As the six of you continue to share breakfast, tales, and ‘friendly’ barbs with one another, a nearby door opens and a young man dressed in Qadiran fashion peeks into the dining room. Upon seeing the assembled group, his eyes light up.
”Ah! There you are,” he smiles, addressing you all as he steps into the room. ”I had been told that you were all already at breakfast but I did not realize that you had been sequestered here instead of mingling out in the dining hall with the other Pathfinders.” Though his dress is Qadiran in style, he’s clearly no more Qadiran than any of you - in fact, his accent clearly places him as a Varisian native and he is most likely from Magnimar itself.
”I am Jacanne, sent by Lady Heidmarch to deliver a message. Unfortunately other matters arose and she will be unable to meet with you personally as she had initially planned, but she gave me this note and asked me to deliver it to you,” he continues, striding forward and gently laying a small sheet of parchment onto the table for all of you to read.
Once everyone has had a chance to read the note, Jacanne pulls out the aforementioned letter of credit and holds it out for someone to take. ”Once your preparations are complete, head down to the docks and take this with you. I believe the ship you’ll be looking for is called the Wanton Ways; deliver this letter to her captain, Yarnelle Fessender. Lady Heidmarch already sent word ahead, so the good captain should already be expecting you and will hopefully be ready to depart in short order.”
He pauses for a moment and then turns to Eredur, smiling. "But I do believe you've got enough time for tea before you set out. I'll fetch you a fresh cup." And with that, he turns and hurries off towards the kitchen.
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So Heidmarch herself calls upon my aid! ah..um I mean all of us! Eamon's grin is that of child who found two silvers in the gutter across from the candy shop. This Zeeva person seems like a possible charlatan if you ask me!*sniff* Eamon rolls his eyes but his mirth is apparent. To think that, the venture captain has hand picked you! To head up a very important mission to Korsovo! An entire city's security at stake if this trickster Zeeva is to be believed! But, what she sees in these others I can't understand. It is only correct that my first mission should be one of such gravity and importance. But the rest of these hay-seeds...well perhaps that's why the Venture captain Heidmarch chose me...to look after these in-experienced louts and make sure not too much of their blood is sacrificed. Ah..the things I must endure in the name of service....Well if one or more of them doesn't make it back she card hardly blame me? I mean look at them!
Yarnelle Fessender, name seems familar *hmph...* Eamon taps his index finger absently on his upper lip trying to recall if he's heard of captain Fessender's exploits.
Although not a member of the nobility and not a member of the Pathfinder Society herself, you have heard that Captain Fessender has a reputation of being able to 'get the job done' in a quick and efficient manner - whether that job is simply the transport of trade goods around the Inner Sea or the transport of Pathfinder agents to various locations around the Inner Sea.
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Guillaume, far from a green traveller having journeyed from far-off Galt, can't help but grimace - despite himself - at the thought of turning back on himself and heading Eastwards aboard the Wanton Ways. But the moment passes, this is it... the moment that he had hoped for since the futile quarrels of his homeland had sent him away seeking a better purpose - this is the moment that being a Pathfinder really meant something.
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Dalen drains her cup and hops to her feet. She grabs her pack, quiver, bow, and staff from where they were laid beside her chair and gives Karayan a huge grin.
"With a name like Wanton Ways, it oughta be an interesting trip! I'm ready to leave when everyone else is."
On the way out, Dalen finds one of Lady Heidmarch's retainers and asks them to let cook know that she enjoyed the meal and to convey her thanks to Lady Heidmarch for breakfast.
After making sure that all of your gear and other affairs are in order, such as expressions of gratitude for a fantastic breakfast, you all make your way through busy city streets from the grand views of the Naos district down through the Shore and into the area of the city known as Dockway. The heart of Magnimar’s maritime activity, Dockway never sleeps and ships can be seen coming in and out of the harbor at all hours of the day and night - and today is no exception.
You make your way along the bustling and crowded docks until you find what you seek, the Wanton Ways. The ship is a hive of activity as deckhands scurry to and fro, securing lines and loading cargo. A weathered and stern-looking human woman can be seen (and heard) giving directions to the various crew and when she glances down at the dock, she grins as she spots everyone.
”I reckon you’re th’ folks Sheila said would be comin’ by, eh?” she calls down to you. ”All o’ her folk have an air ‘bout ‘em, I’d know it anywhere! Well come on, don’t jus’ stand there! Climb aboard so’s we can getcher all settled in; we’ll be leavin’ fer ol’ Korvosa soon as th’ last of th’ cargo’s loaded up!” she continues, waving her arm in a beckoning motion.
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Eamon ducks behind a few crates and cask stacked on the dock before crossing the gangplank of the Wanton Ways. He licks his palm and attempts to pat down a long bit of hair that always seems protrude while leaving a thinning spot of his scalp suspiciously bear. It's as if Iomedea herself gives me these imperfections to compensate for all my other talents...*sigh*...who am I to question how the Goddess keeps a man's humility in check... His comb-over adjusted, Eamon again appears on the dock and crosses the gangplank.
He ignores other crew members and walks strait up to Captain . Captain Fessender! Your reputation proceeds you! I was relieved to hear we were in such reliable hands when tasked with this journey. Be it known, we've heard of you all the way in Taldor and I'm sure I'll turn a few heads when I've mentioned to those of better society that I've sailed with such an esteemed person as yourself. Please, feel free to call upon me should you require refined conversation during your dinner hour! Eamon's voice betrays no false confidence during his speech.. He truly believes that the Captain will invite him to dinner one or more times during the voyage.
As everyone files on board and introduces themselves, Captain Fessender takes the letter that you'd been given by Jacanne and looks it over. "Hah! Looks like it's all in order - good thing fer you folks, otherwise I'd have to make you work off yer fare," she says with a wink at Eamon. "And iffin' I did, flattery's a good start! But forgive me, I'd best let you folks get settled in 'fore we set sail. Ey, Pockeye!" Captain Fessender calls out. "Show these fine folks ta' their quarters!"
A burly, grim-looking man with a patch covering one eye makes his way over to the group. "C'mon, it'll be down these stairs," he beckons before turning and disappearing down them. The party follows him into the belly of the ship and down a narrow hallway to a small room at the end. Within it are six hammocks strung up and a chamberpot sitting in the corner; while the lodgings look serviceable, things will definitely be a bit cramped.
"There you have it; the womenfolk can hang some sheets for privacy if any of you care about such. Food's on in the galley at 07:00 and 17:00, stay out of the cargo hold and watch yer heads and feet while yer on deck," he explains brusquely. "And...let me know iffin' you need anything," he adds, perhaps a bit begrudgingly, before turning and heading back up top.
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"Will there be a warning as to when food is being served, such as a bell perhaps?"
Karayan awkwardly tries to get into one of the hammocks, almost falling out before he understands how it works.
"Oh, and before we continue. If I ever get hurt and you seek to heal me, please use this wand and not your own. Most regular healing methods actually hurt me." he points to a wand on his belt
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A frantic rush around the stalls of the Bazaar of Sails finally turns up everything that Guillaume thinks he will need and he barely makes the agreed meeting point in time... smoothing himself down, and looking to avoid any question about sea legs, he falls in with the rest of his companions as they are introduced to Fessender. Ensuring that etiquette is observed, he thanks the Captain for the welcome and finds a hammock near Eamon... he barely contains a wry smile as he watches Karayan wrestle with his bedding before asking, to no-one in particular, how long the journey is likely to take.
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Dalen asks the first mate if they could borrow something to partition off her and Shelya's hammocks and thanked him for his help. She then sets her pack and other gear down before deftly swinging into the hammock she'd claimed.
"This is pretty roomy for a ship," she says looking around the compartment they'd been given. "Last time I sailed I had to bunk with the crew."
At Karayan's question, the man called Pockeye pauses for a moment and turns back, with a chuckle. "Yeah, there's a bell. And if yer hard of hearing, just look fer a stampede heading towards the galley."
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Despite the trepidation that might’ve been held by some of you, the week-long voyage from Magnimar to Korvosa proves to, thankfully, be an uneventful one except for perhaps some seasickness here and there. The weather is calm and Captain Fessender proves to be a surprisingly good host as well as ship’s captain, sharing stories over mealtime of the places she’s been and of some of the more memorable individuals that she’s met in the process.
”Ah’m jus’ glad Sheila wanted me to take you all to Korvosa,” she comments at one point. ”It’s an easy trip an’ one Ah’ve made many a time. But this one time, she had me take a group o’ folks like you out to th’ Lady’s Light herself! That was a strange one, Ah gotta say. Won’t be stoppin’ there this time, thankfully, but we’ll pass by close enough tomorrah fer you to get a look at it iffin’ yer curious.” And true to her word next morning the ship does indeed pass by an enormous 200 foot high statue of a woman in flowing robes, holding aloft a staff that glows with a soft blue light - an ancient monument dating back to the days of the Thassilon Empire.
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Although the majority of your voyage held sunny skies and calm seas, the morning of your arrival into Korvosa’s harbor dawns with a foreboding gray sky and a slight chill in the air. Located at the mouth of the Jeggare River, Korvosa is not only the largest city within Varisia itself but also one of Varisia’s three city-states along with Magnimar and Riddleport. Once part of Cheliax, the city has a rich history and has slowly grown into one of the primary hubs of trade for the region.
Once the Wanton Ways has safely docked at the harbor, you bid Captain Fessender and her crew goodbye for the time being and set out into the city proper. A few quick inquiries later and you have your directions to Eodred’s Square, where Lady Heidmarch’s note directed you in order to meet up with Zeeva Foxglove. As you travel through the city, an ill wind stirs whitecaps on the nearby Jeggare River, carrying with it the faint odor of spoiled meat. Other travelers grumble and pull their collars up against the cold as they trudge along the city streets. Where Magnimar’s atmosphere was lively and vibrant, the atmosphere here is much more quiet and subdued.
After perhaps a half-hour or so of walking, you soon reach a sprawling square plaza. Throughout the area, small clusters of people gather close together, stuffing their hands in their pockets as they engage in quiet conversation. Several guards hover around the edges of the plaza and a gray tabby cat rests nearby, its bright yellow eyes seeming to watch over the crowd.
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Dalen approaches the guards with a smile and a cheerful demeanor.
"Hellloooo~! My companions and I are Pathfinders and are looking for a Ms. Zeeva Foxglove, and we were informed that we should ask the guard where she is by Lady Meidmarch. Would you be so kind as so show us where we could find Ms. Foxglove," she asks.
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Guillaume knew little of Korvosa, he had thought to familiarise himself with Varisian life in Magnimar... but that wasn't to be his destiny. Instead, he was here - where the mood of the people seemed dank and any polite smile from the inquisitor was received with a scowl - at best. Still, at least the atmosphere hadn't dampened Dalen's demeanour...
Guillaume smiled as he added a few compliments about the locale,
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Eamon found his walk to be a little wobbly after several days at sea. Dry land felt foreign after a week walking on swaying decks. But still the trip was surprisingly enjoyable. Although, captain Fessender never invited Eamon to a private dinner, he was not in the least offended. She often had several of their group to dinner during their voyage and Eamon managed to secure a seat at the Captain's table every night except the first when, he found himself compelled to stay near the rails above deck because, the contents of his stomach couldn't seem to agree. But, after a day's acclimation aboard the vessel, he found the journey tolerable if not cramped. Fessender's stories were as charming as he might have imagined and the other members of his party proved themselves capable in helping the crew of a sailing vessel, where they could.
Eamon even chuckled to himself as he recalled the "privacy" partition placed by the two female members of the group, in their mutual quarters. As if they didn't notice the sizable hole near bottom left! Ha! just like the females of Taldor; all woman were always trying to lure a man with their wiles! Come to think of it perhaps that country lass was more than she seemed? Nah it was probably the other one! *Pfft!* probably made the hole herself!Well the joke was on them! Eamon only peeked three or four times and one of those times was an accident! Silly women! hah!
As his thoughts wandered he noticed the group had come to a halt near an open air market. Dalen stepped up to speak to some local guardsmen. Eamom looked around and deduced this must be the infamous Green Market. He notices a cat and approaches it with his palm open and attempts to pet it, Hello there Kitty! your a cute little thing. My favored aunt used to have a mouser that looked just like you! Eamon is in a good mood and continues to talk baby talk to the cat as long as it doesn't swipe at him.
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Karayan has kept himself a bit separate during the voyage, only eating sparingly. At night he can often be found on deck, looking at the stars
"Ah yes, good man. We are here on to return a favor from a friend and indeed seek misstress Foxglove. I am Karayan Ionacu, explorer and chronicler." he holds out his hand, which contains a gold coin.
The cat looks up at Eamon as he approaches, yellow eyes regarding him with curiosity. Now that he's a bit closer, Eamon can tell that the cat looks to be female and not a tom. Knowing a little something about cats thanks to years spent playing with the best mouser this side of the Inner Sea, he kneels down and slowly extends a hand for the cat to sniff, which she does. After a moment of contemplation, she seems to find the cleric's presence agreeable and gently bumps her head against his hand - an invitation to pet.
Meanwhile, Dalen and Karayan approach one of the nearby guards to inquire as to Ms. Foxglove's whereabouts. As they do, his eyes spark with recognition. "Oh yeah! So you're the ones Miss Zeeva was expecting then?" he asks as he looks Dalen up and down and then does the same with the rest of the group. "Yeah, she told us she had some important guests coming from the Pathfinder Society but that she'd know when you showed up, somehow." He shrugs. "Didn't make much sense to me but I guess you'd best wait right here for her." He regards the shiny gold coin sitting in Karayan's palm for a moment and then sighs. "Can't believe I'm saying this but keep your gold, son. All I did was pass along a message. Guess she wanted to save you folks some legwork of wandering around looking for her," he adds in a quieter tone.
As if suddenly seeing something new and more interesting than the cleric, Eamon's new feline friend gives his hand one last bump with her head and then scampers away down a side street.
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After just a few minutes, the party's patience is rewarded as a large-eyed woman in a green gown strolls into the square from the same side street that the cat had disappeared down earlier. She waves when she sees you and strides over, with the very same gray tabby trotting close behind her. "I owe you an explanation," she says as she hands each of party a card bearing her name, 'Zeeva Foxglove' and the address of the Green Market in the South Shore district. "But let us travel as we walk, for my market cannot do without me for long. I'm thankful that my message was received by Sheila and that she was able to send you to me as quickly as she did," she continues as she beckons the party to follow her back in the direction that she'd came from.
"I know it sounds positively ridiculous, but there are actually three disasters waiting to strike, not just the one," she explains as she sets out into a brisk walk, slipping gracefully past the crowds and carriages. "It began after I heard about a Varisian caravan parked outside the city. The vagabonds had lost everything to bandits and my marketplace is so profitable now that I can afford to share my bounty with those whom fate mistreats. I brought them some produce in and return, their fortune-teller offered me a Harrow reading." Though continuing to walk, Zeeva's rosy complexion pales as she recounts the tale. "The spread foretold good fortune, almost to excess - that is, until she turned up the Yellow Prophet. If you're unfamiliar with the Harrow the Yellow Prophet is a legendary lost card, though I myself didn't know that at the time. Its appearance upset the fortune-teller and she said that its presence required that three more cards be drawn and she did so hastily, giving my hardly any insight as to their meanings."
Now Zeeva stops and turns to the party, a look of the utmost seriousness and sincerity on her face. "What I've learned since is that each of those cards portends a dark fate - a disaster." She produces a small deck of cards from her handbag. "It seemed as if that fortune-teller was hiding something and so I procured my own harrow deck and did some research into the cards' meanings. But I'm still largely in the dark and my own auguries tell me that time is running out. That's why I sent to Sheila for aid; I need brave investigators, ones well-versed in the arcane, to determine where and when these calamities will strike. Or failing that, track down this fortune-teller so that she can explain her strange behavior."
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Eamon walks with Miss Zeeva hastily through the various stalls. He looks down at the cat trailer Zeeva's feet and says, Appears you are owed some catnip? Let me attend to your mother then you and I will settle accounts ..deal? Eamon winks at the Feline and quickens his pace to keep of with her surprisingly fast owner. As Zeeva relates her story of Gypsies and fortune tellers Eamon's mirth disappears. A disapproving scowl covers his face by the time Zeeva is through relying her story and Eamon is in a decidedly sour mood.
How could Venture Captain Heidmarch send us on such a fools errand? Is this a test? A joke? Some sort of hazing ritual for new Pathfinders? Harrow cards! Fortune Tellers portents of disaster!!! Indeed!...What non-sense! Without realizing it...Eamon lets a disbelieving *Pfft!* in front of Miss Zeeva. He hurriedly tries to cover his faux pas by quickly interjecting, Sorry my lady, I'm not doubting your re-call of events.. I'm just doubting the veracity of the Varisian, Charl...um..fortune teller...whom may have her own reasons to portend disaster to your fair city. Eamon is satisfied that he covered his slip quickly enough. However, his eyes remain fixed on Zeeva, in order to gauge if he'd done in lasting damage to her relationship with the Pathfinder Society. After all Eamon..Crazy or not..this woman is a valuable resource to "The Society" and a personal friend of Sheila Heidmarch!
No mater if these threats of disaster are real or not...we will of coarse aid you in locating this frau..um this ..apparent Fortune Teller, and get her to reveal the meaning of all these.. Eamon's speech skips just a moment wanting to mouth the word lies but instead says, ..and get her to reveal the meaning of all these...riddles. It is our duty as Pathfinders to explore, report, and cooperate...and will will do our duty! Eamon manages to smile at the last part as he opens his hand and spreads his left arm to include the others as part of his statement. Inside however, a battle of resentment and pity was brewing in Eamon at having been given such a ludicrous assignment.
Zeeva stops and gives Eamon a piercing look. "I realize that it all might sound a bit far-fetched, Master...?" She stops, suddenly looking a little embarrassed. "Forgive me, I've been so focused on my own worries that I didn't even to stop to ask you your names."
Once introductions have been made, she turns her attention back to Eamon once more. "As I was saying, I'm aware that this might seem as though we're playing a practical joke. But...well, most people are not aware of this but I'm something of a witch. Through my dreams and auguries, I've confirmed that something dire is just on the horizon."
She chuckles ruefully. "Sadly, as anyone who has studied dreams might know, they don't do a very good job of explaining themselves in a way that makes sense to the average person. And so while I know that something dreadful is bound to happen, I'm woefully in the dark as to the where, when, and how."
Zeeva doesn't seem offended or especially surprised to be encountering some doubt from some of you but she's also not lying about anything that she's shared and her concern seems legitimate.
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Forgive me, I've been so focused on my own worries that I didn't even to stop to ask you your names."
There is nothing to Forgive, my lady..it is I who hath offended. I am Eamon Valda of Taldor. I am of a house of no consequence, so I won't bore you with hereditary titles. I beseech however, to please forgive my doubt. The society ladies in my homeland, often played with Ouji boards and Harrow decks for amusement. In their little parlors, they sometimes, took delight in scarring the little ones with false prophecies and other such nonsense. Eamon's voice cracks a bit, betraying what might be a relaying, of a personal experience. Despite my misgivings, we are Pathfinders , and we have a duty to serve when and where bidden, by our lawful superiors. Eamon says that last bit with pride. So please, point us in the direction you would like us to investigate first, and we will do our best to un-cover this mystery.
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Out of the corner of her mouth, Dalen whispers to Shelya as Eamon recounts some of the pastimes of Taldane noblewomen.
"I am so glad my aunt and uncle took care of most of my raising," she tells her, standing on her toes for a moment to reach the taller woman's ear.
"Dalen Stonestep, ma'am," she introduces herself when it comes her time, "and yes, it is a boy's name. My father fancied himself a better diviner than he actually is. The fact that I was born a girl nearly drove him mad."
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Guillaume is quiet throughout the introductions, wincing inside as Eamon lets slip his quite obvious opinion about those who would call themselves tellers of fortune, and only speaks to confirm his name and that he is, of course, enchanted to make Zeeva Foxglove's acquaintance. Already though, he has misgivings about the whole venture... a harrower predicting disaster? Not once but thrice? ...and, on what must surely be naught more than 'a feeling' the Society has committed a good handful of folk to investigate... still, here they were and they had their instructions, "Madam, it would be our honour to assist you in this matter"
...and who amongst us has knowledge of the arcane or the occult?
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Does things look so grim, and so inevitable? Do you have any clues about the dangers we could face? I'm not very familiar with Harrowing, but I guess that if it has been used by humans for quite a long time, it's because it have its successes.
The dwarf puff himself
My name is Eredur Smagg, the Younger. I do know a thing or two about arcane matters. What I don't know is how much I still have to learn.
All that you really know about the Harrow is that its a method of divination widely used by many Varisian fortune-tellers, usually with a special harrow deck and sometimes the Harrowing spell itself. By these means, the reader is said to be able to receive small bits of information about what has occured, what is happening, and what will come to pass in the future.
"It is nice to meet you," Zeeva says with a small smile as introductions are made. "If only it were under more favorable circumstances! But I'm afraid the fates seem to have deemed that I only meet any of Sheila's agents in the most trying of times," she continues, her smile now rueful. When Eamon apologizes for his earlier doubts, Zeeva holds up her hand. "No, no, I understand...I can see that many of you are not from Varisia and so it's only natural that the Harrow holds little meaning for you," she replies with a shake of her head. "What's important to me is that each of you are here and still willing to help investigate these dark matters."
Zeeva begins shuffling through the harrow deck she holds in her hands. "As for where to start, I believe there are two options. One is to attempt to track down my mysterious fortune-teller and see if she'll explain herself. The second would be to try and divine some sort of meaning from the three additional cards that she drew for me." After a few moments, her shuffling is complete and she has three cards held separate from the rest, which she hands to you.
"These three: the Betrayal, the Cricket, and the Unicorn."
Gesturing to each in turn, Zeeva shares what little she knows about each card and it's meaning. "Harrow cards can be tricky: an ominous card isn't always negative and a cheery card can turn calamitous. For example, the Betrayal can represent selfishness *or* self-sacrifice, or a choice between the two," she explains. "The Cricket is a card for quick-witted travelers, some of whom find glory while others return empty-handed. And the Unicorn promises rewards from a friend, but...sadly, some friends are false and some prizes are poison. However, instead of their traditional meanings it's possible that each card is meant to have a connection to a specific person or place here in Korvosa."
She chuckles. "Clear as mud, isn't it? Still, perhaps the six of you might catch something that I've overlooked."
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You know that the Betrayal is also known as "Viamio's Kiss" among Korvosan harrowers, named after Lord Amrys Viamio, the city's most infamous traitor. Only one building in Korvosa still bears his legacy: Traitor's Mews, a dilapidated manor in Old Korvosa.
You recognize the icons on this card as the symbols of Desna - stars, moons, and planets - all of which figure prominently in the architecture of Kendall Amphitheater, the city's largest performance venue.
You know that in the Heights District, noble foreigners flock to a bed-and-breakfast called the Frisky Unicorn, hoping to catch a glimpse of the pseudodragons that nest in the turret.
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Eamon clearly remembers the old hags his mother invited to her parlor. His family was upper-middle class stock that had bought their way in to minor nobility. His father held the minor Bey title but there was a question if he could even pass it on to Eamon's older brother Talud. Eamon knew that any title he ever got he'd have to earn. That's why he joined the Clergy of Iomedea; Eamon realized later, when it was clear the path to advancement was through piety or well placed connections, that perhaps the church of Iomedae wasn't the only Path to betterment..thus the Pathfinders.. Eamon shakes his head to clear the cobwebs of reminiscence. He focuses in on Zeeva's words and tries to concentrate recalling the game that those mean little woman used to play and tease him with every Fireday afternoon, for three years of his adolescent life . His mother always was upwardly mobile and never rebuked their taunts even once.
Clear as mud, isn't it? Still, perhaps the six of you might catch something that I've overlooked.
Eamon examines the cards as they are passed around they seem familiar in an uncomfortable way.
He first looks closely at The BetrayalRealizing the cards bring up uncomfortable memories; Eamon says a short prayer to Iomedea before looking at the other two
Next Eamon looks at The Cricket However, the trouble memories of the skinny wealthy laddies teasing him with the beggar card still flood his mind and he can recall nothing useful about this damned cricket card!
Lastly Eamon says his prayer then, impatiently grabs The Unicorn out of Dalen's hands and takes a quick glance
Eamon is about to pass on the card in disgust when he visualizes a swinging sign dancing in the wind..Wasn't there a place I passed last time I was here? Where was I ..the heights district? Eamon slowly passes the card on and mumbles to himself for a moment before speaking. He then looks shyly at Zeeva and says... I don't know if this means anything but,...I visited Korsovo a few years back on a church mission. Some fellow parishioners and myself were in the heights district and I recall passing an establishment that had a Unicorn on the sign...I only remember because one of the Friars mentioned that the establishment was famous for a family of pseudo-dragons that nested in their turret..It's probably nothing ..um sorry but it's all I could think of..these cards bring up..un-pleasant memories. Eamon's shoulders slump in defeat and he turns his eyes to the ground.
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Guillaume truly has little knowledge of the Harrow, certainly he has heard tales of Varisian travelling caravans and of the folk that ply their fortune-telling skills as they move between the cities but he has never before seen the cards that are used. Taking the cards from Eamon and then passing them on, Guillaume comments on the artistry much as Karayan does...
Interested that one of the cards has resonated a little with Eamon, Guillaume watches to see if he will tell more...
Although Shelya had been quieter than usual since the group arrived in Korvosa, she too studies the cards with interest. It only takes a few moments of study for her to shake her head and pass the Unicorn card to someone else but as she studies the Cricket, she hems and haws and almost seems on the verge of a breakthrough, when...
"Drat!" she exclaims, throwing her hands up and looking rather put out. "I thought I almost had something but I simply cannot make the last connection!"
"Don't fret," Zeeva smiles, giving Shelya a sympathetic pat on the shoulder and nodding to Dalen. "Thanks to Master Valda, you've all already learned something that I wasn't able to piece together - and any progress is better than none at all! The place he mentioned is called the Frisky Unicorn, a little bed-and-breakfast establishment. Although this turn is strange even to me, it might bear further investigation. And perhaps uncovering the meaning behind one card will lead to the next, in some manner?"
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Eamon looks up in delight... you mean that non-sense I recalled may actually be helpful! Who would have thought a few friars and their trivial dalliances could lead to such!! Eamon shuts his mouth embarrassed he said too much..He is still obviously beaming that is information could prove helpful though.
"Er...yes, well, it's always amazing what sorts of destinations a particular road can lead to," Zeeva responds a bit awkwardly, pointedly not delving further into Eamon's slip of the tongue.
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Eamon looks around impatient wondering what's next after a few awkward moments of silence he addresses Dalen's comment:
"Well, do we try to find the fortune teller or visit the Frisky Unicorn? I think we should try the fortune teller first. I doubt a building is going to grow legs and scamper off"
Well that's all fine and good..but where do we begin to search for the fortune teller? Is there a fortune teller district in the city? Should we give a coin or two to the local town-crier asking all Fortune tellers to assemble in front of our Inn? Eamon didn't want to..but, he couldn't help being sarcastic. The trip by boat had already been long and breakfast was hours ago. As if to emphasize the point, Eamon's stomach growls just a bit at thought of food. I've an idea! Eamon says with some enthusiasm. This investigation is sure to take a couple of days. I say we check in with the local Pathfinder lodge and get some sleeping quarters assigned to us. While there, we could ask the local Pathfinders where we might be the best place to locate a wayward Fortune teller in Korsovo! Eamon seems very proud and confident in his suggestion and adds almost as an after thought, We could even visit the lodge's dinning hall while we were there. Everybody's gotta eat after all!