Memories of your past, realities of your present, and fears and hopes for your future suddenly overwhelm you with a torrent of emotion. So many choices you’ve made! So many more to go! Do they even matter? Are your choices yours, or are they always what you’d choose? Do you have a fate that’s set in stone, or do you get to decide your future? Suddenly, you’re standing on a street corner—one you somehow know is in the Grand Bazaar within the city of Absalom. Before you is a wooden building flanked by a flower shop and an open-air meat vendor. A sign above the building’s door reads “Three Moves Ahead,” and déjà vu washes over you. You’ve never been here... or have you? Will you? Should you? A blood-curdling scream shatters the building and, after a brief sense of pain and loss, the vision fades. As your senses return, you realize that clutched in your hand is something new. A single beautifully illustrated harrow card. You don’t remember finding it, but you instinctively know it has always been yours. Though you only now hold it, your fate has been tied to it for a long time...
Part 1: The Choosing
Chapter 1: Luck of the Draw
Absalom! The City at the Center of the World! It has stood at the geographic and metaphorical fulcrum of Inner Sea intrigue for 5 millennia. Indeed, Absalom’s continual influence has shaped not only the face of the planet but the very nature of the cosmos. In Absalom, a person can be whatever and whoever they want, and for the right price, it is said, they can procure anything in its grand markets.
You have traveled from far and wide to reach the city, following the strange vision in the hopes of learning more about it and the strange Harrow card that suddenly appeared in your possession one day not too long ago.
The Starstone is the heart of Absalom, but commerce is its blood. Nowhere does that blood flow more freely than in the Coins. Carts full of goods, busy vendors, and merchants dressed in their finest clothes crowd the district from daybreak until well after dark, and the sights, sounds, and smells of the Coins can be overwhelming to out-of-town visitors. The Grand Bazaar in the center of the district draws shoppers from throughout the Inner Sea region in search of surprising bargains, one-of-a-kind services, and rare commodities.
This massive plaza at the heart of the Coins is one of the largest open markets in the Inner Sea region. The Grand Bazaar is a microcosm of the economic diversity of the Coins as a whole, with rag vendors’ carts parked rows away from pavilions dealing in Minkan silks. The crowded booths, ramshackle shops, and fragrant stalls of the market are constantly changing, but you follow the directions imparted to you by the vision, and soon enough, you find yourself at your destination.
The wooden builidng, flanked by a flower shop and an open-air meat vendor, is caught between smells both floral and savory. A sign above the door reads “Three Moves Ahead,” with images of dice and game pawns. The shop appears to be closed.
But as you arrive, you realize you are not here alone. Three other individuals are emerging from the crowd at the same time as you. Three others, you instinctually realize, whose destinies are now intertwined with your own...
A solidly built, elderly dwarf tugs on one side of his substantial mustache as he stares at the closed door of the shop. Sharp, unfaded tattoos decorate his shaven scalp, and the inkwork crawls down to his collar and emerges on both brawny arms. The worls and lines of the tattoos swim a bit before the eye, giving the impression that they might rearrange themselves while no one is looking.
"Vashta, my lass, we're here," the dwarf remarks to the young woman that stands nearby. "But it seems we're not expected. Closed!"
The man looks away from the shuttered shop, and his craggy face breaks into a grin at the sight of the other travelers recently arrived at Three Moves ahead. "Ah! But here's a pleasant surprise." He calls out to his old traveling companions, separated by several years now, "Old friends!"
Clover's smile widens at the sight of the dwarf and the human woman.
"Hello, Targrish. Hello, Vashta," she says with a nod towards each of them.
The android's choice of clothes hasn't changed since they last saw her. Plain, but well-made garments that conceal her form, leaving the observer trying to determine if this is a man or a woman, human, elf, or something else entirely.
Her golden eyes display her pleasure as she pulls back her hood to reveal that something has changed, at least. Where her hair previously had been light brown and kept shorn close to her scalp, it's now shoulder-length and a striking cyan. The color is matched on her lips which smile towards the tiefling that approaches - another friend that's been missed.
Surmising the circumstances that brought them all here at the same time, Clover holds up a Harrow card - The Empty Throne.
"I would conjecture that each of you have something similar?" she offers.
Vashta wipes the goo from her face and clothes, frowning slightly. "I just so love extraplanar travel, dear," she says to Targrish. "But still better than that trip to Holomog."
The brightly clad Varisian turns at her dwarven companion's words.
"Well, speak of the devils, and they appear. Hello, darling!" she embraces Clover, kissing the android's cheeks. "Not a devil at all, of course, but I didn't expect to see you here ..."
She pulled her Brass Dwarf from a pocket and holds it up.
"But maybe it was in the cards." She looks at the closed door. "And, of course. My reading this morning was The Locksmith -- the keys we need to unlock his fate. One of my favorite cards, of course. I think we may be having to enter on our own."
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The Coins! Aicard can't help but scowl at the aptly-named neighborhood. Not for the fact that the Coins is a hotbed for shady dealings and unbridled greed, but because the name reminds him of the fact his coin purse might very well be an empty purse if he doesn't find a gig soon. If Aicard wasn't such a morally sound individual, the district's desire for gold and profit might have just taken root in his soul as he walked through the busy streets to a destination he both knows and doesn't know.
The Gods know he has the talent and ability to make a coin. If only he wasn't even more talented at spending them. At least I look like a man who knows how to spend gold. Fabulous from hoof to horn, I'm the one mothers warn their daughters about.
It's when he goes around the final bend toward his destination that Aicard is greeted by a sight that he can hardly believe! Targrish! Clover in Spring! Vashta! By the Nine Hells, what otherworldly siren's song has lured the lot of them to this derelict building? Hoofbeats sing a song of genuine excitement as the tiefling darts forward to greet his old friends.
"Ha!", Aicard exclaims as he attempts to embrace everyone at once. "Was it you, Targrish, who sent me that beautiful harrow card? If you wanted to meet up, you could've just, you know, shoot me a sending spell of sorts!" But when everyone shows the card they were 'gifted', Aicard sobers up and his exuberance quickly vanishes. The tiefling's face, kissed by crimson lips and shaped with an abyssal chisel, hasn't aged much since the last time they saw him. He raises an oversized hand to his chin as a pair of blood-red eyes inspect the Three-Moves-Ahead. "Gods, this is too heavy. I think I need a drink first."
"Aicard, dear, I hardly ever say no to a drink but I think we might have more pressing matters to attend to," Vashta replies, glancing meaningfully at the shop.
She looks around.
The shop should be open at this time of day. Listening closely, you can hear movement from within the building.
"Someone's in there," Vashta says. "And considering this morning's reading, perhaps we should join them. Targrish, if you would be so kind? And while you do, I think it's time for another friend to join us."
She concentrates quickly before the dwarf can do anything, and suddenly it looks like another woman -- blonde, blue-eyed, clearly an Ulfen of some sort -- is standing there. It appears that Vashta's tendency to not reveal her true self -- a tendency you all know well from your time together -- has not changed.
She then closes her eyes, and when she opens them six seconds later, her pupils have been replaced, looking like faintly glowing crowns. At her side, a dragon appears!
"Well. Well, well, well," the dragon -- a monstrous creature of silver, with blue glowing veins and a glowing crown that matches Vashta's pupils -- grates. "Old acquaintances. Where have you brought us now, child?"
"Now, later, tomorrow, it seems that fate has intended for me to drink my beer whenever I want to." And with Aicard having lost his mug of everflowing ale, fate clearly did not intend for him to drink any right now. Begrudgingly, he gives in. "Fine." Wait - where and when did he lose his magical mug? The tiefling scowls at the blasted building as if it were to blame for his current state of sobriety.
While (or, if) Targrish deals with the door, Aicard greets Vashta's scaly extension. "It's nice to you see too." There's no sarcasm detection spell needed here. Now, more so curious than angry, he eyes the building once again. The images of dice and pawn games intrigue him, even though he's more into card games that involve alcohol and pieces of clothing that go missing. "Absalom, that's where we are. And this here establishment, the Three-Moves-Ahead, is where we were meant to meet up - again. I hope that answers your question because it's all I got."
"Right to the center of the world, you old scoundrel." Targrish jokes with the Tyrant, whose tail he enjoys pulling.
[b]"Have a drink ready for all of us, Aicard. I didn't send you that card, and who knows who sent me this one." The dwarf slips The Rabbit Prince out of his sleeve, shows it to the companions, then tucks it away while he retrieves his lockpicking tools.
The door to the shop is not locked, but it is slightly stuck. Targrish gives it a sturdy shove and the door gives way.
The shop consists of a single wide room. A few shelves hold dice games and card decks, while private gaming rooms to the west sit beyond open curtains. Chalk lines cover the floor of the room, some of them smeared beneath the body and blood of a dead Varisian woman.
Standing near the body is a ram-headed devil with flesh and wings of rusted metal. Further back is a larger, skeletal fiend with a long, scorpionlike tail. The devils hesitate only a moment before sprinting into action!
Targrish hisses as he recognizes a fiendish threat, "Clear off, devil. We've business here, and it doesn't concern you!"
He pulls a kukri and brandishes the amulet that hangs around his neck, one side polished to a mirror sheen, one decorated with a thick web of crisscrossing iridescent lines.
The dwarf's form seems to waver as the amulet resonates.
Aicard's ugly side rears its head when he sees the devils. "Back to the pit with you!", he roars in righteous anger. The anger causes his mouth to fill with wickedly sharp teeth that grow to monstrous size in only a matter of seconds.
Then, with a quick shake of the wrist, a massive shield appears out of nowhere and the champion raises it. "Stay close to me." Aicard is wearing a fancy set of clothes that do not give you the impression he's dressed for battle - but looks can be deceiving.
Targrish remembers that the devil has a weakness to good damage that he can exploit.
The rust devil flares its wings, sending an rusty iron feather hurtling towards Aicard. The feather sails harmlessly past, embedding itself into the wall of the shop. The devil then enacts a powerful spell, attempting to transform his flesh into rusting metal.
Meanwhile, the bone devil casts a spell, creating a zone of truth within the shop’s entryway. ”What business do you have here?” the fiend demands telepathically.
Aicard is too angry to contain his thoughts and, after shaking off the hostile magics, barks at the devils. "Our business is our own. What are you doing in our world?! Give us one good reason why we shouldn't send you back to Hell!"
He eyes the dead woman, eager to get some answers.
”I’m asking the questions here!” the bone devil insists angrily, refusing to answer Aicard’s inquiry.
The android laughs.
"Why should we answer your questions, fiend? You don't even belong here," she says with a slight smirk. Glancing at Aicard, she shrugs her shoulders. "Any answers we get from it would come with a cost and I would be hesitant to trust them. Should I send it back?"
She raises her hands to cast a spell.
"Oh no, dear, I don't think so. Such a nasty little spell, for a nasty little creature," Vashta replies. "But perhaps we can deal. We'll tell you what we're doing here, if you tell us."
"Bah! No deal. We will just kill you, then, and pry your secrets from your corpses!" the bone devil cackles in your minds. The rust devil seems inclined to agree...
"Come on, Aicard. This will be just like that time in Ostenso!"
With that, Targrish winks, and a copy of him appears next to the rusty devil--or perhaps he teleports there and leaves a copy behind! Either way, he brandishes his amulet and slices at the creature with a razor-sharp kukri.
for + weakness
The dwarf presses his amulet against the devil on the backswing, hoping to hear the sizzle of good damage applied to fiendish flesh.
"... boring conversation anyway ..." Clover mutters to herself before proceeding with her spell.
"Well, that's hardly reasonable, darlings," Vashta chides. "Shocking behavior even, you could say. Speaking of..."
The Harrower casts a spell, sending lightning arcing through the two devils.
As Vashta casts, The Tyrant glides into the room, his sinuous movement belying his deadly intent. He snaps his jaws at the closest of the two.
Aicard had been chomping at the bit from the moment he laid eyes on the fiends and once the violence starts, the tiefling joins the fray with reckless abandon.
Teeth and shield lash out at the rust devil.
The devil resists Clover’s attempt to banish it. Both fiends avoid part of Vashta’s electric arc. The Tyrant misses with his attack. Targrish creates a reflection of himself behind the rust devil and attacks, slicing the fiend and burning it with the holy energy from his amulet!
As the dwarf wounds the devil, it whispers subversive messages to him, trying to make Targrish overconfident.
Aicrad moves up to flank with the reflection, biting the rust devil and bashing it with his shield, which the champion then raises.
The rust devil attacks Targrish, boring and clawing the dwarf!
Meanwhile, the bone devil casts a spell to try to wrack Aicard with illusory pain. Targrish’s mind reels for refusing to answer the fiend’s first question, and now it asks him another: ”Do you possess Harrow cards?”
The tiefling focuses his actions on protecting Targrish and, once the dwarf seems safe enough, for now, returns to pummeling the rust fiend.
Targrish resists the fiendish spell, though he's pretty confident anyway.
"Oh, you want our cards, do you? Well, we've got them and it's going to stay that way."
He wards some of the damage with his amulet, then prepares to attack. With a reliable partner in Aicard, he lets the mirror image dissolve and remains next to the devil.
"Naughty to attack visitors, don't you think?" The dwarf's tattoos writhe and twist, and a sharp look passes between him and the devil.
The dwarf takes some defensive measures and slashes at the devil again.
for + weakness
"Since you've chosen to stay, then revel with us in the holy light of the sun," Clover declares, spreading her palms towards the rust devil. A blast of blinding light focuses on the creature.
"Our cards are our own, not for the likes of The Fiend," The Tyrant grates, lashing out with teeth and claws.
Vashta watches from the doorway, concentrating on strengthening her bond with The Tyrant as she watches to make sure no one else in the Grand Bazaar is paying attention to what they're doing.
The Tyrant’s frenzied assault comes up short, and Clover’s searing light misses the mark.
The rust devil ignores Targrish’s hex and sidesteps his attack. Aicrad hits twice, wounding the fiend even as it whispers to him! The fiend whirls on the tiefling, who wards off all of its attacks.
The bone devil ends its inquisition, flanking Targrish and jabbing at him with its stinger.
HP
HP 173/173 (Toughness)
AC xx
Fort +13, Ref +11, Will +13; fire resistance 11 (Brass Dwarf), weakness ? (Brass Dwarf)
Hero points: 3
Active Harrow Omen: The locksmith (keys); Chaotic Destiny []; Incredible Improvisation []
Focus Points: xx/1
Effects:
Vashta concentrates on the Harrow as she casts a spell, hoping to again catch the two devils with electricity.
* 10th: Harrow Casting [one-action] (metamagic) You draw a card from your harrow deck just before you cast a spell to infuse your magic with its destined potential. If your next action is to Cast a Spell, the suit of the card you draw enhances the spell in one of the following ways. If the card you draw matches the suit of your active harrow omen, the effect is enhanced further as detailed below. When you Harrow Cast, attempt a DC 11 flat check. If you fail this check, you lose your active harrow omen at the end of your turn.
Crown The spell’s magic is hidden and subtle, and observers may not realize you’re doing anything more than manipulating cards in your harrow deck. Attempt a Fortune‑Telling Lore check against all observer’s Perception DCs. If your check is successful against an observer’s Perception DC, that observer doesn’t notice you are Casting a Spell, even though normally spells have sensory manifestations. This hides only the spell’s spellcasting actions and manifestations, not its effects. If your harrow omen is Crowns, you gain a +2 status bonus to your Fortune-Telling Lore check.
The Tyrant lets loose a guttural growl as he again tries to bite the more injured devil. "Stand still, and let me devour you!"
Shrugging off the poison with his strong constitution, Targrish continues to focus on the rust devil.
for + weakness
for + weakness
Aicard almost succumbs to the fiend's spell, almost. The allure to give in to the delusions of grandeur that come knocking on the doors of his mind is enormous, but part of him knows he can't let his friends down. And it definitely wouldn't be cool.
Her brows furrowing in frustration, Clover repeats her gestures, taking better aim this time and attempts another blast of burning light.
Clover's beam of searing light strikes the rust devil square in the face, burning off its metallic flesh to reveal its gleaming skull! It collapses to the floor, quite dead!
The rest of you shift your focus to the bone devil, which avoids some of Vashta's lightning. Targrish, Aicrad, and the Tyrant all lands hits on the fiend.
It hisses angrily and attacks, but you fend off its strikes!
"Don't worry, you're next!", Aicard yells at the Bone Devil when Clover undoes the rust devil. The fact its corpse remains inspires Aicard to bash the bone devil even harder, filling the champion with the hope that if it dies here, it won't simply return to Hell.
"He should have left when he had the chance," Clover says with a shrug before turning to the bone devil. "Now would you like to consider your options? No? Very well, then."
Aicrad demoralizes the bone devil and bashes it twice, then Clover connects with her searing light. The holy energy snuffs out the evil fiend's life force, and it falls and lies still!
With the threats neutralized, you have time to examine the room further. It seems that the dead Varisian woman was roughly searched, her possessions dumped in the blood pooling around her body. Her upper arm bears a very recent tattoo that looks like an architect being struck by lightning (an image often associated with the Harrow card known as The Vision).
The chalk lines on the floor form a rough map of Absalom. Your path through the city is immediately evident, tracing the route you took to Three Moves Ahead.
A door in the back of the shop leads into what appears to be an office.
"This is most interesting," Clover muses as she examines the chalk on the floor. "So, was she following our path or directing our path? This ties to the greater question of fate versus free will, but I don't think that's a subject for debate at the moment. Perhaps some other time."
Noting the tattoo of The Vision on the woman's arm, she looks around at the others. "Any chance that anyone might recognize the tattoo artist? We should also check the office."
Vashta enters, glancing sorrowfully at the dead woman as she steps carefully around the blood.
"What happened to you? You clearly had the Sight, but it wasn't enough for you to see what else was coming?" she softly asks the corpse.
"Interesting indeed," she says as she realizes something else on the map.
Targrish glances at the map, but doesn't recognize anything unusual about it.
He does look closely at the tattoo, wondering if he identifies the handiwork.
Some of the more subtle markings on the map have been scuffed from the fighting, but Vashta can identify the locations of three businesses: Historia Reliquary, Kraken’s Ink Tattoo, and Reclaimed Paradise, all of which have been indicated with marks but without context as to what the marks mean.
Targrish identifies the tattoo as the work of a famous tattoo artist in Absalom named Arhan Benimaya, who owns and operates Kraken's Ink Tattoo.
You head into the office, which is a mess. Piles of paperwork and incomplete games cover every surface. A messy cot indicates that someone’s been sleeping here for the past few days.
As soon as you enter the office, you feel the mental pull you experienced during the vision that lead you to this place. That tug draws you to a specific business ledger jammed awkwardly onto a shelf. Tucked between some pages of this ledger is an ornate Harrow card that matches those in your possession--The Vision. As soon as one of you picks up the card, it imparts its powers to you:
Suit Book (Int); Alignment chaotic neutral
The Vision represents arcane knowledge. As long as you have The Vision invested, it grants you a +2 item bonus to all checks made to Identify Magic. This increases to a +3 item bonus if you are at least 17th level.
Activate [free-action] envision; Frequency once per day; Effect A visible bolt of blue energy bursts from your head. Attempt to Recall Knowledge about a subject, rolling the check with the most appropriate Lore skill check. This check always resolves as if you were master in the most appropriate Lore skill to Recall Knowledge on the subject (or if you’re at least 15th level, as if you were legendary in that Lore skill). If you’re already master (or legendary) in that Lore, the result of your Recall Knowledge check is one degree of success better than it would otherwise be.
On the last few pages of the ledger that contained The Vision card, several notes have been jotted down. Included is a summary of the meaning of The Vision (that it’s the chaotic neutral card of Intelligence, and that it represents abstruse knowledge, sudden insight, or instability) and the shop owner's suspicions that more cards from the same deck must be somewhere out there in the world. She noted that one Dieral Myrnese, owner of the Harrow Barrow, might know more. The Harrow Barrow isn’t a shop but a traveling business whose proprietor wanders throughout the Grand Bazaar and (at times) elsewhere in Absalom. These notes also indicate a few nearby people who have a close connection with Dieral: Erikanesh runs a reliquary, Arhan owns a tattoo shop, and Clemeth owns a scrapyard. These seem to correspond to the locations on the chalk map in the other room.
With time to search the rest of the room, you pick through the confusing jumble. Amid various business records, unfinished puzzles, boxes of clothes, and incomplete or broken games, you can find several ordinary harrow decks. You also find four scrolls: a scroll of quench, a scroll of heroism, a scroll of slow (6th level), and a scroll of telepathic bond.
Targrish admires the handiwork of the tattoo, though he quickly sets the corpse in a more respectful pose. "Arhan Benimaya. I've always admired her work. Looks like we should pay her a visit, as well as those other shops. Oh, and keep an eye out for that Myrnese character."
The dwarf purses his lips. "Looking for a moving vendor in the world's biggest city."
"Yes, but it looks like we can find our path to this vendor through these signs our mystery woman left for us," Vashta says, pondering for a moment as she calls The Tyrant back into herself .
"I think our tattoo artist is where we should start. He can hopefully tell us our mystery woman's name. And best we depart quickly, before the guard arrives."
You make your way through the crowded Bazaar to get there. Kraken’s Ink Tattoo is an old business in the Docks district, but the shop’s secondary stall in the Grand Bazaar sees a good deal of business. The timbers of the sturdy wooden shop retain the salty smell of the ocean, as they were mostly recovered from an old ship. The scent mingles with the earthy smell of tattoo ink.
Every surface in the shop glistens from regular cleaning. Art in simple frames lines the counters, mostly ink drawings filled in with bold color. The shop is well-made, with only two tattooing stations, and tucked in the corner sits the bartered goods counter. Generally six or seven objects appear on display at any given time, with their prices marked in elaborate calligraphy on small white placards. To the left of this counter is a desktop organizer with dozens of small compartments, each one containing a different type of pigment source, sorted by color. These range from charcoal to ruddy cinnabar and other minerals, each labeled meticulously. Various jars of clear alcohol sit alongside a number of mortars and pestles, each with the residue of a different color along the bottom.
A mild-mannered mastiff hound perks her head up from her bed near the entrance and woofs softly. Behind the front desk is a handsome man who must be the proprietor, Arhan. A female kobold organizes the inks, while a deep sea azarketi hangs about, chatting with Arhan. All three turn towards you as you approach. "Welcome to Kraken's Ink. Looking to get some work done?" Arhan asks with a shy smile.
"Not particularly," Clover replies with a smile. Pulling the sleeve of her tunic back, she displays traces of glowing cyan that run from the palm, up her forearm, and disappear beneath the sleeve. Covering her arm back up, she noticeably looks over the displayed art.
"I'm happy with what I have, thank you. I do respect someone with a light and precise touch, though. Are you, perchance, the same Arhan that did the sunset on the back of Salmas, the sage?"
"Always looking to pick up something meaningful." Targrish casts an admiring eye on the equipment. "Tell me, how do you get your blacks so dark? Oakwood gall?"