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A counterpoint to Darksid'Ious's charm, Yangrit's expression is the very epitome of "constantly grumpy". She is an utterly unremarkable looking dwarf, with dark brown hair and eyes and ruddy, pale brown skin. No armor protects her frame, though perhaps the bracers at her wrists and the amulet hanging from her neck may serve that purpose. Her demeanor is gruff; her words are as concise and accurately articulated as possible when more is required of her than a simple grunt.
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A young man sits quietly head bowed, eyes closed. He might be sleeping, but for his lips moving in a mouthed prayer. He is dressed in white robes, clean and pressed. They almost seem strange on his weathered, sun tanned frame as if he has not worn them in a while. He has olive shin and dark wavey hair that is in need of a trim. His arms are folded but one calloused and scarred hand is rubbing on a wooden amulet, obviously a religious symbol of some sort.
After sometime, he looks up with a smile, "Apparently, I am to continue my period of wandering, and what better place than here with you all, my new friends." saying in a thick Isgarian accent. "I am Lybram Tendras, a humble acolyte of Erastil, at your service."
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A young woman arrives to meet the team. Her build suggests she is a half-elf or a slim human, but her almond-shaped eyes tell she's a full elf. Her white clothes and dark hair act as a canvas for colourful, carefully arranged accessories, and even the assortment of weapons she carries blend in to complete the outfit. Under the clothes she wears a breastplate, and a flute is tucked in her belt.
"Everyone else is already here? I am so delighted! I am Miriel Magol, and I am helping the cause of the Pathfinders by bringing the love and art of Shelyn to the expeditions", she introduces herself with a reserved, but friendly voice. She nods and smiles to everyone in turn, starting with Lybram. "I am certain our different views and skills bring the mission, the society and the world much value and delight". Finally, her eyes end up on Darksid'Ious's symbol, and the smile disappears from her face. "How... I mean, we use... whatever our god gives, for, good", she stutters, trying to stay calm.
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Great. The only other female is an elf. Yangrit's scowl deepens as she gives the female elf the silent treatment for a few minutes until she forces herself to remember that the Pathfinder Society requires cooperation. An idealistic goal. Fine. Grrrrr. Her chin jerks upward in a curt half-nod as she gruffly introduces herself. "Ahem. I am Yangrit Foehammer." Her words are precisely enunciated. It seems this dwarf may have a rod up her shirt, so to speak.
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Greataxe in hand, Graff raises it in greeting.
"I am Graff Leogil in service to the big guy." holy symbol hangind over his neck shows him to be a priest in the service of Rovagug.
"I'm a man of simple pleasures but I'll try my best to be of help to sll of you." shoulder pauldrons over a pair of powerful shoulders with arms to match and a broad chest. Graff isn't shy about the series of battle scars over his body and seems to display it over the chainmail cut for optimal movement.
"Oi, you," the junior agent delivering this week's mail calls as you wander around the grounds of the Grand Lodge, "Ya've got a letter."
A letter read and several days of travel later, an ill wind stirs whitecaps on the dark Jeggare River, carrying with it the faint odor of spoiled meat. Travelers crossing High Bridge into Korvosa grumble and pull their collars up against the cold. Past the somber city gates is 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. A gray tabby cat rests nearby, its bright yellow eyes seeming to watch over the crowd.
This, of course, is Eodred's Square in the city of Korvosa, where you were ordered to travel by Venture-Captain Sheila Heidmarch of Magnimar. Now, all that remains for you to start your mission in earnest is for you to find this person the venture-captain mentioned: Zeeva Foxglove.
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"I know the greatest stories have pain and destruction in them, but actively causing them?" Miriel still mutters to herself, eyeing Darksid'Ious and Graff, when the team arrives to Korvosa. When Darksid'Ious introduces himself, Miriel snaps out of her thoughts: "Oh, yes." She quickly straightens herself, and continues in a pleasant if reserved tone: "Zeeva is a beloved friend and has personally asked from my superior if we had the possibility to come to her aid. Would you be most kind and give us any information about her whereabouts? If knowing my name is of any assistance, it is Miriel Magol, and I am a servant of the Eternal Rose."
As Darksid'lous and Miriel explain to the guard that they are looking for Zeeva Foxglove, the cat rises to its feet and scampers off. Meanwhile, the guard explains, “Zeeva Foxglove told us that she had important guests coming from the Pathfinder Society. She assured us that she would know when they arrived in this square. Don’t really understand it myself, but I suggest waiting right here until she shows up.”
Within a few minutes, a large-eyed woman in a green gown waves, and then introduces herself by handing out cards bearing her name—Zeeva Foxglove—and the address of the Green Market in South Shore. A cat bearing a striking resemblance to the one that rested on the square’s cobbles walks alongside her. “I owe you an explanation,” she says, “But let us travel as we talk, for my market cannot do without me for long. I know it sounds ridiculous, but there are actually three disasters waiting to strike.”
The merchant walks briskly, 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, I can afford to share my bounty with those whom fate mistreats. I brought them some produce, and in return, their fortune-teller offered me a harrow reading.”
Foxglove’s rosy complexion pales. “The spread foretold good fortune, almost to excess—that is, until she turned up The Yellow Prophet. A legendary lost card, although I didn’t know that then. Its appearance upset the soothsayer. She said the card required that three more cards be drawn, and she did so hastily, giving me hardly any insight. What I’ve learned since is that each of those cards portends a dark fate—a disaster.”
She produces a deck of cards from her handbag. “It seemed the fortune-teller was hiding something, so I obtained my own harrow deck and researched the cards’ meanings. But I am still in the dark, and my own auguries tell me that time is running short. I need brave investigators, well-versed in the arcane, to determine where these calamities will strike—or, failing that, track down that fortune-teller, so that she can explain her strange behavior.”
Zeeva slows slightly as the group draws nearer the Green Market, and she turns to you, "Now, I must return to work soon, but if you have any questions, I would be glad to answer them for you."
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"I agree, this amount of information is not what I would expect when starting an investigation. Anything that you could share with us about the nature of the prophesied disasters would be helpful. I would presume the images hint what kind of disaster is to be expected, but I am also interested in what the harrower told about who the disasters concern? Are they to fall on you, or the city, or the world?" Miriel adds to the inquiries.
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I'm not well versed in divination magic nor card reading. Can you explain to us what are the exact meaning of the three cards she shows you?
And do you know more about this Yellow Prophet's lost card?
And I agree with my comrades, Yangrit and Miriel, what can we do exactly for you?
Asks Darksid'Ious
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"I guess we are walking to your place of business to talk more privately?" "As for helping, I will gladly help. It sounds like the whole community could be in danger."
Lybram, scratches his chin and smiles to the lady.
"Yep, I think we track down the fortune teller. It is our best option from the choices you mentioned."
"Who else saw her and might know where to find this fortune teller?
A little further on, Lybram continues as another thought hits him."Have you tried consulting an expert? We could find and talk with a harrow deck expert. Any ideas where we could find one?
Zeeva apologizes for the scarce information, “Unfortunately, that's the way of things with the Harrow sometimes. The answers aren't always clear at first. I do think you're right to want to find the fortune-teller first, though. Unfortunately, she and her troupe vanished into Korvosa days ago. They could be anywhere. Maybe ask around? She cut a memorable figure—a Varisian half-elf with scraggly black hair and rotting teeth. I'm afraid she never gave me a name, though.”
Turning to Graff, she offers as much of an explanation as she can, "I can't predict anything for certain, but I do have a very strong sense that something is coming. Few people know this, but I’m something of a witch. Through dreams and auguries, I’ve confirmed that something dire is just on the horizon. I just don’t know what or where it will happen.
"As for the cards, the Yellow Prophet is a chilling card, and not one that appears in a standard harrow deck. It depicts a fortune-teller, clad in black and yellow. My research says it signifies false presumptions and self-fulfilling prophecies. There’s no copy of it in my current deck, but I’d love to find that fortune-teller to study it in depth.”
Zeeva draws out her harrow deck to show the party the cards that she feels portend the disasters, “I have them here. Harrow cards can be tricky: an ominous card isn’t always negative, and a cheery card can turn calamitous. Instead of relying on their traditional meanings, I’m guessing the cards have connections to people or places in Korvosa. The fortune-teller didn't tell give me any insight into their meaning when they came up in my reading. Maybe you can catch something I’ve overlooked?
"That's what I need your help for--either help me to determine where these disasters will strike and work to stop them, or at least to help me find the fortune-teller so she can tell us more."
She pulls out three cards and shows them to the party. "These are the cards. Here, see if you notice anything about them. Something similar between all three maybe? Study their names, the illustrations. At this point, I've been studying them for so long, I can hardly think straight."
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Lybram studies the cards.
"The betrayal, the cricket and the unicorn are all interesting but I am not seeing any disaster clues there." "Lots of things oozing in them though."
"Where did you say the fortune teller was when she read your fortune? I think if we ask around in that area maybe someone will know where she went."
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"Beautiful craftmanship, the care the artist has given for these must be appreciated. I am certain that they are all made by the same artist, the line use is so similar", Miriel starts to analyze the cards.
"The arrangement on these two", she says pointing to the Cricket and the Unicorn, "is similar. Also, the colours tie together nicely. The Betrayal is however quite different, even the direction of the flow doesn't feel the same as in the two other ones. If they were a story, the Cricket and the Unicorn flow right, which feels like moving forward, but Betrayal moves clearly left. Even when we look at the overall structure, the Betrayal stands out as everything is tied into the central figure, there is no environment".
Zeeva nods vigorously at Miriel's appreciation and analysis of the cards, "Yes, isn't it interesting how the cards seems to work together to play out some kind of story? The Betrayal is particularly interesting in that sense. From what I understand of the cards at this point, it can either mean selfishness or self-sacrifice or a choice between the two. So maybe that has something to do with the direction it's meant to flow...”
Turning to Lybram, Zeeva explains that she met with the fortune-teller and her caravan outside the city, after they had been attacked by bandits. There might still be some people in the area, but the fortune-teller herself has already moved into the city and apparently disappeared.
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The sourpuss scowl on Yangrit's face appears deeper than normal. She seems unenthusiastic about the cards, though she does make a point to look at them.
It is just a load of rubbish. Not holding to superstition herself, rather being contemptuous about it, she is having the hardest time hiding her feelings and refraining from giving offense to Zeeva. Grunting, she suggests: "Let us go find this fortune teller. It should not be too difficult. How many Varisian half-elf fortune tellers with scraggly black hair and rotting teeth can there be?" For the most part, she manages to keep the sarcasm from dripping through her voice, though it is on full display in her thoughts. She sounds like a real winner.
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"Well, yes they all have fruit. Is there a market around here that sells fruit. Maybe a plague or disease will be introduced into the city by fruit?" "Let's go check with fruit fenders at the market."
"Even half elf Varisian women with scraggly black hair and bad teeth have to eat. Maybe we will run into her at the market." "Anyway, this fruit talk is making me hungry."
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"The fruit does not necessarily mean a fruit. It may well be standing for something else, a metaphor of some kind, or trying to indicate something that is common with fruits. I have often seen them in wedding art, and there they indicate hope for children", Miriel continues her artistic interpretation.
"Still, it may be wiser to begin with the least abstracted ideas and work from there towards the metaphorical ones. A market or a garden would be my first guess here, if our esteemed host doesn't have any connections with fruits"
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"All right, folks." Yangrit feels like she's in a meeting with the most easily sidetracked people ever. She swallows her exasperation, wise enough to know that lacing her words with it would be dysfunctional, and continues: "Standing around talking is getting us nowhere. It is time for action. We will look for this fortune teller, checking the marketplace in Korvosa first. Follow me!" She immediately begins striding away, assuming the others will follow.
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"Good plan and maybe we'll find those evil fruits!" Graff declares as he follows suit.
"Also..." as he turns to Mirel, [/b]"Doesn't Creation comes after Destruction? Got to destroy so that one can create isn't it?"[/b] he scratches his chin as he continues his stride.
"or at least the big guy's text was something about it."
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Miriel starts to slip from her reserved tone to one with slight annoyance: "No, no. Yes, there is a cycle in life, but all starts with creation! You cannot bring anything new by destruction or pain". Her gaze goes from Graff to Darksid'Ious and back.
When Yangrit declares her intentions and walks off, Miriel recomposes herself, and straightens her dress a bit. "Yes, she's right. Let us concentrate on our current assignment, and help these people so they can avoid their prophesied misfortune", she says and goes after Yangrit.
While walking, she returns to the argument with a promise, or a threat: "After this mission, I will take you to play music, or a concert. And then, we will go painting. You will see the joy." She points at Dark'Sidious and Graff. Then she faces the others, smiles, and nods to them: "You are of course free to join".
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I found joy in Pain and Pain in beauty. But I will certainly enjoy being with you all.
...? ...Hmph. The feeling's mutual, elf. Yangrit's glower deepens as she stumps along with the group catching up to her. She glances around to get her bearings in the unfamiliar city. Now that she's taken the lead, it would be quite embarrassing to lead the group the wrong way.
Curtly grunting, Yangrit gestures to the human cleric: "Lybram, ask for directions. I would do so myself, but people tend to dislike my manner." At least the human seems like a mostly sensible sort.