari’s stare.

The point of us hiring you, Kroft frowns, is that you’ll be working under-cover, independently of the rest of the Guard. You won’t be running patrols or standing guard duty, you won’t have anyone working under you, and you won’t have anyone but me giving you orders.

I believe that the Field Marshal is saying that we will be outside the chain of command, Tain says interjecting, exact rank is unimportant in the context. He turns to Kroft, I further understand that we should report only to yourself?

The Field Marshal nods. Yes, to me, or to Vencarlo if I’m unavailable. He acts with my direct authority in this matter. Orisini smiles and looks at Marcus. You know where to find me if I’m not here, he says, directing his statement at her brother, who nods.

Speaking of such things, I met your companion Agon earlier in the day, Kroft adds. I suggest that it might be best if he did not come with you to Eel’s End; someone there may recognise him as a member of the Korvosan Guard, which could throw this whole mission into jeopardy. I’ve reviewed his file … Agon seems a competent Guardsman, but he is rather … noticeable.

She looks with amusement at Tain, nodding slightly. She is disappointed; she was still hoping that Agon might be joining them. She was still figuring out on how the half-elf could serve her own ambitions, however, she was more baffled as realised that she had begun to enjoy his company. She paid little attention to the rest of the conversation; she followed Orisini and the others to the armoury.

Farewells were exchanged and she followed the others out of the citadel.

Marianna’s Journal
Night, 26 Abadius

“What is the plan,” asks Ari.
“Well to begin with, let’s escort Marianna back home,” Tain begins, but I shake my head. Leaving the citadel, I push away my feeling of anxiety and take forget about needing Agon or Osric. They were absent and I was unable to call on them.

“No,” I reply confidently and note the small amount of regret in my voice. “I’m in this with you.”

I notice Ari and Tain look at Marcus, who is looking at me, and I am just about to say something when he does not reply. I hide my surprise by looking out into the street, away from my brothers and my cousin.

I try to ignore Ari as she comments on my clothing, suggesting I find something more appropriate. She says something about a sword and I am disgusted by my shrill reply. “But I can’t use a sword.” Marcus and Tain nod in agreement.

“She’ll just look awkward wearing a blade she’s not used to,” Tain says. “Mercenaries come in greater variety than just sword-swingers,” Marcus adds, “she could be a mercenary wizard for example.” I am grateful for Tain’s wisdom, but have a strong desire to turn Marcus into a toad.

I ignore him, ready to protest my innocence of magic. Ari saves us the unnecessary discussion. “Well at least wear a dagger or two. Oh, you can buy a pair of boots with a dagger sheath on the side...”

I am intrigued, excited by the prospect of dressing something more… daring. I give Ari a look that may have been more appropriate if she had suddenly sprouted a second head. Marcus says something about a bandolier of daggers and I ignore continue to ignore him. I wish I had that polymorph weave worked out!

“Anyway,” Ari continues, “you’ll need some new clothes cousin.” She looks me over. “Everything you own will stand out like anything at Eel’s End!”

The ensuing discussion has less to do with my opinion than with my relative’s individual ones. I take a breath and think about lightning strikes and banishment spells. I consider the difficulties of summoning a swarm of lice…

“Well you’ll not find a clothing boutique open at this hour,” Marcus says sagely, squinting about in the darkness. “So we’ll need another solution if we are to visit Eel’s End tonight.” I stifle a grin and continue to ignore him.

“I’m not sure that we should go tonight,” Tain says. “It would be best to wait till morning.”

Marcus replies in frustration. Tain talks him out of going to Eel’s End tonight. I stand in the background watching the exchange and not really listening to anyone. I am thinking about Eel’s End and feeling guilty again about those two men. May be I need to consider that this is not an adventure and realise that two men are dead because of me. I push the guilt aside and take a breath. They agree to meet at Brock House, at the tenth bell.

“There is another thing that occurs to me,” Ari says. “Even if our garments don’t betray us as nobles tomorrow, our voices and accents surely will. Tain, you are the most common amongst us – oh, no offence meant…”

From the look on Tain’s face, I am pretty sure he would also be interested in a polymorph weave or the implications of summoning a swarm of lice right at this moment. I give Ari a withering look.

“None taken,” the paladin replies. “Anyway,” Ari continues uncomfortably, “perhaps you should do the talking on our behalf once we get to Eel’s End?”

“I am a pretty good actor,” I hear myself say and cringe inwardly, “and I can do a good Varisian accent.” I notice Marcus roll his eyes and I am not in the least insulted. Why did I say that?

I ignore the rest of the exchange, wish for an invisibility weave and follow Marcus home.

Tain's Journal
Just past midday, the 27th of Abadius
Barvasi’s chamber

Marcus and I used the ropes that had tied Barvasi’s prisoner to the torture table to bind the three thugs, while Mari stood whispering quietly to Six Foot, who sat slumped, his head in his large hands. Aria had used her magic to heal the worst of the torture victim’s wounds, but we could get little sense from the man, who seemed to be in shock.

There was a muffled knocking at the door, and someone tried the handle, to no avail. The door was solid, and the landing small enough that they could not use a ram to force it. That, and any uncertainty amongst the men outside about exactly what was transpiring in the cabin would give us some time.

On the floor, Barvasi moaned, shifted, coughed up blood. He was probably not in immediate danger of dying, but my hit had no doubt broken ribs and done him internal damage – he would need to see a healer soon or he would be in real trouble.

We removed his gauntlets, then, together, propped him up in a chair. I stood ready beside him, holding my flail ready, while Marcus bent down and slapped his face lightly. “Wake up Barvasi. We need to talk.”

The crime boss opened one eye, glared balefully at first Marcus, then me, and spat redly onto the floor. “If you kill me,” he said hoarsely, “you’ll need to fight your way through fifty armed men to escape.”

“And you’ll hafta get past me,” spoke up Six Foot, standing up and positioning himself, arms folded, before the door. “Don’t hurt ‘im.”

“We don’t intend to kill you Devargo,” said Marcus, standing straight. “We’re here to talk. Do business.”

Barvasi snorted, then coughed when that hurt. He looked down at himself, at me standing beside him, at his bound henchmen. “This is how you do business?”

“I could not let you torture that man,” I said sternly. “Such an act could not go unanswered.”

“He deserved every cut,” the criminal snarled. “Heard of Gaedron Lamm? Well that man was one of his cronies. Likes little children if you get my meaning.”

I looked over at the man we had rescued, sitting against the bulkhead, sitting in slack-jawed shock. He did look somewhat familiar … that was it, one of the men carrying crates when we had burst into Lamm’s hideout those few nights ago. Whether he was an accomplice to atrocities or simply a hired hand I could not know, but Barvasi was at least telling the truth that this was one of Lamm’s men. My heart sank. Had I compromised our mission for Kroft in order to rescue a criminal? Someone who, if convicted, may well face the same punishment that Barvasi was inflicting on him?

After a moment of doubt, I realised it did not matter. I had seen the look on Barvasi’s face as he cut the man – I had been right to act. It was not Barvasi’s place to punish without trial and conviction of a crime.

“You are an evil sadist,” I said. “You are fortunate I did not kill you – and will not if you co-operate.”

“Oh, so you could kill me,” mocked Barvasi, then wincing at the pain. “If you kill me, someone else would take my place here – and who’s to say it wouldn’t be someone worse than me? Someone like Lamm? Oh, perhaps I am evil, but I have my limits. I don’t rape children; I don’t sell slaves to Cheliax or Katapesh, or,” his eyes narrowed as he gazed at the four of us, “the nobles of this city. I run legitimate businesses, offering entertainment and hope to people in dark times.”

I began to retort about him preying on the foolish and vulnerable, but Marcus cut me off with a look. “Business. As I said, that’s why we are here – and you must admit, we are bargaining from a position of strength. Hear me out.”

“Maybe,” answered Barvasi. “But I can hardly do so if I die before you finish.” He wheezes and coughs again, his chin and neck now stained with blood. Ari stepped forward and retrieved a small glass bottle from her belt pouch, poured a few drops onto the man’s lips. Immediately some of the colour returned to his face and he sat up a little straighter.

“You’ll get the rest if you agree to deal with us,” the priestess said sternly. Barvasi nodded, and Ari gave him the rest of the potion. There was immediate and obvious improvement to his condition, although it was obvious he was not completely healed. I tightened my grip on my flail just in case … but he didn’t try anything, just nodded at Marcus to continue.

“Our employer – a person of considerable influence – wishes to know as much as possible about the Chelaxian ambassador, Darvayne Amprei,” Marcus began. “We’re given to understand that the man frequents your fine establishments here, and that you may be in a position to know something of his schemes and habits. We’d like you to tell us all you know.”

Barvasi looked incredulous, then shook his head. “Amprei? That’s who this is all about? Well … Amprei is a powerful man, dangerous to cross. What’s in it for me if I snitch on him?”

Marcus nodded towards me and smiled. “My companion will not smash your face with that big flail he holds.”

The criminal sneered. “I told you, kill me and you won’t get out of here alive. If my life or death is your only bargaining chip, then I’m afraid we are at an impasse.”

My brother in law looked at Aria, who shrugged, then the two of them produced their coin purses, letting the heavy bags drop onto a side table. “This should break the impasse,” Marcus suggested. “Five hundred gold pieces. Yours – not to mention your life – if you tell us everything you know of Amprei.”

Tain's Journal
What Barvasi Knows

“Agreed,” Barvasi replied after a short pause. “Ambassador Amprei is a man of surprisingly few vices, for a Chel. He doesn’t drink to excess, nor gamble beyond his means. He stays away from drugs that are dangerous or illegal. What he comes here for is sex. Oh, his tastes do not run to the particularly deviant if that’s what you’re thinking, he just likes to be with women that are not his dear wife back in Westcrown. His favourite at the House of Clouds is a girl named Bessy.”

Barvasi pauses again, perhaps for effect, or perhaps because he’s still in pain. “I happen to know that the girls at the House of Clouds are not the only ones Amprei has been tupping. He’s also been involved in an affair with a young lady named Yasmin Marcella … he’d certainly not want a certain person to know about that.”

We all exchanged significant looks – of course we recognised the name from the diary we had found at Lamm’s hideout, and I’m sure we were all wondering exactly how much Amprei might have had to do with Lady Yasmin’s disappearance.

“Who exactly would Amprei not want to know of the affair?” I asked.

Barvasi shot me a withering look. “His wife of course. Try to pay attention.” He looked at us expectedly, his tale apparently finished.

“What of Amprei’s schemes?” Marcus asked.

The criminal shrugged. “What would I know of that? Amprei comes here to screw, not to shoot the breeze. Ask him yourself if you’re so interested.”

“Our patron had led us to believe you knew a lot more than that,” said Marcus skeptically, to which Barvasi just shrugged again. I looked at Marcus and shook my head slightly. It seemed to me that Barvasi was telling the truth, and besides I thought that the information we had on Amprei might just serve Kroft’s purpose.

“If that’s all you have, then we will take our leave now,” I said.

“Yes, back to Citadel Vraid,” replied Aria looked hard at Barvasi, attempting some misdirection. “Don’t think about trying to hinder us as we leave,” she said. “Nor follow us. I guarantee it will not be worthwhile for you.”

“We’ll be taking your prisoner into our custody too,” I said, indicating the recent torture victim, who still seemed somewhat dazed. Marcus and Mari were already finding him some ragged clothes to wear, and a short length of rope to bind his hands. “He will receive any punishment that he deserves, but not by your hand.” I hesitated, then reached for my purse of coins, the share of the bribe money that I carried, and placed it on the table beside Barvasi. “We’ll stay out of your way, you stay out of ours.” I had no fear of the man or his thugs coming after me, but his type are not always so direct – I did not like the thought of him choosing say Mari as the target of his revenge.

Barvasi looked at me, then at the rest of my companions. “There aren’t many I’d let get away with what you did here, payment or not,” he said slowly, candidly. “But you don’t entirely fool me you know. I strongly suspect that you’re nobles or close to it, and that this patron you’ve mentioned is somewhat I won’t want to mess with. So I’ll consider our dealings concluded. But should you decide to return to Eel’s End, all bets are off.”

Tain's Journal
Early afternoon, the 27th of Abadius

Barvasi was true to his word (so far), and we left Eel’s End safely and without incident, and Old Korvosa shortly after. I concerned myself mainly with the way forward, and keeping a tight grip on our prisoner, whilst the Merivanchis remained alert for any sign of pursuit, of which they saw none whilst we made out way across the Narrows and into the new city.

“I’d like to question this one, see what he might know – whether of Lamm’s organisation or Barvasi’s,” Marcus said to me in a low voice as we traversed the wide avenues of Northpoint.

“The Bank of Abadar is just ahead,” I noted. “I was going to take him to the holding cells there.”

Marcus frowned. “Will we all be able to get in there to question him in that case?” he asked.

I was about to reply that I should be able to get them in, as I had done done for Aria the previous day, when my mind turned to the near disastrous questioning of Balko. It could hinder my authority if our new prisoner heard the story that was no doubt doing the rounds there. “On second thoughts … it might not do to give him a chance to speak to Balko.”

Marcus pointed out that our route back to the Citadel would take us near enough to Osric’s warehouse – a secluded place to question our prisoner, but I did not like that idea for various reasons. In the end, we decided to take him with us to the Citadel and question him there.

*

We had traversed most of Midlands, and were nearing the point where we would turn east towards Citadel Volshyenek when Marcus, who was still occasionally checking to see if we were being tailed, said in a low voice, “Don’t look back, but I think we’re being followed. Some distance behind us, purple cloak. He’s been with us for a while.”

I remembered the others saying that the men who had ambushed them near the Sweeping Griffon had been wearing purple cloaks, and the significance was obviously not lost on the Merivanchis.

“If we turn back suddenly, perhaps we could detain him,” I suggested, but Marcus shook his head slightly. “He’s too far back,” he said. “He’d get away easily. Everyone, this way!”

Marcus turned right down a side street (heading away from the Citadel), and, as soon as we rounded the corner, took off his hat and the old riding jacket he wore, and put them on our prisoner. “That might work,” he muttered, then to us, “Keep moving, but don’t lead him back to the Citadel. I’ll follow.” With that, he ducked away, out of sight down a narrow alley.

As we continued walking (rather aimlessly at this point), it occurred to me that we didn’t know exactly what Marcus had planned. We could see (glancing carefully back) that the purple cloaked man still followed us from a distance, presumably having not noticed Marcus’s hiding place. I assumed that Marcus was following him too, though I couldn’t see him. Not knowing where out tail’s tail was exactly, I could not be certain that we could trap the man if we turned to confront him now.

Having turned right from Harbourview Boulevard, we now found ourselves heading almost directly towards Castle Korvosa – we could see the castle ahead, towering above the city upon its pyramid base. Something else occurred to me at this point. “The ambush last night,” I said to the ladies in a low voice, “it began with someone tailing you in this manner did it not?” The pair agreed that is what had happened. “This may pose some danger,” I continued, “but perhaps the best way to catch our tail is to lead him back to his own territory – try to draw him into attacking us. If you are both in agreement, I’m going to lead him back towards the Sweeping Griffon.”

Aria immediately agreed, while Mari was more hesitant. Not scared; she had amply proved her bravery, but uncertain. Still, with her two companions for the idea, and both of us promising to protect her, she soon agreed.

Tain’s Journal
Afternoon, the 27th of Abadius
Near the Sweeping Griffon

There were a few people around, hurrying along on their own errands, but the streets were not near so crowded as you would have expected, so close to the Castle prior to the current troubles. We skirted around the Castle, a street or so back from Seneshal and Castle Streets, concerned that the concentration of guards here might scare our follower away.

As we neared the Sweeping Griffon we were all on alert. Some sixth sense drew my attention to the rooftops – and it was there, on the roof of the inn, that I spied our would-be assassin. A dark clad man knelt by the edge of the roof, a loaded crossbow pointed down in our direction. My eyes met his, just as his finger began to tighten on the trigger.

“Archer!” I cried. “Mari, watch out!” I noticed a deeply recessed doorway in the wall of an adjacent building, and pushed our prisoner within, hard enough to make him stumble, gesturing for Mari to shelter within also.

I spun about and raced back towards the alley we had just passed – I had noticed within it a rickety wooden stairway on the outside of the inn, leading up to the roof. As I turned, I saw our purple-cloaked follower, still some way behind us. I had expected him to rush forward to join the attack – but instead he stared for a moment, then turned and ran off down a side street. Someone broke into a sprint and raced after him – I realised it was Marcus. I hoped he could handle the man on his own – in my armour, and with an archer on the rooftops, I was too far away to help.

As I headed for the stair, Mari ducked into the cover of the doorway, whilst Aria pulled out her sling. A crossbow bolt whizzed down from above, sticking inches deep into the wall of the building near the doorway where Mari and the prisoner sheltered. I pulled out and loaded my own crossbow as I ran.

I gained the stair and started racing up, taking two steps at a time, but slowed by my bulky armour. I heard a loud curse from the rooftop and a cheer from Aria – it seemed that she had found a mark with her sling-stone, though she had obviously not caused any serious injury. I was sure that the crossbowman would have fired again by now, but the fact that I could not hear any alarum from below boded well.

I reached the roof – it was tiled but with only a slight fall towards the edge, easy enough to traverse. I could see the archer kneeling by the edge nearest the street, pulling back the lever on his crossbow to re-load. As I brought up my own crossbow to fire I glanced about, in case of more danger. I could not see the street from here, but from this high vantage point I could see back the way we had come – I noticed two figures wrestling in the street, one of them being Marcus. I prayed that he would be all right as I fired – and, distracted, missed!

As my bolt flew past his ear, the crossbowman aimed and fired – not at me, but again down into the street. I heard a scream. It did not sound like Mari or Aria – who had been hit?

He started to reload yet again as I dropped my crossbow and raced across the roof towards him. I felt something whoosh past my ear, and, glancing back, saw Mari standing behind me, her hands outcast. Whatever she had thrown hit the crossbowman in the back, and he screeched in pain. I smelt something burning. Had Mari cast a spell at him?

I did not have time to wonder, as my charge had brought me up to him, and I slammed my gauntleted fist into the side of his head just as he was bringing his crossbow around in my direction. He crumpled to the roof, not quite falling off it, his weapon dropping from slack fingers. I knelt beside him. He was breathing, still, but shallowly – if he did not receive some sort of healing soon it was not likely he would live. He had an egg shaped bruise on his forehead from Aria’s sling stone, a scarred, burnt patch on his back the size of a fist from whatever Mari had thrown at him, and my spiked gauntlet had ruined the left side of his face.

Looking down to the street, I saw Aria kneeling in the doorway of the building opposite, her hands glowing slightly as she laid them upon the prostrate form of our prisoner. I saw the crossbow bolt sticking out from his shoulder. She glanced up and saw me looking down. “The bolt was poisoned!” she called out. “I’m doing what I can.”

I nodded, then dragged the unconscious, bleeding crossbowman across the roof to where Mari stood. She had her back to me now, looking out across the city block towards Marcus. I looked too – saw that a small crowd had gathered to watch the brawl. One combatant seemed to be on the ground, whilst the other was climbing to his feet, apparently victorious. I sighed with relief, realising that the one standing was Marcus.

“Are you alright?” I asked Mari softly, not sure what else to say. It wasn’t the time to ask her how she had done what she had done. She nodded, but did not turn to face me. I looked down at the man I held by the tunic. I realised that unlike the man following us, he did not wear a purple cloak. Had he shot at our prisoner on purpose? He did not have long left to live.

I took him by the throat and held his limp body out over the edge of the building, feet dangling towards the alley below. Calling upon the mercy of Abadar, I felt a warmth in my hand, mentally pushed the positive energy into the broken body I held. As I watched, part of the flesh of his wounded face knit itself back together. His eyes fluttered.

I held him straight out, the muscles in my arm straining, and looked straight into his face as he began to realise the position he was in. “Who do you work for?” I growled.