|The Harrow GM|
Let us see what the Harrow speaks of your fate.
Your lives have been shaped in no small part by one man. At some point in your past, your course was derailed by Gaedren Lamm, and thenceforth you will never have been the same.
You have patiently waited for your chance at revenge, and that chance is now, as your fates become intertwined.
Pharasma has more in mind for you than a simple vengeful killing, however. The political climate in Korvosa is changing. Not long ago, King Eodred II took a new bride, a young woman barely a third his age. Now the king has fallen ill, and his condition is worsening despite the best efforts of local doctors, clerics, and mystics. The Curse of the Crimson Throne is threatening to take another, and to pass power over Korvosa into the hands of a nearly unknown young girl.
And, into your fate, a single Harrow card drags you.
|The Harrow GM|
Akiki is disappointed at first. That looked like some good money, and the traveller hadn't looked like he'd have missed it much. Its not that Kiki only steals from rich people ... its just a preference. She thought she'd been in luck.
One measly card? She crumples it up upon reading it, staring out over the rooftops she calls home. "G!+@@*n it."
She has to get her sister back, of course. But this sounds a bit too much like hero's work. And Akiki can't afford to be a hero. Not these days.
In the end she packs up her stuff, dons her armor, tucks her knife into her sleeve, and creeps off towards the location mentioned on the card. She's planning on spying on it a bit, a couple hours before the appointed time, just to see who else shows up and whether they look like they might stuff her in a sack or drown her in the river.
Spyin': 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (3) + 6 = 9
She's not very sneaky at all.
'Someone has been following me,' Raijinn glared at the card, as worry spread through his body, followed rapidly by rage. 'They saw what was happening and yet they did nothing.' His blood began to boil.
Burahl noticed the change in Raijinn and asked him if anything was wrong. The Tiefling turned to look at the man who had saved his life and asked for next to nothing in return. Raijinn reminded himself that there were good people in the city, and he smiled at Burahl, and replied, "Better than ever."
Raijinn tucked the card into a pocket and adjusted the bag on his shoulder, trying to maneuver it around his destroyed wings. His other hand subconsciously checked for his sword, already itching for revenge. 'Perhaps,' he thought, 'this robed figure would be of some help.'
Thaven looks at the Card twice, then blinks and looks around. The hovel he's been squatting in is hardly secure, but he's relatively sure he didn't see anyone or any sign of a break in. He fiddles with the card, his hands making nervous motions as his mind works.
Could it be a trap? A prank by a former academy mate? Did he dare hope? He had run into dead ends in his search for Lamm so far, perhaps this was the sign he had asked fate for so many times?
He sighs and begins to belt on his father's armor. It takes a lot of buckle tightening; apparently the shakes he's had for the last week left him skinnier than before. In response to this, his stomach growls and he fishes the few small coins out of his shoes and shakes them in his hand. Not much there, but enough to buy a cheap meal by the docks. He belts on his sword, slings his bow over his shoulder and eases through the broken window onto the 2nd floor balcony overlooking the rambles of Old Korvosa. He lets himself down to the ground, ignores the sudden stares of passersby, and heads toward the docks to get a meal.
Then it's off to Lancet Street, to watch the address before the meeting. Forewarned is forearmed, as his father... His train of thought breaks off, leading back to his disgrace and dishonor of his father's good name. 'Maybe today is the day I redeem my honor.' he thinks and heads toward the bridges leading to the docks.
"Brother Jael! Brother Jael!"
The door was thrown enthusiastically open - hinges groaning against the explosive movement - as Nostrum burst into the room. His eyes swept across the hall, taking in the candles, religious symbols and rows of neat chairs that made up the makeshift church. Although the place was cramped, the sight of a clean and organized place of worship brought joy to Nostrum's heart. However, the room seemed to be void of anything living apart from the ceremonial spiders. Nostrum quickly crossed the room and climbed the stairs. After checking the kitchen, he found Brother Jael reclining in their small shared bedroom and reading a well-worn book entitled "The Embracing Purge".
"Brother! Youwon'tbelievewhathappenedtowhilstiwasdeliveringtractstopeopleinthestreet- " Jael raised a hand to silence Nostrum. He asked him to start again - slowly - and reminded him that they have all the time in the world, until the Devourer returns to destroy both space and time.
"I'm sorry Jael, you're right, it's just momentous news! I was in the high streets today handing out pamphlets for our next service... and I was visited by an angel! A man appeared to give me a message, and when I looked again, he had disappear. I've been praying for so long that I might be led to Gaedren to share Our Lord's Gifts with him and now out of nowhere I am to be led to him!". Jael couldn't suppress the grin that formed from seeing his young follower's ardor. The pair spend some time in prayer, thanking Rovagug for always making their path clear.
Finally, Nostrum collects his gear and sets off towards Lancet street. So focused on how he will treat Gaedren when he finally sees him, Nostrum doesn't realizing he is quietly singing:
"My faith is in the Unmaker,
His coming is assured
Our world will be torn asunder
By His most loving maw"
8 Rounds of Bardic Performance
|The Harrow GM|
|The Harrow GM|
Arriving several hours before sunset, Akiki begins to snoop around the house located at 3 Lancet street. The house is an unremarkable one, a one-story three-room affair. It's empty, of course. She has a long time before she's "supposed" to be there, so Akiki clambers up onto the roof, both to get a good vantage point and to get off of the street. Most people below don't think to look up, and most that do likely don't want to bother her, and just continue on their business. However, after about an hour, an armed and armored human man begins to loiter, and shoot the occasional glance at her.
About an hour after Akiki arrives, Thaven Jack saunters down the avenue towards the house. Taking a post on the porch of an adjacent house, he notes the lithe elven woman skulking on the roof of the house at 3 Lancet. Her eyes are bright, and scan the streets for...something. No one comes home, but a few people look at him, outfitted as he is, askance. One man asks him if he is where he belongs.
The pair meet eyes for a moment, and a flash of acknowledgement is shared between the two.
In a city of humans, a tiefling stands out. Especially one that manifests so strongly as Raijinn, and the two lurkers notice as he pushes his way through the street late in the evening, scowl well-fixed on his face. He shoulders aside anyone that gets into his way, and takes a place nearby, staring furiously at the house. Most people try to avoid him. Women with small children usher them away when their children get close.
Wishing to be as punctual as possible, Nostrum arrives just as the sun is disappearing over the horizon and the sky is a light violet. His large frame, quick and chipper gait, and huge weapon draw gazes from everybody nearby, and anyone that passes close enough to hear the hymns he sings under his breath takes more than awhile to look away and continue on their business.
Goffred walks down the avenue a bit after the sun has set, scholarly robes flapping in the nighttime breeze. The street in front of 3 Lancet avenue is nearly empty by this late, and Goffred knows he’s late, so he makes a beeline for the house.
As the sun sinks in the sky, those who The Harrow has brought to 3 Lancet shiver with anticipation, and each wonders what could await them inside.
Fredo, just catch up when you find this to post.
When anyone asks him if he belongs there, Thaven smiles and answers, "Meeting a friend, neighbor. Got to see about a very important job."[/b] He takes note of the sneaky elf woman, but doesn't take any obvious notice. When the sun sets, he'll stand up, stretch and head to the door, knocking on it with his hand on his sword hilt. If no one answers, he'll try the door. If it's unlocked, he'll go in.
|The Harrow GM|
There is no answer to Thaven's knock, and in fact the door wafts slightly open at the hilt's touch.
The inside of the house is small and cozy, and filled with a haze that smells of flowers and strong spices. The haze comes from several sticks of incense smouldering in wall-mounted burners that look like butterfly-winged elves. The smoke itself seems to soften edges and gives the room a dream-like feel. The walls of the living room are draped with brocaded tapestries, one showing a black-skulled beast juggling men’s hearts, another showing a pair of angels dancing atop a snow-blasted mountain. A third tapestry on the far wall depicts a tall hooded figure shrouded in mist, a flaming sword held in a skeletal hand. Several brightly-colored rugs cover the floor, but the room’s only furnishings are a wooden table covered by a bright red throwcloth and several elegant tall-backed chairs. A basket covered by blue cloth sits under the table. A short hallway to the left leads to a humble bedroom and a lavatory.
The house is empty, and no owner presents themselves at this time. On the table is a note, weighted down by a paperweight. The note reads "Thank you for coming. I had an errand and had to step out for a bit, but please, make yourselves at home while you wait."
The basket below the table contains bread, cheese, and a bottle of wine. There is another note in the basket that reads "This is for you."
Nostrum arrives just in time to see a haggard man in weathered armour entering the house. He notes that the man is definitely not the one who gave him his invitation, but by the way he entered the building Nostrum reasons he must be his host for the evening. He makes his way to the open door way, but pauses at the threshold to knock.
"Hello sir? I received an invite to this address. I'd like permission to enter your abode?"
"Courtesy never goes unpunished" - The Path To Destruction, Chapter 4, Verse 112.
Akiki comes climbing down off of the roof off the back of the building, and then sneaks around to the front to approach with the others. She doesn't like being in the open, and the others that she sees entering the house only confirm her suspicions that this is some kind of set up.
Still, she has to find out what's going on, so pads silently after Nostrum, not making much fuss about her presence, and not saying anything.
Raijinn stared patiently at the small house, watching the humans and elf make their ways inside one by one. He frowned, unsure of what others were doing there.
After pondering the idea of abandoning this route, he decided to stay the course, and followed the others into the house.
The movements and actions of the others suggested that they didn't belong there either, but also weren't looking to rob the place, so Raijinn ignored them.
Unable to find the robed figure he had heard about, Raijinn stared at the tapestries, trying to discern if he had seen anything like them before.
Knowledge: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (2) + 4 = 6 (+4 if Knowledge Arcana applies)
|The Harrow GM|
The home is warm and well-lit and inviting, and the table has exactly five chairs arranged around it. The note at the table suggests that it will be a bit before the house's owner returns.
Thaven, and Raijinn settle into a silent standoff inside the home, while Nostrum patiently waits outside for the 'owner' to respond. Akiki waits behind Nostrum.
Raijinn, you think the tapestries represent either dieties or some outer plane or other. You're not exactly sure. They're probably just decorative.
So uh, y'all should talk. You guys are all here for the same reason.
Thaven takes a roll and some cheese and pours some wine. "Ain't my house, neighbor. I received a message that the owner of the home had some information I am in need of, so I came. I have a debt to repay to a man named Lamm and I intend to pay it off soon. Man owes me blood. About all he's got I imagine. You folks? Why're you here?"
Akiki eyes the food, her eyes narrowed. She debates whether to say anything. If it is a trap and poison, it would serve him right for being careless. Right? Right?
"Something similar. I wouldn't eat that." She nods at the bread and cheese and wine, "Unless you know your informant better than I do."
G$!$~#n it, Kiki.
Somehow, she just can't help it.
|The Harrow GM|
The sky grows darker, and a figure passes by the window and walks into the house.
A robed figure enters the home. The hood is pulled back to reveal an attractive, middle-aged Varisian woman. She nods to each of you in turn, and then begins to speak.
"I'm sure you're all wondering why I gathered you here. My name is Zellara, and we share a common past. You all have been wronged by a man called Gaedren Lamm, and this man has wronged me as well. Several months ago, while I was in the market, one of his pickpockets stole my Harrow deck.. It had been in my family for generations, and as a fortune-teller my source of income as well. Now, I have always had a bit of magical talent, and I used this to try and divine where Gaedren was hiding. After I found it, despite my wishes, my son Eran went to confront the thug. He was killed. Now, I have information on where he lives but I fear to do anything on my own against him. I need brave men and women, but the city guard won't do anything. I reached out to you because I knew that you had a personal stake in this. Now, please, I need your help. Gaedren lives in an old, abandoned fishery in Old Korvosa. The building is in escrow, waiting to be claimed by the city. He won't be forced to move for years, and in the meantime he is free to be as cruel to his "Lamms" as he wishes. For the sake of the city, and for the sake of closure for all of us, you must bring this man to justice.
What do you say? Will you help me?"
I'm trying to keep up a post/day. Please tell me and/or forgive me if I'm moving past peoples' abilities to post.
Having followed the cloaked figure into the house, Nostrum listens attentatively to her words. Barely noticeable to the unobservant, his eyebrows briefly furrow on the mention of Gaedren's "Lamms".
"It pains me to hear of your son Zellara, it is a tragedy to lose loved ones. I cannot speak for these other people..."Nostrum glances at the others, unsure what to make of them "... But I know Lamm most definitely needs to cease his wasteful life. I am most willing to find him for you."
Nostrum's brows furrow once again.
"I haven't seen nor heard but whispers of Gaedren in years. Do you know anything else of his activities of late?
diplomacy: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (9) + 9 = 18
sorry about delays yesterday, unforeseen technical failure
|The Harrow GM|
She turns to Akiki and says "Let us just say that I have my sources. The Harrow tells me many things."
She then turns to Nostrum to say "He's been doing more and more of the same. Taking in helpless orphans and using them as slave labor. He has a few paid thugs now, as he's gotten to be very old. He does a pretty brisk business in harbor-dumplings selling fish slurry, which is basically fish shreds. Much more than that I cannot tell you. He keeps a tight rein on his "Little Lamms", his orphans. Word has it that whenever they displease him, he disposes of them somehow."
"You have no idea how grateful I am that you folks are willing to help me in this endeavor. Gaedren deserves whatever is coming to him.
Akiki is skeptical of this answer, but decides not to say anything. Regardless of how, the woman knows stuff, and that's enough to make her wary. Starting out wary is the safest mindset to be in, so Akiki says,
"He may have my sister. I need to get her back, so I guess if we're working together to take him down, I'm on board."
She's still worried about this idea - but she thinks about Semelle and steels herself anyway.
|The Harrow GM|
"They're punishing me, Cat," sighs Fredo, shutting his door behind him. The little room he rents is crammed full of furniture—a narrow bed, a narrow desk, shelves, a cocktail table Fredo had taken off someone's garbage pile. All are stacked doubly high with papers, bound in butcher-paper folders, bound with metal clasps, or stuffed unceremoniously into crates. Fredo flops into a chair by the cocktail table, rips off his barrister's wig, and tosses it onto a peg on the far wall. The cat, a surprisingly plump, black animal with a white face, feet, and belly, hops onto Fredo's lap. Fredo strokes her once, but she doesn't start purring like she normally does. Instead, she bats at Fredo's pack with her claw.
"You want to read the file?" says Fredo, hauling it out and opening it on the desk. "I'm telling you, I couldn't get this guy off if I wanted to. Which I don't." He picks Cat up and holds her up to his face. "The man stabbed three dockers. According to the witness the City put up, one of them was trying to organize an illegal, underground guild. Said my client was in the pay of the Leroung shipping interests, and I'm pretty sure I believe him. That's why they kicked this to me. He's disposable, they don't want to be seen hiring an expensive lawyer for him, and they want to pay me back for getting that other docker his back pay last month. It's gonna be Hell trying to discredit that witness tomorrow. What do you think, should I buy him a drink afterword to make up for it?" Fredo feels Cat's back tense, and a feeling of worry and fear ripples across his thoughts, then she hisses suddenly and claws at his face. He drops her in surprise, and she lands with a yowl on the open file. She jumps away, scattering papers all over the floor.
"Cat!" exclaims Fredo, scrambling to pick them up. Fortunately, they're still mostly in order, but as he shuffles them back into shape to replace in the folder, a small piece of pasteboard falls from the pile. Cat looks at it and hisses, her back arching even more pronouncedly. Fredo gives it a troubled look, but finishes putting the file back together before turning back to it. He stoops, and picks it up. It's as fine as paper can be made, thick and sturdy, but not coarse. It looks almost woven. Its edges are lined with incredibly thin, delicate strips of silver. Its front is painted, or dyed, more likely, with the image of a pale man in red-trimmed black robes. His thin face is obscured by a scarf and hood. Around his neck are draped thick, gray chains that fall almost to the floor. With one hand he holds a file filled with papers very much like the one Fredo had just reassembled; he points out of the frame, at Fredo, with the other. Set apart from the rest of the image is a shield charged with an open book. "The Inquisitor" is printed in spidery, white letters at the bottom of the card.
Intrigued and disturbed that his papers have been tampered with, Fredo flips the card over. On the back is printed, in a firm hand a message that causes him to gasp, recoil, and drop the card again. He can hear the silver clink against his apartment's wood floor. Breathing hard, he interrogates himself as he would a new client. "Okay, Fredo," he says, "Who do you know that knows what happened to Aleko? There's mom and the sisters, but if they wanted to visit they would have written and the place wouldn't look like this. There's the guards, but if they wanted to talk they could meet you at the courthouse. I suppose anyone might remember an old scandal like this, but why wait 'til now to contact me? And how would someone just slip something into my papers without my knowing about it. An old file I'd understand, but this one's with me all day. Maybe the imp?" The more he thinks about it, the more Fredo sells himself on that idea, though the prospect of one of the little devils interesting themselves in his case is not exactly comforting. Still, if he can find out what it knows it will be a comfort to his mother. He sighs again. He's not prepared to bargain with devils today, after everything else.
"Come on, Cat," he says, and she jumps onto his back and drapes herself over his shoulders. "We're going to Lancet Street." He leaves the wig and file behind.
Fredo takes care not to arrive on time. If he is dealing with an imp, better to let it know that he feels he can keep it waiting than to cater to its sense of self-importance. If it's a mortal, well, he can apologize. It seems, however, that he was not the only one invited. As he turns into Lancet Street, he sees a boot heel disappearing into a building whose windows are dark but from which light spills onto the street through the door. By the time Fredo gets there, the door is shut, but he can hear the sounds of low speech, muffled and blurred into incomprehensibility by the walls. Quickly, he slips in the door, shutting it quietly behind him.
There is a strong mystical feel to the room. Fredo wrinkles his nose at the smell of incense, and gives Cat a hard look, warning her not to worry the tapestries. Four figures, three men and a woman, sit around a broad, finely varnished, circular table. Across from the door stands another woman, wearing the shawls, jewelry, and headscarf of a Varisian seer. As she talks to the assembled people at what can only be her table, Fredo is struck by the tragedy of her story. In magnitude it is, perhaps, no different than ten thousand others, but if reading cases has taught Fredo anything, it's that all circumstances are unique and personal. It's not Zellara's tragedy that really strikes Fredo like a blow, however, but her description of Lamm's hiding place. He lets the seated woman, Akiki, interrogate Zellara while formulating his own question.
"This fishery," he says grimly, stepping away from the door and throwing his card down on the table to prove he was invited, "is it being held in escrow because its owner died, childless, in a fight with a devilfish?"
Also, now's probably a good time to let you know that Aleko wasn't framed. He really did want to bomb Carowyn Manor. The way I imagine things, he was earnestly idealistic in wanting to stick it to some decadent nobles, and used Lamm to get the supplies he and his friends would need. It was just bad luck that the bombs detonated when they did. Aleko's "friends" were, unknown to Aleko (and of course Fredo doesn't know about any of this, though he may discover it in the course of the campaign), actually in the pay of the Arkonas, who were looking to bump off some of their rivals while blaming it on anarchist rabble, but he didn't know that. It was his Arkona-backed friends that tried to frame Fredo too, in the hopes that the Guard would tie up a loose end they couldn't touch while Fredo was secure in the Academae.
This probably betrays the extent of my knowledge about the adventure path, gleaned from having tried to GM it, but don't worry. I won't be spoiling anything.
|The Harrow GM|
Fredo, is your familiar actually called Cat? That's amusing.
As Giulianoff walks in the door, the Varisian woman turns and smiles warmly. "Ah, a late arrival. I was beginning to fear that you were too paranoid to show up. I'm glad you did. Need I repeat anything?"
Addressing Raijinn, she looks to him with a knowing gaze and a slight shrug. "Start? Start whenever it pleases you. I am here to provide you with the information you need, as I cannot strike at Lamm directly. From there, it's for you where to proceed, and for me to hope for your success."
Zellara turns back to Giulianoff to say "Oh, and the fishery...Yes, that's right. How did you know?"
Yes, she is. Folks can feel free to ask why if it ever comes up in character.
"I know," says Fredo, not bothering to take a seat if the others are already raring to go, "because some time ago a boy came into my office looking to establish that the late owner was his father and that ownership should fall to him. He had no case. He'd never met the man, and his mother...wasn't available to testify. I told him not to waste his money on lawyers, gave him what I could spare, and he left. In other words," he says, frowning and balling his hands up into fists, "I know because someone has a really sick sense of humor.
"You don't need to repeat anything for me, Zellara," says Fredo, signalling that he had arrived early enough to hear her name and everything she had said subsequently. "Thanks to my young acquaintance we won't even need detailed directions to the fishery. I do, however, have a request for my comrades-to-be to consider." Fredo looks at the four people between him and Zellara. Cat stretches, her back cracking noisily. "I don't know what anyone but you," he says, nodding at the woman, who he notices has the lean stature, angular features, and leaf-shaped ears of an elf, "wants from Lamm. But he tried to frame me for murder, and killed my brother to do it. Whatever happens to Lamm, I need him to tell me why before it does." Fredo's tone makes it clear that he expects the others to agree, despite having called it a request.
So absorbed in the descriptions of Lamm's activities, Nostrum failed to notice the new occupant of the room until he spoke.
"You make a fair point sir. Whilst I personally look forward to "reacquainting" myself to Gaedren, I know very little of what you all seek from him. We may be able to aid one another, but only if our goals really do match. And does not the holy scriptures say 'destruction matures in disunity, but it is the sharpened blade that tears the flesh first'?" Nostrum's voice takes on a slightly melodic tone as he recites what is clearly well studied words. He looks expectantly to those around him, sure that his words will prove encouraging.
|The Harrow GM|
Zellara is similarly taken aback by Nostrum's strange quotation, but she re-gathers her composure as she replaces an incense stick that had turned to ash.
The smell of fiery leaves wafts through the room, and Zellara comments, "Ah..yes. Nostrum has a point. Silly of me to expect you to instantly trust each other to work with one another on this. I believe that introductions are in order, don't you?"
"Does it?" asks Fredo amiably, not terribly troubled at the content of the words. Like all mysticism, they obscure more than they illuminate. "I'm afraid I don't remember. I haven't read any scripture since...for years." It had been more than six years, actually, since Fredo had walked into a temple or cracked the spine of a holy book. That holy book, and that church, had been in Sirathu, at his father's funeral. But even though they were making introductions, the others didn't need to know that quite yet.
Fredo fixates more on the not-so-singsong words that come out of the scriptural man's mouth. There are a lot of them, and like the quotation, they say very little. "It would seem an opportune time to share your own goals as specifically and non-euphamistically as you can, comrade," he says coaxingly, "since you agree in principle that we each should. 'Comrade' is also horribly unspecific," he says, as though he is just realizing this. "Names are better. Please call me Fredo." Cat rears up and claws at Fredo's leg. "This is Cat," he says, reaching down to pick her up. She nestles into his arms.
"Raijinn". The tiefling's realised that he was speaking so little that it caught them off-guard when he did. He decided that he would have to force himself to open up more to earn their trust. He wanted to kill Gaedren himself, but Raijinn wasn't stupid, and he knew that having others with him would help change it from a dream into a reality.
He continued, "I spent years enslaved by Gaedren, until he no longer had a use for me. I suppose that I don't have to tell any of you how twisted and sadistic he is. It is likely that we will carry the scars he has inflicted on us for the rest of our lives, but if we move swiftly, we may yet be able to save the Elf's sister."
|The Harrow GM|
It's like a little Gaedren support group. "Hi, I'm Raijinn, and I'm a Gaedroholic."
The assembly explains themselves to each other, and to the new arrival, and there seems to be a silent, synchronous nod of approval. Each person here recognizes the others as kin of a sort, and realizes that they can gain from each other perhaps what they had lost from their link in common.
Still, though, nervous eyes flit around the room. Trust is hard to come by in individuals as scarred as these are.
Zellara speaks up. "I am glad that you all are coming to an accord of sorts. Unfortunately, I must say that I grow tired, and will retire soon. Do you all have someplace to stay or go tonight?"
"Well yes," says Fredo, still digesting the others' goals. Raijin and Nostrum seem to want to keep their goals to themselves, which means they're either goalless or ashamed of what their goals are. Still, rescuing Semelle is a goal worthy enough for them all to share. "We have a fishery to visit, as quickly as possible." He says this like it's the most obvious thing in the world, and moves back to the door.
"Or did you mean a place to sleep?" he says. "Anybody who wants can stay with me tonight, though it'll be cramped."
|The Harrow GM|
"If he had no Lambs," says Fredo, while Cat claws at the doorjamb, "he could perhaps rest easy for another night. But he does keep children captive, and we cannot permit that to continue for any length of time." Fredo looks grim. His thoughts are years in the past, his father guiding Aleko and him through decades-old revolutionary and conservative pamphlets, quizzing them on what made the arguments work. Fredo wonders what Eilso would think of his being a self-styled liberator of child slaves. Maybe he'd be proud.
"That being the case, unless there is some compelling reason to stay a while, we should be going."
|The Harrow GM|
Zellara bids the quintet farewell as they shoulder on their belongings and head out the Varisian's door. Armed with new knowledge of the man they sought together, they glanced up and down the avenue before setting off towards Old Korvosa.
The group seemed to have come to a consensus: Gaedren Lamm would die that night.
Instinctively checking their weapons as they walk together, Akiki, Nostrum, Fredo, Raijinn, and Thaven march.
After about an hour of walking, Goffred leads the group to the fishery. As he explains, the previous owner died in a devilfish attack on his boat. Since he was childless, the fishery was held in escrow by the city.
This building is squat, and obviously very aged and not well-maintained. Apparently Gaedren doesn't care much for repair. The reek of brine and week-dead fish hangs in the air here, and the old double doors are tightly closed. No light issues from the shuttered windows, and the sign that once hung in front of the fishery is long gone, and in its place stands a chain, waving in the wind while hanging from a pole.
This is the home of the man you seek.
Knowledge (Local): 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (18) + 8 = 26
"There should be a service entrance fishmongers use to dump their end-of-day refuse," says Fredo, who seems eager to take charge. "The Lambs would take it inside and make slurry from it. We can enter the same way. Might be a good way to meet them before we meet their masters," he adds, with a meaningful look at Akiki. If Gaedren or whatever thugs he has working for him recognizes her, they might take Semelle hostage to use as a shield. He wants to avoid that.
|The Harrow GM|
There are three apparent ways into the fishery.
One, to the left, a wooden deck, slick with water and rancid with fish parts, stands next to a closed double screen door. (This appears to be the "service entrance" that Fredo mentioned).
Two, the front entrance. Double wooden doors.
Three, a wooden walkway that extends along the right side of the house. You can see it from the front until it turns around to the back face of the house.
Akiki is in full stealth mode as they approach the house. She's tucked herself in her cloak and her knives are hidden but close at hand.
She tilts her head towards the back door, pointing at herself, and the walkway that leads around back. She's certainly not going in the front. Every rogue impulse screams against it.
Earlier, whilst in introducing themselve
Nostrum appears startled when Fredo mentions introductions. "I apologize for my rudeness! I thought I had already made myself known, but my memory often fails me: a gift from Gaedren." Turning to Raijin, "My name is Nostrum, and I too was enslaved by Lamm for several years. Drugged, beaten and worse... that man deserves swift judgement, before any more innocents face a similar fate".
At the present moment
Nostrum nods at Fredo, happy to follow his lead. He appears ready to make for the door when he suddenly pauses.
"Wouldn't it seem out of place for a group as mixed as ourselves to enter through the service entrance? I mean no offence, but Raijinn is far from inconspicuous and Gaedren would surely put his most faithful lambs where the public will interact with them." Nostrum appears to be struggling with memories that are only half-forming in his mind.
Turning back to Fredo, he suggests that "Perhaps it would be better if someone entered under the guise of selling fish? Or we could have someone sneak in another entrance, if they could stay out of site. I'm not sure what is the best option."
"We don't know where that walkway leads," says Fredo, dropping his voice in response to Akiki's apparent need for quiet. "And according to Akiki the main entrance is off limits. That leaves one option. We should stay together anyway. As for bluffing our way in," he rolls up his sleeves and takes a step toward the service entrance, "you said yourself that Raijin and I will never pass for anything but what we are. It's long past business hours, even for these people. Besides, there is no point in subterfuge once we're past the door. We are the Lambs' liberators and avenging furies to the rest." His declaration denies categorically that he believes any of the Lambs might owe any actual loyalty to Gaedren. The prospect is, to him, absurd, especially given the attitudes of the former Lambs here.
He lets Cat get in front of him, leading him on silent pads over the bits of docking least likely to creak til he comes to the door. He examines the door itself, looking to see whether it is locked. Of course, Fredo has little experience with this side of burglary, so he can't tell a locked door from an open one without trying it.
Perception: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (4) + 3 = 7
Stealth: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (14) + 6 = 20
|The Harrow GM|
Yes, please everyone roll stealth to remain quiet if you approach the house.
Fredo creeps to the service entrance on the deck, as silently as Cat, who precedes him.
As a response to Fredo's whisper and Nostrum's suggestions, Akiki pauses on her way to the wooden walkway to look back.
Fredo, you can't tell by looking whether or not the door is locked, but common sense would tell you that at this time of night, most people would lock their doors. Criminals, especially, are suspicious of crime.
Akiki rolls her eyes and sighs. You'll never know what's there until you look! But he also looks like he doesn't know how to break into the building ... he doesn't look much like a thief.
She shakes her head a bit and creeps back towards him, and the door, making a 'shush' gesture at Nostrum and the others that came with them.
Sneakeh Sneakeh: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (14) + 6 = 20
She is quite sneaky.
She examines the lock as well.
Can I manage this lock?: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (17) + 7 = 24