31 Lamashan, 4716
I know what Gaedren has done to you. He has wronged me as well. I know where he dwells, yet cannot strike at him. Come to my home at 3 Lancet Street at sunset. Others like you will be there. Gaedren must face his fate, and justice must be done.
I know what Gaedren has done. He has wronged me as well. I know where he dwells, yet cannot strike at him. Come to my home at 3 Lancet Street at sunset. Others will be there, though for personal reasons. Gaedren must face his fate, and justice must be done.
I know what Gaedren has done to you. He has wronged me as well. I know where he dwells, yet cannot strike at him. Come to my home at 3 Lancet Street at sunset. Others like you will be there. Gaedren must face his fate, and justice must be done.
I know what Gaedren has done to you. He has wronged me as well. I know where he dwells, yet cannot strike at him. Come to my home at 3 Lancet Street at sunset. Others like you will be there. Gaedren must face his fate, and justice must be done.
Cecil sits back, looking over the Harrow card as he flips it over and over again in his long fingers. Thousands of thoughts flood through his mind, many of them questions. However, only moments pass before he has winnowed them all down with a grim certainty. He flicks his fingers and sends the card tumbling through the air, spinning in an invisible hand of force as he ruminates on the new development.
I care not how they got to me; I've not been terribly subtle. But I don't know who it is. Perhaps Gaedren wants to be rid of me.
Looking over the card again, he gestures, sending it skittering across his book-strewn desk. It doesn't matter. he thinks. It's my greatest chance to find him, one way or another.
Cecil arrives a little later than he hoped, but he is still driven. He walks up the short steps and raps on the door with the back of his gauntlet. He feels a sense of urgency; it's getting late, and he doesn't want to miss this chance.
Gamon nearly places the mortar atop a wrinkled card, barely noticing in time to avoid crushing the thin material with the stone implement. He picks up the card, long fingers turning it in his hand as he examines the card. His eyes widen as he reads the message on the back, recognizing the name. He stands motionless for a second, his mind whirling, before slipping the card into a pocket and returning to his work.
Well, I suppose I'm not the only one who's dealt with the pain this man has brought. Not sure if I trust this message, but I'll be there, that's for sure.
Jolon stares at the card. It couldn't have been just left on the altar by accident. He picks it up and stares at the capering puppets on it. He remembered hearing once that it had something to do with prophecy...how a prophet could no more control future than someone in the audience could change the performance on a stage. Oddly fitting, considering how little control he felt he had throughout his life. Whoever placed this here clearly knew enough about him to pick it out.
He packs his things and informs one of the other acolytes that he'd be gone for the day. He rolled his eyes a bit as she tutted him for missing the Vespers. He clomps out of the Grey District and into the city at large. He quickly gets lost trying to find the address, as it's not along his normal route to the clinic.
He arrives three hours later, finding a half-elf man standing outside the door knocking on it. He shifts uneasily from foot to foot before clearing his throat.
"Be received, Stranger," he says, trying to sound as quiet as a deep, mighty voice like his could.
Aloysia grins at the card she holds in her hand. I still say they aren't paying me enough for this, but at least it looks like the locating and planning will be mostly done for me. That takes a little sting out of the apparent lack of value they have for their page.
Zellara's place. Maybe she's not as batty as I thought?
Aloysia packs her bag with her usual supplies, throws up her cowl and heads to the shop.
Please come inside. Four will arrive to bring about justice.
A few hours later Cecil and Jolon arrive as well. The door opens to Cecil's touch.
The interior of this small, humble home consists of a single cozy chamber filled with a fragrant haze of flowers and strong spice. The aroma comes from several sticks of incense smoldering in wall-mounted burners that look like butterfly-winged elves. The smoke gives the room a dreamy feel. The walls are draped with brocaded tapestries, one showing a black-skulled beast juggling human hearts, and another showing a pair 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 chairs. A basket covered by blue cloth sits under the table.
Atop the table lies a note under a stone paperweight.
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.
True to the note the basket has two bottles of wine and several loafs of bread. The bread is a touch stale but filling, and the wine is surely not the finest, but it tastes good enough for a simple meal.
Cecil is suspicious when the room turns out to be empty except for the others who are waiting as well.
"You are the ones also looking for Gaedren?" he queries, looking around the room.
His questions don't really stop even as he patrols the room."Did any of you even see the person who set this up? I got here late; How long have you been waiting?"
He will walk around the room, his suspicion and agitation evident to everyone. If there are other rooms, he will poke around in them, looking to see if anyone waits in ambush. This has to be a trap. No way the host just happened to 'step out' after she invited us over.
The obviously tired and stressed out half-elf eventually calms down and drops into a seat with a sigh. He won't even object to bread and wine if someone actively offers it to him, but he won't get it himself. He should probably eat, though; the man looks half-starved.
Another dead end... Celise, I will find you. Hold on for daddy, please...
Gamon arrives at the house a bit before sunset, suspiciously looking around as he mounts the steps to the door. A woman seems to already be standing outside the door, examining a note pinned to it. As he reads the note over her shoulder he asks, Well, shall we step inside then? I'd guess you're here for the same reason as I.
Aloysia eyes Gamon up and down as she approaches the building, then peers over his shoulder to read the note. Breaking her silence she says in a sarcastic tone, "Justice, huh?" She chuckles lightly to herself, and says, "After you 'Bringer of Justice'"
Stepping in the room she can't help but look for marks or threats, hiding holes, and the like.
But she's caught off guard by the image of the black-skulled beast juggling the hearts. She unconsciously, but quietly says, "Left anterior descending coronary artery," a habit she picked up while listening to the anatomy lessons to help learn the structures of the body. The painting is accurate, peering a little closer, Impressive.
She takes a look at the bread and wine, sniffs it for any signs of poison, but also has a hard time turning down free food. She takes a sip of wine, but doesn't drink much, just enough to taste the flavor. She does, however, eat a large piece of bread. She sits down, crosses her legs, and spreads her arms over the back of the chair exposing her heart in an attempt to garner trust from the other man in the room. She never can stop trying to manipulate those around her. "What brings you here, friend?" the word friend emphasized slightly.
As Cecil enters, Aloysia turns to look at him, but doesn't move any other part of her body. "Hero of the realms, welcome!" she says in another snide tone. She frowns slightly at her joke being lost on the man as his barrage of questions come pouring out. "Inquisitive one aren't you? We haven't been here long, enough time to get to know each other," the last sentence spoken in as earnest a tone as she can muster.
Gamon smiles slightly at her remark, opening the door and walking into the room. He tilts his head to the side as he hears her remark upon entering the room, but walks to the table and reads the note. Looks like we'll have to wait.
He ignores the wine but does take a hunk of bread as he sits down, biting into it as he listens to Aloysia's question. Long story short, Lamm's been responsible for a lot of suffering. I've watched children die from his actions. I can't stand for that.
The half elf mutters to himself as he analyzes the aura
"Wait!" he calls, holding out a hand. "Don't eat the food. There's an aura of illusion all over the room, but it's not one that I recognize."
Jolon enters the room and his eyes widen at the sight of a familiar friend.
"Gamon! I'm surprised, I thought you'd still be back at Johan's. Did you get a Harrow card as well?"
He jumps in surprise as Cecil scans the room and barks out a warning.
"But...the food's not part of the illusion. That'd probably be safe."
He rubs his chin.
"I don't even know who you all are, besides Gamon."
Gamon, who has been munching on the bread for about three hours now while waiting for the other to arrive, pauses mid-bite, slowly swallows, then says in a flat tone I don't think the bread is the illusion, or if so then it's one that holds up to touch, taste and smell as well as sight.
Cecil sighs and waves at the room. "Eat if you want. I can't figure it out..."
Whoever did this had powerful magic at their disposal.
-Posted with Wayfinder
"What's your name? I am Jolon, Brother Jolon Vulture-Heart."
Aloysia internally jumps at the concept of falling for an illusion and potential threat to her livelihood, but then it registers that she's been here a while, eating the food, and she wasn't dead yet. She shrugs and continues eating.
"Why, we're heroes of course! Here to right the wrongs of the world! Isn't that what those cards and notes strewn about say?"
She pauses a moment and ponders, Did he say "Brother?" Wheels start turning in her head about how to approach one like Jolon.
"Brother of what?"
"Cecil. Rosencrad." the half-elf replies tersely. "I'm no hero. Just an author who wants his little girl back."
-Posted with Wayfinder
The door to the house opens and a middle-aged attractive Varisian woman with long dark hair enters. "Greetings all, I am Zellara Esmeranda, thank you for coming to my home." She sits in one of the chairs at the table and nods for any who are not already seated to do so. A deck of Harrow cards appears in her hands as if by magic and she shows extreme grace and proficiency shuffling the deck, the cards seeming to flow in and around her delicate hands.
She begins speaking, softly, but the words ring clearly in your ears, "Thank you for coming, my friends, and 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 from the Korvosan Guard, but they turned me away. And so I asked around. I paid bribes. I consulted my harrow deck for advice. And recently, I was rewarded—I found out where Gaedren dwells. He can be found in an old fishery north of here, at Westpier 17, where he trains abducted children to be pickpockets and counts his stolen treasures.
"But I need your help. I cannot hope to face this man on my own, and the Guard moves so slowly that if they were willing to help, 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, for 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.”
The cards in her hands stop their motion and fan out. "I can perform a Harrowing for you, something to help you, and perhaps give you insight." She holds the nine cards out to everyone to pick one and show it to her.
Cecil reaches out and picks out a card.
The demon's lantern? he thinks, holding it before him.
Zellara takes the card back and shuffles it into the deck, "The Demon's Lantern, impossible situations, confrontation with allies."
Aloysia internally jumps at the concept of falling for an illusion and potential threat to her livelihood, but then it registers that she's been here a while, eating the food, and she wasn't dead yet. She shrugs and continues eating.
"Why, we're heroes of course! Here to right the wrongs of the world! Isn't that what those cards and notes strewn about say?"
She pauses a moment and ponders, Did he say "Brother?" Wheels start turning in her head about how to approach one like Jolon.
"Brother of what?"
"The Church of Pharasma."
The door to the house opens and a middle-aged attractive Varisian woman with long dark hair enters. "Greetings all, I am Zellara Esmeranda, thank you for coming to my home." She sits in one of the chairs at the table and nods for any who are not already seated to do so. A deck of Harrow cards appears in her hands as if by magic and she shows extreme grace and proficiency shuffling the deck, the cards seeming to flow in and around her delicate hands.
She begins speaking, softly, but the words ring clearly in your ears, "Thank you for coming, my friends, and 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 from the Korvosan Guard, but they turned me away. And so I asked around. I paid bribes. I consulted my harrow deck for advice. And recently, I was rewarded—I found out where Gaedren dwells. He can be found in an old fishery north of here, at Westpier 17, where he trains abducted children to be pickpockets and counts his stolen treasures.
"But I need your help. I cannot hope to face this man on my own, and the Guard moves so slowly that if they were willing to help, 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, for 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.”
The cards in her hands stop their motion and fan out. "I can perform a Harrowing for you, something to help you, and perhaps give you insight." She holds the nine cards out to everyone to pick one and show it to her.
Jolon stares at Zellara as she speaks. The lines on her face, the sound of strength beneath the gentleness of her voice, it all reminded him of his mother. His brow furrows as she speaks of the loss of her son.
"Then we've BOTH lost someone we care about to Gaedren. I swear, I'll help you find justice for him, AND for my mother."
He reaches out at selects a card.
He turns it over to reveal a rabbit dressed in finery fit for a king, as if the crown on his head wasn't enough, holding a broken rapier in hand.
"The Rabbit Prince," he reads.
Gamon nods at Jolon's words, We all have. And he will pay.
He picks up a card, staring at the odd image printed upon it, The cricket.
A tear slips from Zellara's eye and she blinks unexpectedly. She takes Jolon's card and shuffles it back in the deck, "The Rabbit Prince, capricious in combat and full of whimsey." She takes Gamon's card as well, "The cricket, ah fortune favors you today. Speed and quick passage on your journey."
Jolon frowns at Zellara's tear. He approaches her and opens his arms a bit, offering her a hug.
Aloysia smiles a genuine smile at Jolon's admission of being with the Church of Pharasma. "I think I'm going to like having you around."
As Zellara enters, Aloysia sets her face back to a serene but unreadable expression. However, at the mention of Gaedren Lamm's name the briefest flash of anger crosses her face, but she doesn't hold it for long.
She reaches out tapping a card.
Cecil watches the fortune teller intently but has nothing he can offer while she's performing her harrowing. He does watch the ritual with interest.
I wonder what kind of magic is in this Harrowing of hers... I haven't tried searching using a spell like this, but if it found Gaedren, then it could be useful.
He allows himself to hope, if only for a moment. I'm coming, honey. I'll find you.
Zellara finishes the choosing very quickly, "The Juggler, though his smile does not shine on you fondly. Performing multiple roles at once, chasing down one thing while doing another."
"These are the roles chosen by the fates for your near future, may the help you find Lamm." Her voice cracks on the last few words and she soundlessly accepts Jolon's embrace. She recovers and continues, "Now onto the spread." She shuffles all the cards quickly, they seem to dance upon her fingers, before laying out nine cards in three rows of three.
"The past," she intones, pointing at the first column, "is set in stone and as such is focused with order."
"The Demon's Lantern." She looks directly at Cecil, "You find yourself in a mire, though a guide will light your way out."
"The Crows. Your loved ones or treasures have been taken from all of you at one point or another."
"The Empty Throne. The losses of your past will lead to strength in your future."
"The present," she points at the second column "is the meeting point of entropy and order. It is the sum of the past and open to the infinite possibilities of the future."
"The Brass Dwarf. A good omen, and bad, for you will find yourself invulnerable to the peril of the present, though not in-injured."
"The Mountain Man. Your physical power will assist you in the present."
"The Idiot. Beware, this card holds much potential in your present, it speaks of danger hidden in foolishness and greed."
"Finally, the future," she points at the third column, "is chaotic and infinite possibilities exist."
"The Cricket." She looks this time at Gamon, "Speed and alacrity will serve you well while flying above the streets of Korvosa."
"The Unicorn. Those which you seek will be yours again."
"The Carnival. Illusions of reality will lead you astray in your hunt."
Zellara finishes the Harrow, the room warming a few degrees from a chill you did not notice leaving. She smiles, though it is weary, "Now you know of your past, the dangers of the present, and some predictions of the future. I wish you good fortune in the times to come, though I do wish to know more of you, the tales in the streets and predictions from the cards were not too specific."
"Thank you, Zellara. I feel like perhaps this will be possible, after all. With these people's help, perhaps even guaranteed."
He turns to the other three. "I will go with you, and lend my magical talents to your fight. But know this... I do not intend to spare Gaedren, and if I can... I will end him painfully. He took the only thing that made living worthwhile from me."
She listens to Cecil say his piece, I like this guy, he just might do the risky part of my contract for me.
She responds in a dulcet tone, "Well, good sir...Cecil, yes? If Lamm has taken so much from you Cecil, then it only seems right that you end him. I will help you get close to him, this I promise."
Jolon hugs Zellara and then listens to her read the Harrowing to them.
"Birth and death are written in the bones, but bones can be broken." he says idly.
When they finish, he looks to the others, a serious look on his face.
"I don't think anyone here has any intention of sparing him, Cecil. That scumbag murdered my mother in cold blood. Left me an orphan alone in a city that hates those like me. Through the Church and my own will I haven't let it crush and consume me. But if you want to deal the deathblow to Gaedren, I won't stop you. Hell I'll HELP you make it. I'll keep you alive to make sure it's done." Jolon replies.
You find the old fishery rather quickly. It's typical that Lamm would pick a place as decrepit as he is to hide out. It is creaky and covered with mold and grit. The fishery itself is perched on a steep embankment, roughly 13 feet below is the Jeggare River, and it looks like the walls of the fishery extend down to a few feet above the water.
All of the external windows are boarded shut but have ample slits for easy sight lines. Occasionally you see shadows move across the boards from the inside.
Cecil stays around the corner, so as to avoid being spotted.
"I'll admit I havent really thought about how to proceed from here." he says, rubbing his tired eyes.
-Posted with Wayfinder
Gamon stays behind Cecil, peeking quickly around the corner to check the situation, Does anyone think they're sneaky enough to get close and scout out the fishery?
"Allow me," Aloysia says with a smile. She makes a couple of circuits around the surrounding area, but not close enough to be conspicuous. She looks specifically for areas she might be able access by climbing either the fishery or any structures in close vicinity. She'll also see about potential water access areas if nothing distinct stands out higher up.
After scouting at a distance she will find a dark alley or tucked away place to apply a commoner's disguise to be as nondescript as she can be.
Then, she walks near the building, but not directly to it to see if just passing by triggers any kind of response from nearby people who may be in the employ of Lamm, and how they react to a stranger's presence.
Jolon grimaces at the smell of the fishery. While they're waiting for Aloysia to return, he crosses his arms and attempts small talk.
"So...Cecil. You said you're a writer. What do you write?"
Cecil leans against the wall they're hiding by, and rubs the bridge of his nose. "Did I say I was an author? I guess I did..." he says, pinching his nose. "Old habits."
Sighing, he takes his hand from his face and waves it dismissively. "Ah, you know. I go by a pen name. The Rosegilt, if you must know. Only wrote a few romance novels..."
He starts ticking them off on his hands. "Flames Without Time, The Heat And The Harrow, The Nymph With Red Hair, Confessions Of A Shadow, Will Of The River, The Forest Dancers, Gods Of Lust, The Calistrian Conspiracy, Kyton's Kiss..."
He shrugs. "It made me more money than my education at the academy ever made me, I guess. I... haven't sent my last manuscript in yet. Eye of the Beholder."
Jolon blinks in surprise.
"I think I saw Bishop d'Bear reading Will of the River once. I didn't realize it was a romance novel she was reading!"
Cecil nods. "I wrote all manner of styles of romance. Will of the River was relatively tame, compared to, let's say, Gods of Lust. Though if she liked that one, she's going to either adore or furiously hate Kyton's Kiss... let's just say I had to do a lot of research into Zon-Kuthon's 'thing' for that novel."
He chuckles for the first time in many months... as if doing something about his trouble had started cracking at the smothering ennui that pervaded his life. "I'm never going to look at whips and chains the same way."
Jolon shudders.
The reek of brine and the stink of week-dead fish hang thickly in the air here. The old double doors in the side of this weathered building are tightly closed, with a drooping signpost hanging above. The sign it once displayed is long gone, leaving behind only a single short length of rusted chain.
A fifteen-foot-wide loading dock abuts the side of the building here. A few carts sit nearby, partially loaded with large, tar-caked barrels marked with a fish-shaped splotch of red paint on the side. Double doors to the immediate south of the loading dock’s ramp provide access to the building’s interior, while a rickety flight of stairs descends ten feet to a point just three feet over the river’s surface, where a simple door provides a secondary entrance. The doors are kept slightly ajar, except for one point in time where a cart is wheeled out and taken by some teamsters. The cart is loaded down with foul smelling fish slurry. Four children are led out to help load the slurry into the cart while directed by a gnome dressed as a human child. None of them react to seeing a stranger here and everyone keeps their head down.
A slippery boardwalk clings to the side of the fishery, held together by barnacle-encrusted pilings that have had half of their thickness worn away below the waterline twelve feet below. A door is seen on this boardwalk, though no one enters or exits from it. The dock slopes downward approaching the ship docked to the east and looks extremely slick, which could be hazardous considering the lack of handrails.
The rotten deck of this ancient sailing ship seems to be barely intact; its hull is worn and thick with seaweed and barnacles. The ship is held together primarily by the layers of old rope that lash it securely to the pilings that support the fishery and the nearby boardwalk. The rickety walkway leads along the ship’s starboard, a foot below its railing. A single wooden door leading into the aft cabin bears a crude painting of a red fish on its surface.
Looking out from the nearby adjacent pier you can see just below the fishery. A narrow space exists under the fishery, with about three feet of room between the floor of the eastern side of the building and the languid, foamy river water below. Wooden pilings support the building, and thick mats of moss and cobwebs hang from ropes and rusted chains between them. A wooden walkway floats on the river’s surface, winding along the inner wall of pilings that supports the building’s frame above. The walkway leads from the sodden ship to the east all the way west to a small two-and-a-half-foot-square door that leads into an understructure below the fishery’s land-bound half. The pilings below this understructure are densely arrayed, leaving only narrow gaps into the water below that area.
Aloysia returns to the group in a very different appearance than when she left. Her clothes are ragged and there's dirt caked around her face and beneath her fingernails.
"It looks like we have options to choose from! The north side looks to be the easiest entrance to get in, but also the most densely populated. They never really shut the delivery doors there, but I expect there are quite a few people right inside those large double-doors.
The boardwalk on the south might be an option. There's a door that seems relatively unused, but the boardwalk looks to be quite treacherous to negotiate.
The dilapidated ship on the east side is most certainly tied to the fishery, it has the same fish marking on it. I suppose it's possible that there may be supplies, uniforms, or the like on the ship we could use but it would be a risk to board with limited potential for rewarding our efforts. Regardless, it's something to think about.
The underpier might be our best option. There's a small walkway under the fishery that leads to a very small hatch in the floor of the fishery. It comes from the ship, so I'm sure it's used for supplies, but I didn't see anyone milling about down there.
The last option is I could try to get in alone to scout security, but there's a fair chance someone in there might recognize me. I've spent time in this district. What do you all think?"
"Underneath sounds like the best option." Cecil answers. "Are we ready to go?" he asks.
-Posted with Wayfinder
Jolon nods.
"I'll admit tactics in a fight are still very new to me. Fighting living people who can think is probably trickier than fighting mindless undead in the Grey District..."
He adjusts the klar on his left arm.
"Lead the way, Aloysia."
Now clad in armor of force, Cecil feels as prepared as he can be. "Yes, let's find this bastard." he says with surprising backbone.