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Mirela peeks out the windows of the Sailors Delight but realizes it's not time for her to head out yet so she returns to talking with her mom.
Gods above, I've missed this city....
Sitting in the small but well stocked library - workroom of his parents house, Atticus reviews his notes.
In the cheap flophouse he had rented for the next few days, Devan idly plucked a simple melody on the well-polished lute of his mother, his dark eyes focused on the far wall, though his mind swam with memories. Memories of those he loved, memories of those that had been taken from him by circumstance and fate. The musician's eyes flicked to the weapons lying nearby, weapons just purchased. The weapons of a dead man, likely. His eyes closed as he breathed deeply, the familiarity of the instrument in his hands bringing what comfort it could. So be it.
Aleira sits at the window of her small rented room looking down at the busy street below, watching early morning activities of the city. Cat, meanwhile, savagely attacks a crude child's doll beneath Aleira's simple cot. Once he has it suitably subdued he lifts the tattered toy in his mouth, leaps onto Aleira's lap and drops it with obvious pride at a successful kill.
Twilight awoke as the rising sun brightened the spartan room. She sat up and yawned, stretching and rubbing the sleep from her eyes. The revelries celebrating her acceptance into the priesthood had gone on late into the evening, but despite the late night she felt energized. The goal that she had sought for so long was finally at hand. Last night she had celebrated the Unquenchable Flame and today she would pay homage to the Savoured Sting.
As she got up, a sudden though crossed her mind. Everything I've accomplished was driven by Wynnin's death. Where would I be now if he was still alive?
Nargun
The pain was always there, but a stiff belt of ale helped, at least for a little while. Nargun had been in Korvosa only a short time and still hadn't found a decent dwarvish brew, so he sat in the Three Rings Tavern in North Point, where at least the ale wasn't too weak or watered down.
Every time his thoughts turnred to Lamm and the ring, his temper started to rise, and the world turned red. He sat here, all alone, trying not to think about it, but as always, trying not to think about a thing, only made you think about it more. He could feel his face reddening, and the beat of his pulse in his temple and knew it might soon spiral out of control.
Instead of raging, the dwarven smith raised his earthenware tankard and drained it all in one drink, the dregs running down his beard which he wiped away distractedly with the back of his hand, slamming the tankard on the table and shouting "MORE". At least the service was decent in this place, even if the ale was only passable.
The skinny, non-bearded, olive-skinned Varisian serving girl deftly slid a new tankard in place of his old, skipping away from the red-faced dwarf as quick as she could, but not before slipping a few coins from the pile on the table.
Grumbling, Nargun reached for the new tankard, saying a quick prayer to Cayden to relieve his pain, when his hand touched something odd. Looking down, he saw a small card stuck to the bottom of his mug.
Taking a closer look, the widower saw a stylized sphinx. Flipping it over, he saw a message written there..
Mirela
A bit stir-crazy as she sat in the tight quarters of the Sailor's Delight, Mirela was conflicted. On the one hand, she loved the vibrancy and kinetic activity of the city. The smells, the sounds, and basic hubbub reminded her of her youth. At the same time, she missed the pastoral beauty of the woods, where she learned the worship of Old Deadeye, and his gifts to the simple folk -- the serenity of open spaces, the music of the birds and beasts, the sound of the wind waving through a field of ripened wheat.
She shook away those feelings, knowing there was work to do. It would be too easy to sit in this cramped but comfortable room, eating the food of her "aunties" and gossiping like school girls for many days. But she was driven. Driven to find Lamm and to put a stop to his malignant abuse of small children. Abuse she knew about from personal experience.
Her memory took her back to places she never wanted to think about again and she trembled with the remembrance. She was lifted from her unfortunate reverie by the sound of something sliding under the door.
Her aunties would just barge right in if they wanted her, and no one else knew she was here. Curious, she rose from the straw mattress and strode over to the door, flipping a curl of red-gold hair from her face. Bending, she saw a small slip of paper lying there. Grabbing it she saw it was a playing card of some kind, a card with a cricket playing a hand organ.
"That's odd," she said aloud. Flipping the card over, she saw something scrawled there in a thin wandering hand
Atticus
He raised the snifter of brandy to his lips, savoring the flavor, true, but savoring the tingling feeling in his limbs, and the dullness it made in his head even more. The scholarly man was working on a new project and stalked his library like a caged tiger, pacing back and forth reading the titles looking for the right text.
"Damn, where is it?" he shouted to no one there. He found himself more and more irritable since the incident. He should be in his employers lab, working on this project where extracts and ingredients were readily available, but since that day, he felt unwelcome there, for good reason. So, instead, he was in his garret apartment above his parents small home, where he knew he wouldn't have exactly what he was looking for, frustrated and getting more drunk with each step. "It's all Lamm's fault," Atticus thought anger flaring. He hurled his glass against the wall shattering it in an explosion of tiny slivers. "Why did he have to take Nicodemus? Why?".
For the thousandth time, he cursed the man, dreaming of his own vengeance on the crimelord. He snatched a dusty tome off the shelf, knowing that it wouldn't have what he wanted. He flipped to an ink-stained page, and was startled by what he saw there.
A playing card. But not a familiar one, instead this one had a picture of a threatening man holding a book.
Turning the card over, he saw a message scrawled there which sobered him up immediately. Puzzled about how the card got in his old text book, Atticus anger turned to determination.
Devan
The bard tried to lose himself in the music, as he had done a thousand times before. Many times, he could soothe himself and momentarily forget the raw grief and pain of his losses. But this time, it wasn't working. In addition to the pain, he felt another overwhelming feeling -- hate. The hate of the man who made him feel this way - Gaedren Lamm.
As Devan thought about Lamm, he eyes again flicked involuntarily to the weapons he had purchased. He had bought them as the tools of his vengeance, and as he thought about that, the melody stumbled and is usually deft fingers forgot their mission and misplayed.
Cursing, he set aside the lute lovingly despite his frustration. He stalked over to the weapons, and grabbed the rapier, drawing it from the scabbard in a quick motion. As he did so, something fluttered from the sheath, floating towards the floor.
Curious, Devan grabbed the small paper before it landed, and saw it was a harrow card. He had seen them in his younger days with his mother's family, but never held one before. This card had the picture of two men facing each other. Scrawled on the back of this strange card was a message in a thin hand.
Devan dropped the rapier with a clatter as he read the note, wondering at how it ended up in his rapier sheath.
Aleira
The young girl stood at the open window of her small tent shelter in the Shingles. Cat romped on the floor, and then jumped to the window ledge, mewing insolently.
As Aleira reached for her, the kitten jumped out the window to the rooftop below, skittering away at something unseen. "Careful," the lonely girl called after her pet. "Don't let one of those chokers get you, little one..."
She peered out the window, looking for her only friend, but all she saw was a pair of junkies propped against her corner, eyes lolling back in their heads, bodies convulsing in the small jerks and twists that were the tell-tale sign of shiver. The sight made Aleria draw in her breath in alarm. She thought back to her mother, Nivennia, and her addiction to the scourge. She balled her small fists thinking of the way her mother had sold her to her dealer for just one more hit. How could she do that?
Exhaling in a rush, the witch absently traced the scars on her face when she thought of what had happened after her sale to Lamm. The terrible nights, the cruel hands, and finally the brutal beating that left her for dead.
Suddenly, Cat returned, landing on the windowsill with a soft thump, startling her mistress. Reaching for her familiar, Aleria sees something in the small feline mouth. "Where did you get this, little one?" she says softly taking the paper.
It turns out to be a card. A card with a lounging giant on it and something scrawled on the back in a spidery hand. Turning the card over to read it, the message stuns the girl
Twilight
Twilight walked briskly down the dank streets of the city, her hood pulled over her eyes which scanned the streets for trouble. Ahead of her was the temple of the Unquenchable Fire, which sat in the basement of a house of special courtesans in the well-heeled Cliffside neighborhood of The Heights.
After spending the last night completing her induction to the priestess-hood, she was back to pay her own oblations to Calistria in private reflection.
Stepping in the back door, she smelled the sweet incense of the temple and heard the carnal noises emanating from upstairs, where the sisters "ministered" to the faithful. Smiling sinisterly at the sound, Twilight bounded down the stairs to the sanctuary, which was thankfully deserted.
Kneeling at the small altar, she lit a candle and bowed her head to pray. After the revelations of the previous day, her prayers were of vengeance. Vengeance against the crime boss Gaedren Lamm who had robbed her life of its only chance at happiness. The murder of her lover caused her early departure from the Acadamae, and ultimately drew her into the arms of the Savored Sting. She knew Calistria would understand her prayers, and she spent many moments in quiet contemplation of how she would exact her long-kindled revenge.
When her prayers were complete, she rose, and to her surprise, saw a small playing card lying on the altar. She was sure it wasn't there before, and no one had entered during her meditations. She looked at the card and saw the image of a man pouring drinks.
There seemed to be something written on the back of the card, Twilight saw with surprise. What she saw written there took her breath away...
Looking at the card confused for a moment or two, Atticus slowly reflected on the possibilities. I need allies, and fast. It is worth a try.. Putting the sniffer down and placing the card in his breast pocket after looking at the man on the cover Is that me? he rose and moved up to his room and opened the cupboard and slowly changed into his most durable clothes, then taking the attorneys overcoat from the reinforced hanger.
It was stiffeling, but it commanded respect. And the hidden plates, one never knew who would try to hurt a member of the court, would offer protection. Making sure his alchemy kit was safely on his outer belt he finally picked his "special" walking cane and bound back his hair using his sling, a trick he learned from his aunt. A little pouch of bullets in a pocket complemented his attire.
With confident strides he moved towards the shop of this fortune teller ready for the next step of the investigation.
Aleira frowned at the card and turned it over, her eyes widening as she read the message.
"Where's you get this?" she addressed the Cat, not really expecting an answer and standing up from her seat on the floor and gathering a few items from their places. "Seems like that fortune teller has something against Lamm too. What do you think? Should we go to this meeting?" She glances down at the Cat, which stares at her with its head slightly cocked.
"OK then. We'd best be prepared though. she replied, quickly finishing her preparations.
Several minutes later Aleira emerged down on the street, her scarred face hidden by a long hooded brown cloak, well-made but worn. Glancing down the alleyway at the two junkies she frowned but turned away without offering help - aware more than most that any aid she might offer would likely not go towards food or a place to sleep, but merely to more of the poison they fed themselves. Aleira made her way through the streets slowly, taking a circuitous route that avoided the Little Lamms' usual stalking grounds. As she walked, Cat perched seemingly comfortably on her shoulder, she thought back to her time with Gaedrin, absently fingering one of the knives hidden beneath her cloak.
Nargun slams his palm on his table
Esme! Come here,please, I have a question.
The strange dwarf may look as a demented killer, but he treats the staff of the taverns with respect, and can be counted upon if things becomes roughs or if a Customer takes too much liberties with the waitresses.
So Esme, the Varisian waitress, has no fear to come back.
Nargun shows her the card, and gently asks
Did you put that here on my table, Esme? I saw Nothing. And if not, do you know where this street is? I think I got a general idea, but I'm not quite sure.
Esme looks at the card, and answers quickly
I know that girl, she's one of us. A fortune teller. Lancet street? I can give you some directions, if you need.
Esme gives the informations, and Nargun starts his journey
The address you were sent to, 3 Lancet Street, turns out to be a rather modest home set in the West Dock neighborhood of Midland, in the central part of Korvosa, just a few blocks from the flowing waters of the Jeggare River. West Dock is a rugged neighborhood made up of mostly run-down warehouses or food processing buildings.
The home is well-kept, a bit out of place considering the surroundings, and is located in the middle of residential block where the rest of the homes are less neat or tidy. A small bloom of flowers grows colorfully from a box on the porch, where surprisingly, you find the door open.
Stepping inside, you find the interior of the humble home consists of a single cozy chamber filled with the fragrant haze of flowers and strong spice. The aroma comes from several sticks of incense smouldering in wall-mounted burners that look like butterfly-winged elves. The smoke gives the room a dreamy feel. The walls are draped with brocaded tapestries, one showing a black-skulled beast juggling human hearts, 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, holding a flaming sword in a skeletal hand. Several brightly colored rugs cover the floor, but the room's only furnishings are a wooden table, covered by a bright red throw cloth and several elegant, tall-backed leather chairs. A basket covered by a blue cloth sits under the table.
A simple note on the table reads:"Thank you for coming. I had to step out for a bit, but shall return shortly. Please, have a seat while you wait. The basket under the table contains bread and drink for you."
Mirela picks up the card and looks at it confused for a moment then as soon as she flips it over a smile crosses her face:
Even here, Erastil gives gifts to the hunter 'e favors. Thank you! I shall not fail you!
Leaving most of her camping supplies behind (Pot, soap, and all but one meal and one Torch) Mirela heads out to to this strange meeting.
When she gets to the the house, Mirela glances around then slips in through the front door. Seeing the others there before her Mirela directly asks as soon as she walks through the door:
Which 'on of you sent me the card?
Looking up you see a strange looking young woman stairing at the others boldly from just inside the door. She has sun bleached red-gold hair, rough hand made armor, a bright young face, large dark eyes and callused hands like the young farm wives who come into the city to sell their crop. But the lovingly cared for bow on her back has signs of much use and indicates she is no wilting daisy who stays quietly at home.
The young bard stood there, stunned, as he reread the mysterious note that had made its way into his possessions. He had heard of Madame Zellara, but had dismissed her as just another harrow fraud. His mind wandered back through the years, to when his desperate mother would take coppers she couldn't spare to the local readers in the area. Devan would accompany her, and get excited along with Corina as she was repeatedly promised a reversal of her fortunes, according to the cards. Devan had stopped going after a while, the pain of watching the emotional roller coaster his mother went through tearing at him.
A new thought occurred to him, then. In his grief he could be going mad. He had heard of men who had endured hardship after hardship and then finally cracked under the pressure. Perhaps his sanity had snapped as quickly as he had snapped the rapier from its sheath, as he channeled his grief into revenge and hate. The musician covered his face with his hand, bowing his head as he closed his dark eyes. After a brief pause he opened them. The card still beckoned him, the two men on his card smiling knowingly at the bard.
He shrugged his thin shoulders, putting the card into his pocket before gathering his things. As he opened the door, a ray of hope shone through that had been missing for weeks. A possible way forward that didn't result in death. For if he died, Corina and Joline died with him. With a determined gait, Devan made his way to 3 Lancet Street to see what fate had in store for him.
A stout dwarf, with tatooed muscled arms,dirty clothes and an unkept beard stays near the door, his right hand on the handle of a massive axe
Who are you? Heard a Varisian fortune teller was livin" here, and you don't look the part.
He eyes the girl suspiciously
I got a card myself, if you wanna know.
Twilight reads the message on the back of the card with curiosity. As she gets to the end Twilight gives a little involuntary laugh. Justice? Oh, Lamm missed his opportunity at justice a long time ago, when the the Korvosan guard gave up the case and her family refused to help find Wynnin's killer. No, his punishment would be much more personalized that whatever was found in some musty tomes of law.
Twilight knelt again at the altar offering prayers of gratitude for this opportunity. Zellara seemed to know where Lamm was and just as importantly was gathering together a group of people who had been wronged by him. Twilight had planned to simply going to hire some thugs but having people with similar motivations would make them much more reliable and dedicated.
As Twilight stood and headed back up the stairs to gather her supplies and find this fortune teller she felt her heart racing with excitement. Soon satisfaction would be her's and the greatest thanks she could offer Calistria for this gift was to have Lamm broken and pleading before her.
As she headed back to her lodgings Twilight idly wondered if the picture of the man pouring drinks had any significance.
Devan arrived at the home on Lancet Street quickly, his eagerness increasing his stride to the point of almost being a jog. Ever having an eye for detail, the young man notices the out-of-place appearance of the tidy little home as yet another sign that something, good or bad, would come of this. He quickly walked to the door, inhaling sharply, then pushed it open.
He stood at the door for a few moments, his dark orbs drinking in surroundings that were all-too-familiar. His clothing was dark underneath the stiff leather he had bought to offer what protection it could. It helped to mask how painfully thin he had become after weeks of eating barely enough to survive. His eyes had dark valleys underneath them, as if he hadn't slept well in quite some time. The scabbards of the rapier and dagger he wore on his left hip looked completely new, but the lute he carried on his right hip had the well-worn look of a family heirloom.
After a quick look at the tapestries, he noticed the others who had already arrived. Not wanting to look strange, he went ahead and stepped in, closing the door behind himself. Noticing the paper on the table, he paced forward, reading it quickly. Taking note of the basket, his belly rumbled, breaking his reverie. He chuckled quietly to himself, nodding acquiescence as he grabbed the basket and put it on the table, lifting the cover off. The bard reached inside, pulling out a chunk or piece of bread as he sat at one of the chairs, taking a bite as he looked at the others already there, indicating the basket with an extended hand, an invitation for those who had a wariness of going first.
As he devoured the plain meal, another person came in, a strange young woman. It seemed fitting...as far as he could tell, there wasn't a 'normal' looking person in the room, and this newcomer hadn't changed the status quo. As the gruff dwarf responded with equal bluntness to the young woman's straightforward question, Devan rose up from his seat, smiling at the others as he spoke. His voice didn't match his appearance, his speech was rich with lilts and annunciations at just the right times.
It appears as though our host hasn't joined us yet, according to the note. She was kind enough to leave us refreshments, though. Devan rolled his eyes, though his tone indicated more amusement than anything else.
The youth reached into his pocket, pulling out a card with two men facing each other on the front.
It seems that harrow cards are the new craze in mystery notes. I know we Varisians have a flair for the dramatic, but this is over the top, possibly. Well, while we wait, we could figure out what brings us all here. I imagine there's a story behind each of these cards. Or I could play us a little tune?
Devan kept his focus on the people, pointedly ignoring the decorations. This place reminded him of those harrowers his mother had visited in his childhood, a memory he wished to avoid at this moment.
Refreshments? What kind of refreshments?
The dwarf licks his lips nervously, his attention still focused on the woman, but the grip on the axe seems less firm
Stopping in front of a building three houses south Atticus stood waiting for a moment or two, calmly observing the area. Turning his back to the street, he took an extract from his inner pocket, shaked it once twice and quickly gulped it down. For one heartbeat nothing happened, but then his pupils got large for a second before returning to their normal size.
Slowly and now prepared he moved to the truthsayers home, used his cane to knock once and entered.
Suprised to see a dwarf, a woman and another man standing already in the middle of the room clearly waiting for someone, he stopped to scan the room, but then with a light bow introduced himself.
"My name is Atticus Flavius. Am I to assume this is a gathering not a personal invitation."
But then the next guest arrived, another woman, with a beautiful bow on her back, demanding to know who sent the cards.
"Goodwive, I do not know. I am a guest as you are!"
A scarred woman, a strung out musician, a gentleman and a street thug. Interesting, I expected more younger... Wait did he say a Varisian fortune teller?
Mirela's body relaxes a little.
Well 'ell! A fortune teller! So that's how they knowed where I was!
She watches the dwarf with caution, as one would a bull when entering his pasture, as she replies: My name is Mirela, and I'm newly arrived in The City. And you be? Her eyes quickly scan over the musician, gentleman and woman before snapping back to the dwarf.
In response to Nargun's question, Devan lazily motioned to the basket on the table, cocking his head slightly as the dwarf and the second woman eyed one another warily. After a moment's thought, he nodded inwardly...out of any of the folks gathered so far, they looked the most martial and wild of the bunch. Perhaps this was the norm for such people.
In response to Atticus's question, the bard turned his attention to the well-dressed man. "It would appear so, though our hostess has not arrived as of yet. She was thoughtful enough to leave a note, though, and some food to pass the time with."
The young man snorted slightly at the redhead's comment about fortune tellers, but said nothing as she finished her introduction. Following her lead, he meets the eyes of those gathered.
"Devan Covarie, local musician. A pleasure to meet you, Atticus, Mirela." He nods at the two who had already introduced themselves, then looked pointedly at the dwarf and the scarred woman, smiling invitingly to both encourage an introduction and break the tension between the dwarf and the...barbarian, maybe?
Indeed in the basket under the table is some bread, perhaps a bit stale, and some wine, not fine, but tastes good enough.
Aleira made her way towards the small home nestled amongst the industrial buildings of the area and cautiously approached the door which she, noted with surprise, was already open. Peering inside, she saw that the room was already occupied by a somewhat surly looking dwarf to whom she offered a nervous greeting.
"Ummm,.. Hello? I'm here to see, um, the fortune-teller who lives here I think. I got a note?" At his reply she nodded and made her way to the table where she read the note to herself and then took a seat, taking the cat from her shoulder and setting it down on the table where it began to curiously sniff at the note before moving to the table's corner and jumping to the ground, where it began to explore the room. Aleira pulled back her hood, revealing a face that would have been pretty were it not for the scars which mark her soft features.
I suppose an introduction then? I'm Aleira. Do you know what this is about or if anyone else is coming?"
As the others come in Aleira offers a nervous greeting but sits mostly silently, waiting to see what this is all about.
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After finally finding the house despite conflicting directions from some of the locals, Twilight stood in the entrance pausing just long enough to take stock of the people in attendance while also allowing the the doorway to naturally frame and draw attention to her.
The black kohl highlights around her eyes contrasted with her straight, shoulder length blond hair. She wore a travelers outfit that fit tightly while still being practical and a cloak trimmed in yellow. A dagger at her hip was the only weapon she bore though a keen observer would note that the black and yellow belt around her waist was actually a whip.
Twilight addressed the room "Hi, my name is Twilight. I apologize if I am late, I'm here to see Madam Zellara about a harrow reading." She holds up a harrow card depicting a man pouring drinks.
There was a musician who would have been handsome had he not looked like he had neither ate nor slept for a week. The muscular dwarf looked scruffy and unkempt, even by dwarven standards. The dwarf traded suspicious stares with a red haired woman who looked like she would be more at home in a forest than in the city. There seemed to be tension between the two. A small cat explored beneath another woman's chair, though she had fine features her face bore the marks of a harsh life.
But one individual among all the others stood out to Twilight. As she took her seat Twilight smiled and gave a nod to Atticus "Professor, its a pleasure to meet you. I wasn't expecting to meet such a prestigious man at a gathering such as this."
A Professor... and she knows him so she could be a student. But she wears the yellow and black of The Lady in the Room. Ahh more likely he is a client in her house.
Still watching the Dwarf in her peripheral vision, Mirela's gaze focuses on the cat. With a smile she walks near it and holds her hand out to it.
'Ello there little thing? Do you belong to the mistress of the 'ouse? If it comes near when she talks to it, she tries to pet it.
Just then, the door opens and an attractive middle-aged Varisian woman with long dark hair enters. "Welcome, my friends, to my humble home. Thanks you for coming to visit me." She takes a seat at the table, and nods to the group of you, motioning that you all take seats as well.
"I am Zellara Esmeranda. Please introduce yourselves to me." As she speaks, she withdraws a deck of cards from her pocket and idly shuffles the cards while listening intently. The cards seem to float and dance through her fingers, and her skill with the deck is supremely obvious.
If you choose to sit, there are, conveniently, the exact right number of chairs for the party. Once you are all seated and introductions are made, she speaks in a soft but clear voice.
"Thank you, my friends for putting up with my unconventional method of contacting you. I have reason to remain hidden, you see -- a vicious man would see great harm done to me if he knew I was reaching out for help. This man has done something terrible to each of you as well. I speak, of course, of Gaedren Lamm, a man whose cruelty and capacity to destroy the lives of those he touches are matched only by his gift for avoiding reprisal. You see, a year ago, his thieves stole this, my harrow deck, from me. It is important to me, an heirloom passed down through a dozen generations, and also my sole means of support. When Lamm's pickpockets stole it, my son Eran tracked them down and returned my deck to me. But Gaedren had him followed, and soon after he left my home, Gaedren's thugs murdered him."
"I sought help form the Korvosan Guard, but they turned me away. And so I asked around. I paid bribes. I consulted my harrow deck for advice. And recently, I was rewarded -- I found out where Gaedren dwells. He can be found in an old fishery north of here, at Westpier 17, where he trains abducted children to be pickpockets and counts his stolen treasures."
"But I need your help. I cannot hope to face this man on my own, and the Guard moves so slowly that if they were willing to help, Gaedren would certainly know of their coming well in advance. And even if they arrested him, what guarantee would I have he would be punished? This criminal has evaded the law for decades. But you know of these frustrations as well, word on the street has it that Gaedren has wronged each of you, too. So there we are. It is time for him to pay."
"He's mine." Aleria says in reply to Mirela's query, smiling as Cat edged forward and sniffed at the other woman's hand. "I think he likes you, and he's generally a pretty good judge of people..."
She breaks off as Zellara enters and galling around at the others, speaks up. "Well, I'm Aleira and the cat, well he's just called Cat."
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Devan's brow arched at the fortune-teller's dramatic appearance. Being a showman himself, he understood the value of such things. Still, the whole scenario reeked of a fraud, so his voice came out flat as he replied after the scarred woman, "Devan Covarie, of Korvosa."
The bard sat in his chair, lounging with his legs crossed, as the Varisian harrower told her story. The mention of the stolen heirloom got his attention, his fingers subconsciously brushing across the sleek wood of his lute as he continued listening. By the time she told of her dead son, he was sitting upright. As she offered the knowledge of Lamm's location, his haunted eyes were ablaze, his fists cocked at his sides.
Devan wondered if one of those children had counted his love's ring amongst the old man's treasures, or if he had seen to it personally. As Zellara finishes her tale, the musician nods in understanding. Having lived in the poorer parts of Korvosa all his life, he knew how the law worked in such places.
Devan bowed his head at the end of her speech, his voice thick with emotion. "This man has taken everything I loved away from me. Just this evening I had resolved to kill Lamm or die trying...now Fate has thrown us together. Different threads all joined at the same knot." He looks up, tears falling freely down his cheeks, though his look is one of resolve. "Lamm must pay for taking my Joline."
At being adressed as professor Atticus smiles at Twilight."Not, yet, mylady, not yet. They would not let me offer a Professors thesis till I am of age. Something like thirty. They are written, of course, and very well received, but alas some regularities. But never mind, the meeting has other reasons to speak of intellectual laurels. I conclude each and everyone was summoned in a rather peticular way. Oh, there is our host! Madame Esmeranda, a pleasure!"
Atticus keeps quite for a moment or two after Madame Esmeranda has finished. But then the others at the table speak up, saying they have personal issues with Lamm and he sighs sadly.How much suffering one person can cause, how much suffering.
He then clears his throat.
"Well, it seems as if the whole soiree has gathered. Let me introduce myself again. My name is Magister Atticus Fulvius. I am mainly interested in one of the children this Lamm has stolen. And I am prepared to do a lot to bring him back." He then opens his hand and slowly making a fist.
"Lamm will be not an easy target, although with the knowledge of his hiding place, it will be much easier. But as a team, we might have a chance to break his shadow hand on the city. And bring him to justice!"
"Hello Zellara, it seems odd that if you spent so much effort in contacting us you wouldn't know who we were. But if it is an introduction you require I am Twilight, priestess of Calistria. Mr. Lamm is the reason I pledged myself to the Savoured Sting and it was only recently that I took my final vows. Calistria has seen fit to reward my devotion by ensuring that you found me. This undertaking has the Lady's blessing."
As Twilight spoke she felt the excitement welling up in her again her words taking on the intensity of her passion. She looked to her companions and was encouraged. Where before she saw only haunted expressions and grim determination, after Zellara's speech she now started to see the fire behind her companion's eyes.
She took a breath and calmed down, leaning back into her chair.
"We have been given a great gift and we have you to thank for it Madam Esmeranda. You have my deepest gratitude."
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I'm Nargun Firehelm. I'm here to kill Gaeldren Lamm, and anyone who would try to stop me Killing him. If I can avenge you for your own loss, I'd be glad to.
The dwarf eyes narrow as he listen to Devan story, but he doesn't add a word,and prefers to gulp some of the fortune teller"s wine
When Twilight speaks, he seems to lose control, shaking with anger
"mister" Lamm? MISTER? That scum doesn't deserve the name of "mister"!He just deserve a bloody death and an unmarked, forgotten grave. I won't be the one to bury him, but I'm hell bent on giving him as bloody a death as I can.
Mirela takes a seat when the reading begins and stays quiet and thoughtful through most of the other speeches. Now that she is closer, you can make out one more detail that was not clear in the gloom near the door. Branded on each of the shoulders of her rough armor is the bow and arrow symbol of Erastil.
She finally reacts after the dwarf's outburst.
While Lamm made deserve a bloody death, unless things 'ave changed lots since I escaped that bastard, not everyone in there will deserve the same killin. Most of Lamms Lambs that I knew were nabbed or just looking for a good meal and 'ave no place else to go. If we go in and kill them all we will be soaking in a lot of innocent blood as well as those few core members of his gang that deserve your hatred Sir.
She pauses for breath and looks around at everyone else
Even knowing where he is this may be a difficult hunt. His old hideouts had multiple exits and a often few tricks that we all knew. We need to strike quickly and with surprise, if we just barge right in, our prey may spook and run out the back door.
This is exactly why I came back to The City. The gods 'ad been giving me signs for some time and now it is time for us to put down this sick animal.
After a few seconds, while the dwarf nearly throw the now empty wine bottle on the wall, he seems to compose himself
You're right of course. I don't need my hatred of Lamm blind myself. Some of his partners in crime might have no choice but to join him. Other might be bloodthirsty criminals, just like their boss. I don't want to become ..worse than Lamm. Thank you for those words of wisdom.
After a pause, as Narun thinks, his tatooed arms crossed on his chest, pondering the Erastilian words
So you're on the hunt, so to speak, and you think we should first keep a low profile to learn more about our prey and his lair?
"A most logical conclusion. Now, this seems a bit awkward, but I can see that we are all bound by our desire to end Lamm reign. But I do not know any of you. Well I have deducted a few of your abilities, but then a lot is still inconcluded. Maybe everyone could introduce each other properly, and list his strength, and maybe weaknesses. This will make it easier to plan and prevent that we run to his lair in rush like a few chickens on the run from the fox."
He then straightens himself.
"I am not a very good in melee and even worse in using a bow, but what I lack in physical abilities, I more than make up in knowledge. I am also a decent scholar of alchemy and know how to use and make a few utensils of this trade. Well, I can defend myself"
The last is said well patting his stout walking cane.
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I'm a fighter. That's obvious. And I fight with my big axe.
Besides for the dwarf's outburst, the others in the room seemed relatively calm after Zellara's speech. Devan wondered how they had been wronged by the despicable old man. In the end it doesn't matter, as long as they desire the same goal.
Brushing his tears away with his sleeve, the young man pushed away his grief for now as he listened to the others in the room start discussing the situation. He noticed with faint amusement that the dwarf (was Nargun his name?) and the red headed Follower of Erastil had gotten over their apprehension of each other.
Devan thought the scholar's suggestion was prudent and wise, so he followed the man's self assessment with his own.
"I was always decent at throwing darts as a younger man, but to be honest I've never brandished a weapon at another person in my life, so I can't say what skill I might have. I am certainly not a learned man, but I know this city very well, and I've picked up quite a bit on the street. I know how to make tongues wag and how to sneak when needed. My eyes don't miss much. Plus...I can make magic happen with my lute."
Mirela continues to watch the dwarf carefully after he almost throws the bottle against the wall.
That on is a 'othead. I need to watch 'I'm or 'e will get us in trouble.
A pretty boy and a scholar who can't fight. At least the alchemy part sounds like it could be useful. Oh I guess...
I've been out of The City for a long time, so I do be abit behind on what's going on. But I can 'andle myself in a fight or 'unt things with my bow. I also did be trained to 'elp people who got 'urt, so I can patch some of you up if things go bad.
As you start to plan for an attack on Lamm, Zellara speaks again, "It sounds like you are willing to take on the challenge. I shall perform a reading for you in return for your pledge of aid." She immediately deals a card to each of you. "This is the Choosing. The card I have dealt you has special meaning to you. Show us your card, and remember it, then return it to me."
Mirela - The card dealt to you is The Avalanche. The fortune-teller grimaces at this card, "This card means disaster. Be forewarned. Woe may befall us all before long. I do not like this omen."
Devan - The card dealt to you is The Juggler. Zellara says "This card represents Destiny and the fates of others. You are tied to the destiny of more than just yourself, perhaps many others. Your responsibility is great."
Nargun - The card you recieve is The Crows. Zellara looks at you sympatheticlly. "Sometimes the Harrow reveals things that have already been in addition to what will be. Your card, gentle dwarf, means the violent loss of a loved one. I know you have already experienced that loss. You have my sympathy."
Atticus - You are dealt The Cricket. "I divine this means quick travel, but great rewards at the end of your journey. It is a lucky card. I wish you well in your travels" she says with a smile.
Twilight - When you turn the card, you see The Dance. "Much like a ballroom dance, the solution to your problems are complex and require the cooperation of others to be successful. Perhaps that indicates those gathered here, perhaps others..."
Aleira - You are dealt The Peacock Zellara divines "The Peacock means an object or person of great beauty, but that beauty is fleeting and must be preserved even if it means stopping time itself. One who is lovely but vain will try to gain power to maintain herself.
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I bring with me my Lady's blessings. As long as we are dedicated to this course I will see to it that our weapons strike true and our armour is strengthened while those that oppose us suffer misfortune and ruin. Should you falter I can soothe your wounds and bolster your resolve. I am also skilled in the art of conversation and social graces should a softer touch be necessary to achieve our ends.
....
Twilight looks at the card and smiles. Although she never practiced dancing she had seen others learn the wild dances of the common folk and the strictly choreographed routines of the nobility and she knew that a skillful dancer could fan the flames of desire in their partner and onlookers alike. And the fortuneteller did speak the truth, while a single talented dancer was impressive, a group of truly skilled dancers was a sight to behold.
Me? Aleira speaks up, Well, I have some magical ability, and I know the city well, and I have experience with Gaedren. He was the one who gave me these." she says, indicating her scars. " I was once one of his 'Little Lamms'." .
After the reading she sits back in surprise. "An object or person of great beauty? Well that's not me then," she says. ..and its certainly not Gaedren! I wonder what these portents have to do with putting a stop to the vicious old bastard? I mean, he needs to be stopped, but I can't see how stopping him could have anything to do with a great destiny or travel."
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Twilight shoots a quick glance at Aleira.
She sells herself short so quickly, she can't see past her scars. That won't do, we'll have to work on that.
As she gathers back the Choosing cards and shuffles them back into the deck with an effortless flutter, Zellara looks to Aleria's question:"The Harrow tells us something true, but we must be open to see its meaning.That is not always easy or obvious. What will happen may not be seen by us now, but the cards know."
As she speaks, she deals out the nine more cards in a 3x3 grid. "The left column of the Spread represents secrets of the past. It also represents law, for the past is unchangeable and set in stone. The middle column is the present. It is the sum total of the past, but opens to the infinite possibilities of the future, and as such is a crossroads between order and entropy. The right column, then, represents the chaos of the future, where anything is possible and nothing is set."
She has dealt out the cards face down, and indicates the top row. "This row is good, the bottom row is bad, and the middle row is the balance between the two. It can be, based on how the cards fall, that these influences are reversed, so pay attention."
Zellara begins reading the spread by turning over the top left card. Which is The Marriage. Zellara indicates this card, besides the union of lovers, indicates the union of persons or ideas from the past, for the good of all. She also explains that this card has increased importance based on its position. She postulate that it may symbolize the coming together of yoru group to stop Gaedren Lamm.
The middle card on the top row is then revealed to be The Locksmith. The fortune-teller smiles at this placement. "This card is a true match in position. That indicates it is extemely important. The Locksmith reveals keys to a new positive destiny is occurring right now. That can only mean that fortune smiles greatly on your fellowship. That is a great portent for your success!"
The last card on the top row, which indicates good things for the future is revealed next. That card is The Liar. Zellara explains this is a card of wickedness and typically means treachery or unrequited love, but since it is in the good (top) row, it has a different meaning -- that of a new relationship beginning in the future for the good of all.
The Varisian mystic then turns the first card in the middle row over showing The Joke. "This placement indicates increased importance," says Zellara in her soft voice. "It's meaning is overcoming danger by artifice or subterfuge in the past. This may indicate my method of reaching out to you to bring you all here..."
The middle card of the middle row is flipped over next, and The Teamster looks up at you. The fortune-teller explains that this card is also a "true match" and therefore of extreme importance. She says The Teamster indicates a current driving external pressure by which she explains the need to stop Lamm, or perhaps something even more important.
The last card on the middle row is shown to be The Cricket, which was Atticus' Choosing card. She looks hard at the bookish professor. "This card is for you, my friend. It means a future need for speed or quick passage. I know not exactly what it portends, but be warned, there will be time when you have the need to move quickly. More quickly than you have ever moved before..."
"The bottom row is often tidings of evil or woe, so be forewarned. The first column, as I said, is past events." Zellara turns that card, revealing the The Inquisitor. "This card indicates an immutable reality that has borne ill for you in the past. I divine this represents each of your past interactions with that swine Lamm."
The middle card of the bottom row when exposed shows The Rakshasa. This card has stressed importance in this location Zellara explains. It's meaning is the current evil of dominance or slavery. She interprets this to represent the enforced servitude of all the Little Lamm's that Gaedren keeps under his dominion.
The last card of the Spread is turned upwwards, and The Publican is shown. "This card is misaligned, which means it has an opposite meaning. Typically, this card means future fellowhip or camraderie but instead here it means a future wicked state where safety cannot be found. Again, I do not like this portent. It bodes ill for all of us."
With a sigh, Zellara gathers back up her deck. "Who can say about the mystery of the cards? They have spoken about your past, present, and future. Some is unchangeable, and some may never come to pass. Take the messages for weal or woe, and do what you will with them."
She shuffles the cards a few more times, then slips them deftly into her pocket. She looks at your seriously, then speaks in an urgent voice.
"Now, I must implore you to move quickly to confront our mutual foe, Lamm. I know you want to take time to plan and size up your new-found allies, but Lamm is crafty and has spies everywhere. If you tarry too long, he may learn of your plans, and uproot or shift to a new hideout. I gave up much to get his current location. Don't let that sacrifice be in vain!"
"Now I must rest, as the divining of the Harrow takes its toll on my vitality." She does look visibly worn as she stands and shows you all to the door of her simple cottage.
Devan reached forward towards the card dealt to him, turning it over to reveal a jolly man juggling chunks of rock and an elephant. The bard dexterously flips the card around, turning it in a slow circuit so that anyone who cares to can see it before returning it to the fortune teller.
He listened intently as Zellara named each card and explained its portent to each of the group. As she moved on to Nargun, the young man's brow furrowed. While he understood that his destiny was tied to those around him, he wasn't sure he wanted responsibility for more than himself. His focus was on Lamm and he had no other care at the moment.
Devan watched with curiosity as the skilled fortune teller laid out the spread. The harrowers his mother had went to had always used the cross, so the square layout was new to the young man. He alternated between watching Zellara and watching the others' reactions as the reading continued.
At the end of the harrow reading, the bard stands up as Zellara indicates the reading is over and their welcome in her home is expired for the moment. At the doorway he turns back to their hostess, his mind's whirling emotions finally having found a temporary reprieve. "Worry not, Madame Zellara. Lamm's demise shall come swiftly."
He offers a respectful nod to the woman before walking further out to await the others. Impatient though he was, his fate was tied with these other five and he would need to work with them toward Lamm's end.
Seeing the Locksmith come up, Atticus has an epiphany. With a sigh he follows the reading, imprinting each and every word in his memory.
before Zellara leaves, he thanks her for all the help she offered and then turns to the others.
"Time is of essence, but still. Do we want to approach the hideout in broad daylight or better in the darkness of the night?
I am not utterly prepared for an assault on this hideout, and what I need is, well not that simply to get. Maybe Devan or Aleira could help me, as you booth say that you know the city well. So do I but I need something from the part of the city I do not know at all.
Twilight, Nagun and Mirela maybe you can stroll past and check for options to enter the hideout."