Phouka's page

Well, that ups the challenge a bit. :) Good luck to everyone.

Is there only one round before the Sutter Round this time?

Yay :-D

Can I call you Code Monkey now?

I think we're preparing for the apocalypse. Everything is an end-of-the-world crisis these days.

I would add, let there be options with the clothing in general. If I'm playing a female wizard or other character that doesn't wear actual armor, I don't want to be wondering how she's not exposing herself every time she moves (like I do in some games). For some people, they might like this. For me, it's an annoying distraction. I would rather my characters wear clothing that is properly supportive and not likely to unintentionally flash someone if it were worn in real life. I also wouldn't want any character I make to necessarily be ultra-feminine and "sexy," but I would like to have those options. Customizable clothing/armor would be awesome.

In my Carrion Crown game, the GM limited all of us to fifteen point-buy. Up until that point, we've always done 25 (since starting to play Pathfinder). We are scared for our lives. :) It's tough but fun.

My Divine Channeler:
Str 8 -1 Dex 17 +3 Con 8 -1
Int 12 +1 Wis 14 +2 Cha 14 +2

(note: she's a middle-aged elf)

I was going to play an Inquisitor of Pharasma, but I was pointed two a class in a 3pp book called Divine Channaler. So now we have healing pretty well covered.

The Hellknight has now morphed into a gnome Summoner, and we have an Ulfen Barbarian, I think. The only people who haven't changed their concepts at all are the two sorcerers. Our main challenge now is going to be the fact that we have so few full-blooded humans with an elf masquerading as a human, a half-elf, and a gnome in the mix.

We start tonight, should be fun :-D

For anyone who hasn't made use of the forums because you feel like you've already done enough work on your story, post it in the forums anyway. I've already done three drafts on mine, and I'm glad I posted it in the forums because the first edit from another writer got me more feedback and pointed out some issues and gave me some ideas on how to fix it and make my story better. It is well worth it.

For once I started something in advance and actually got through a few drafts before submitting :-D

I just have to say, 1500 words is rough! I don't think I've ever written anything that short, and regardless of whether or not I advance to the next round, I count the completion of my story under the word count maximum as a personal victory.

Zuxius,
I'm curious to see what your thoughts were on Darkness Before Dawn

Btw, being a feedback whore, I might be willing to trade feedback on my story for feedback on other folks stories. ;)

I'd love more feedback on mine, but it is rather dark and a tad bit depressing. If you're not opposed to grim fiction, I can post a link for you.

Phouka wrote:

Second, in regards to this comment:

Montalve wrote:

I know understand why Jordan's father left her in Lastwall...

What is this referring to? It sounds really familiar but I can't place it.

my apologies, Jordan is one of my characters, her father went one or twice to Cheliax to work agains their goverment. I was just reminded why he didn't took her with him.

Yeah, my husband looked up Lastwall for me so I remembered why that sounded familiar, but we were curious as to who Jordan is :)

it would be easier to work with it in the Chronicler, also more organized, rechecking the story would take time but I can try to do that if you prefer. again I can work with grim & gritty but not every one is comfortable with it.

After getting some feedback from people on the dm chatroom, I have some editing I'm going to do and then I'll put it up on Chronicler for more feedback and editing :) There are a few things I might change, but it's still going to be pretty grim and gritty. After talking it over, I just don't think I can change the character's age (which I'm sure is one of the biggest hang-ups people would have with it). It just wouldn't be the same story if she were older at the beginning.

Montalve,

Thanks for the feedback :) Although this does bring to mind a couple of questions.

First, if I were to post if for editing and whatnot on Pathfinder Chroniclers for future publishing hopefully, are there any changes you would recommend making first? I have no problem with doing another rewrite before posting it.

Second, in regards to this comment:

I know understand why Jordan's father left her in Lastwall...

What is this referring to? It sounds really familiar but I can't place it.

Thirdly, would it be possible (or even beneficial) to get an email of more detailed feedback? Or would it be better to just put it up on Chronicler for peer editing/reviewing at this point?

I would love feedback on my story. It was titled "Darkness Before Dawn"

Is that 1:00 or 2:00 in EST? (Nibblenibblenibble...)

3AM

Montalve wrote:

some people are asking for feedback and the question as always is... public or personal?

I'm not sure. For me, it probably depends on the level of criticism. If my story got torn apart (and ended up being one of those few that just didn't stand a chance), I may not want everyone to be able to see my extreme lack of talent/skill in that regard.

Yeah I feel the same way. But then I probably already thought most of the negative criticisms that may come my way, and more. I tend to be pretty harsh on myself.

[peek behind the curtain] When all the scores were complied the scores between the winners and “losers” was incredibly tight (though to be sure there were two or three that were far down at the bottom.) And the discussion amongst the judges, while not heated, was spirited. We all had a couple of favorites that didn’t make the top 5. [/peek behind the curtain].

Ah man! Now I'm even more nervous.

That makes sense. I suppose saying 52 weeks a year is easier than saying "51 weeks and three days a year."

"Worst" is such a subjective term...
They are certainly much better than they were, however I would likely still choose an elf or a human over a half-elf. However, I would also likely choose a half-elf over a halfling or gnome. In my opinion, the small races are "worse" because unless you're a spell-flinger, you're doing piddly damage compared to medium creatures, your strength sucks unless you rolled phenomenal stats (or put a lot of points in strength if your gm goes with the point-buy method), and because you're small and have a lousy strength you can barely carry your weapon, the armor you're wearing, and the clothes on your back. I don't like small races. So it all depends on what you like to play. Personally, I like the new half-elf (although admittedly not as much as elf or human).

The calender is great, but there's something I've been having a little trouble with. I've searched the campaign setting, and nowhere does it say how many days there are in a year (or how many days in a month for that matter). I see you have assigned 30 days to each month. That works out to 360 days (361 if it's a leap year). The description of the year also states that there are seven days a week, 52 weeks a year. If this is 52 full weeks a year, then there are 364 days a year and some months must have 31 days. I know this is a really minor detail to most people, but I've been trying to figure it out for a while now and I don't know if there's a place these extra days are supposed to go or if we're left to fill them in wherever we feel like putting them right now. Any suggestions?

I'd like to put in my two cp on the discussion and the "feel" of the paladin.

Regarding the idea of "targeting" or "marking a target": that feels like a ranger, not a paladin. When a paladin decides to hunt down a particular target, it's called a quest. If an evil being escapes being destroyed and the paladin goes after him, it's called a quest. When a paladin gets to the end of the quest, he calls down the might of god and smites the evil being. The smite has nothing to do with having finally caught up to his target. Smiting evil beings is just what he does.

Even when he's not smiting though, evil creatures of all types should fear the paladin. As it is now, if a paladin approaches the lair of the BBEG, Bob the evil lookout does not overly worry about the Paladin. After all he is only a little evil so the paladin isn't going to waste his precious Smite on him. Let's say Bob calls a team of evil red-shirts led by BillyJoe the evil seargent-at-arms. BillyJoe is probably far more worried about the fighter that's cutting his red-shirts to ribbons than he is about the paladin that's squared off against him, because he's too small and too weak to be worthy of a Smite. This is just wrong, everybody from Bob to BBEG should be going, "Oh crap, it's a Paladin."

I think the way to fix that is with a +x/+x bonus against all evil creatures. However, I think that should be based on level, not on smites left per day. Let's say that BBEG has the ability to summon so fairly serious evil minions. The Paladin ends up burning all his smites just to survive. Now, BBEG steps in and says with an evil laugh, "Your god has deserted you and you have no power against me." No, god has not deserted him, he just can't call down the big thunder. The +x/+x bonus should represent that the paladin serves the heavenly hosts and that they go where he goes. Smite represents the paladin calling on god for special strength against a particularly vile enemy.
The other reason I prefer the level basis is that Static Bonuses...

Amen!

The way Detect Evil now works makes this a little easier to do, however it would still take the Paladin out of the fight for a few rounds if there is more than one enemy (as there almost always is) and the Paladin needs to see if they are evil. With some creatures it's obvious. If there's a demon or a devil, yeah it's evil. There's no need to try to detect it.

However say you're coming up against an army of redshirts. Let's say you have the +x/+x bonus vs any evil creature. You're pretty sure the BBEG necromancer is evil, but what about these guys? If you don't have to detect evil, then you're counting on your GM to add the bonus for you (and if they're an honest GM that shouldn't be a problem), but shouldn't a Paladin know? So you detect evil. And concentrate for ten rounds because you're going up against ten red shirts. Even if you take a round to concentrate on one, kill it, then take another round to concentrate on another one, it would take a bloody long time and take you out of the fight for a while. Since we don't the +x/+x bonus right now, that doesn't matter right now, but if it does get implemented it's something to think about.

I can see the argument that you shouldn't have to use detect evil to see if they are evil in order to get a bonus against them. You're a champion for good, it should just happen. However if that's the case, then why do we need Detect Evil at all? If it always works, or if you can attempt to Smite and not loose anything if it's not evil, then why bother wasting time to detect it? If anything, I think there should be a penalty for attempting to Smite a non-evil creature because as Paladin you should know better.

Anyway...I like the idea of the +x/+x bonus vs. evil. Fighting evil really is what Paladin is supposed to do and if they can't do that any better than a fighter (especially if they're even worse than a fighter), then they may as well just be a fighter.

((I still like the new way healing works. It makes sense to me, and there is an extra lay on hands feat that can be taken more than once.))

I play roleplaying games for a variety of reasons. One of them being I've always had a very active (some would say very over-active) imagination and it gives me an outlet. I also like hanging out with friends and it's something we all like to do. I also like it for practicing character development. I like to write (although finishing what I start is a little hard sometimes) and it really helps to be able to get into the characters' heads. Roleplaying has really helped develop that ability.

I very much like the new look for Paladin. Smite lasting a full round (or rounds at higher level) and giving an AC boost vs evil is terrific. I like how Lay On Hands and Channel Positive Energy look now. It makes a great deal of sense to me to link the two as all the other Paladin special healing-like abilities are the same way.

In particular, I like the new mount rules. It has never made sense to me for a Paladin special mount to be some temporary thing that shows up for a few hours a day and then vanishes until some time the next day. For that reason, I have never considered taking a mount. Implementing the new rules would make me reconsider that.

All in all, I would this looks like a very good start and a huge step in the right direction for Paladin. I hope the new rules will play as well as they look on paper.

I don't have any particular suggestions to fixing the paladin. Honestly, I haven't been playing DnD very long and I still get rules mixed up a lot, so I don't really have a firm enough grasp on them to say "this is how I think it should be." I can say this, however. I was really excited to play a paladin in the Second Darkness campaign I'm in, but now it's become a bit of a disappointment. We are a third-level party right now. Three PC's--one wizard, one rogue, and one paladin. I need to be able to be the party's primary fighter and healer. I suck at both. The rogue does more damage than me most of the time. I have one smite evil per day and more often than not I miss and it's waisted. I don't have channel energy yet or any spells, so the only healing I can do is lay on hands. I get six of those per day and can only heal three hit points at a time. The things we're now fighting deal much more damage than that in one hit and we have to back out of combat and recoup quite often, spending money on heal spells at the local tavern/temple to Cayden Calean.
So while I can't really say how to fix what's wrong with the Paladin, I can certainly say "this is what sucks." I do not like the fact that I struggle to do as much damage as the rogue when I should be a decent fighter. I do not like the fact that I can't heal my party (or myself) beyond stabilizing them when they go down as that's all lay on hands seems to be good for at this point. I do not like the fact that I get one smite a day and more often than not lose it because I miss on that one roll. I was expecting the Paladin to be a tough, evil smiting, monster killing machine. Instead I'm a damage sponge who can't do anything useful accept take the hits that would otherwise go to the other two. This is a very boring roll to fall into.

I've always wanted a pony :-D

Linking Smite Evil with Detect Evil, in my opinion, is a good concept. I just wonder, with the way Detect Evil currently works, if it would be feasible in combat. I believe Detect Evil is currently a standard action so, unless I understand the rules wrong, you would not be able to detect evil and smite evil in the same round. Detect Evil also requires a bit of concentration to "hone in" on a certain aura doesn't it? Or am I completely off-base with that?

Adding Divine Grace to a Paladin's AC would be pretty powerful unless it's only applicable in certain armor (say light armor). That would make it a little more balanced with the Monk's armor bonus for example (which applies only when unarmored).

And that's my two cents.

Personally I think it speaks to American culture. We all tend to have a sense of entitlement. Customer service workers are entitled to be treated with dignity and respect. The Customer is entitled get what they want when they want it. We all expect to receive what's most convenient for us at the moment we want it. Instant gratification.

I'm not saying everyone is like this. I work in a retail store and I've dealt with some very polite and respectful customers. Then there are others who ring the bell for a fitting room and keep pushing the freakin' button because I'm not right there the instant they pushed it. Or others who come up to me while I'm helping another customer and very rudely demand my attention and get huffy when I ask them to wait a moment while I wait on the customer I am currently working with. Sadly these customers leave more of an impression than the good ones.

On the flip side, this is also a time of suspicion where fitting rooms are often locked and all teenagers are treated like potential shoplifters because the majority of shoplifters are said to be teenagers. Retail workers are told that every shopper is a potential shoplifter. This isn't supposed to make the workers more suspicious. The point is to make them more attentive to the shoppers because if people are content they are less likely to steal from the company, however this could also have the opposite affect.

And dealing with people day in and day out tends to be very tiring.

Hey, long time reader, first time poster

Well, I haven't actually read the boards all that much in actuality. I read a little, but mostly over my husband's shoulder. He's been on the boards for a while. This would be my second post, my first being a rather lengthy character history on Curse of the Crimson Throne.

I'm fairly new to gaming. I've only been playing for a few years, and about four games. Druids scare me. I have yet to get up the nerve to try to play one. I'm currently having fun trying my hand at playing a paladin, although playing a good character is a little tough. I've had the most fun playing neutral characters who have a little more freedom when it comes to good and evil.

::My GM suggested I post this here for others to enjoy. This is the history for my character in a Curse of the Crimson Throne game.::

The girl sat perfectly still and silent as the old woman dragged the razor-sharp stone across her scalp, her ash gray eyes focused on the far wall of the hut. She felt an odd swell of pride as her long black hair fell to the blanket covering the dirt floor where she knelt. There were other children around her receiving the same treatment. She smiled as the last lock fell. From this day on, they were no longer children. They would be men and women of the Sun Clan.

"There," the old woman said as she examined the girl's now-bald scalp. "Gather it up and take it to the fire." The Girl With Gray Eyes gathered the hair and stood.

"Thank you, Honored Grandmother," she said, bowing her head to the old woman. She carried the hair from the hut and up a small hill where several people were tending a large fire. She stopped just outside a circular trench of water that surrounded then. There she waited.

"Child of Sun and Earth," a man's voice called to her after what felt like hours. "Step forward and be acknowledged." She stepped over the trench and approached the old man standing close to the fire.

"Honored Grandfather," she said, bowing her head to him in greeting. "I bring you the hair of my childhood that I may be reborn in the fire as a woman of the Sun." She held out the long, black locks. The old man took them and held them up in both hands, his arms outstretched and raised to the sky. he spoke the mystical words of blessing, and then looked at the Girl With Gray Eyes.

"Speak your Child-Name as you offer the hair to the fire," he instructed her, giving her the hair.

"Lavyanna," she said, throwing the locks into the flames. "Eyes of Ash." The man spoke the mystic words again as he painted her face and arms in intricate patterns.

"You stand before us a child of no name," he then said. "We send you to the Cinderlands to find your soul. May Mother Earth guide your feet along the safe road and Father Sun grant you the Vision of your heart. Now go, run the flames." She bowed her head and walked down the other side of the hill where a few other youth, painted as she was, waited with their families.

The Girl With Gray Eyes had no one to with with her. Her parents joined that tribe after theirs, another tribe of the Sun Clan, was massacred by orcs. And now her parents were dead and gone. Her father, a renowned Burn Rider, was killed a few months before she was born and her mother died in childbirth. She had been raised by the tribe's Shaman and Thundercaller, the old man on the hill and the old woman who had shaved her head. They wouldn't be there for the start of the run as they had other duties.

Soon the rest of the youth, most of them boys, assembled at the bottom of the hill with their families. Girls didn't often participate in the Burn Run as very few of them were permitted to become Burn Riders. Though there were always special cases like the Girl With Gray Eyes, who had been trained as a warrior since the first day she could walk.

The group set out on a hike until they reached a spot a few miles from the village. The adults, all on horseback, herded the youth into groups of two or three. The Girl With Gray Eyes was paired with a boy a year older than her and a bit larger, thought she was taller. He was the son of the tribe's jothka and rather proud. She never did like him much, though he was a handsome boy.

None of the youth spoke as the adults formed a circle behind them. A fire was lit, and they rode off leaving the youth to their run. The wind caught the fire, and it began to spread. The youth scattered, some running for a nearby river, others for a fire break.

The Girl With Gray Eyes ran purposefully toward the river while the others taunted the flames. The winds were low that day, so some of the youth abandoned wisdom for male posturing a play. It wasn't long until the winds picked up. The Girl With Gray Eyes heard a scream and felt a surge of heat behind her as the fire suddenly spread and consumed at least one of the foolish youth.

The air grew thick with smoke and ash. the Girl squinted her Gray Eyes, focusing on the river. the boy running just behind her was coughing hard. She didn't look back until she heard him fall.

"Help," he coughed, choking on the thick smoke. She turned and saw how close the flames were to them. She could no longer see any of the others, though she could hear occassional shrieks as someone was burned. Tradition dictate that she leave the fallen, but with the river so close the Girl with Gray Eyes found she couldn't abandon him to the fire.

"Come on," she said, stooping to help the boy up. "We're almost to the river." She dragged him along with her, praying to Father Sun that they would make it to the river before the fire got them. Her eyes stung and her lungs burned from the smoke as she finally stumbled into the water. She coughed and gulped it down before turning to the boy. She had dropped him in the water, and he was floating there face down.

"You're not dead," she scowled, rolling him over and dragging him across the current to the far shore.

The Girl With Gray Eyes checked the boy for breath and found that he had none. She took a deep breath herself and leaned down, giving him the air from her lungs. After a few breaths, he coughed and she rolled him onto his side so he could rid his lungs of water. After making sure he was alright, the Girl with Gray Eyes stood and walked several paces away so they would both have the solitude required to receive their visions.

The fire was an amazing thing to watch. The smoke and ash rolled above and around it in black and gray clouds. The wind blew it up into a funnel in places, dancing across the plains like the Finger of Death. She closed her eyes and muttered prayers to Father Sun as his heat and light beat down upon her. She ignored the hunger and thirst of her body as she waited for her vision. After two and a half days of no food, no water, and no sleep, the Girl opened her Gray Eyes to a frightening yet amazing sight.

In front of her, an enormous column of black rose into the sky. A monstrous Emberstorm raged across the plains. its lightning struck the parched earth, leaving fire and devestation in its wake. The Girl with Gray Eyes drew a deep breath as she felt a surge of power. She was the storm.

She looked down from the cloud to touch the ground with her lightning, and she was the lightning. She hit the parched earth and struck a wildfire. She became the fire, burning and raging across the land. She looked back to see the ash and cinders she left behind. Then, with a gust of wind, she was the strom once more, looking down at the fields of ember poppies brought to life by the fire.

Fire gave her birth, and fire was her child. The lightning fire that purified the land and scourged it was her destiny. That was her name. Kailira--Lightning Fire--Hand of the Emberstorm, Scourge and Crucible, Finger of Death and Bringer of Life. She would be the fire that would restore her people and ignite their enemies. This was the destiny she had trained for her entire life.

Kailira heard a scream and suddenly she was sitting once more on the riverbank. She heard more shouts and screams and turned to see shapes in the distance. Kailira blinked and went to the water's edge. She gulped down some water before standing. The jothka's son walked over to her as she squinted at the distant figures.

"I think they're orcs," he told her. "Come on. Let's go check it out." He headed toward the screams while Kailira thought it over. Orces were dangerous, and the two of them had no weapons. But then, why would Father Sun lead enemies to her immediatly after revealing her destiny if he didn't mean for her to act? Kailira made up her mind and followed the boy, keeping hidden as much as possible.

The two moved swiftly and silently toward the screams. Before long they saw an overturned wagon and several orcs. The screams were coming from a Varisian woman the orcs were tormenting. A little girl who appeared to be thw woman's daughter threw rocks at them, screaming for them to leave her alone. The bodies of a man, an old woman, and several other children littered the ground.

"Tshamek," the jothka's son muttered as Kailira studied the scene. "Let's go back..." She ignored him as she serched for a makeshift weapon.

"What are you doing?" he demanded as she picked up a rather large rock and crept around until she was behind the orcs.

There were only three of them and they were distracted. If she moved quickly, she might be able to help the woman and girl. She silently climbed a nearby flask tree and waited. As soon as one of the orcs wandered near her hiding place, she heaved the stone as hard as she could at his head. There was a loud thud, and the orc swayed for a moment before toppling over. The other two turned, and Kailira shrank back a little, hoping to remain unseen. They slowly approached her tree...

They dropped as suddenly as their companion, and Kailira was surprised to see the little girl standing behind them. She was breathing hard and holding a sword twice as big as she was tall. Kailira jumped down and nodded in approval. The girl shrank back slightly, looking scared.

"Help," Kailira told her in broken common. "Me help. Hurt?" The girl gaver her a confused look and dropped the sword.

"Mother hurt," she said in a quaking voice. Kailira nodded and approached the bodies. As she checked them all for signs of life, the jothka's son came out of hiding and finished off the stunned or unconscious orcs.

"Dead," Kailira sadly told the girl, not finding any breath or heartbeat in any of the others. The little girl knelt by her mother and started to cry. Kailira felt bad for her. She didn't appear to be any older than seven or eight. there was no way she would survive on her own.

"Come," Kailira said, gesturing for the girl to follow her. "My home safe. No orcs."

"What?" the jothka's son demanded, stalking over to them. "No! Tshamek!" Kailira fixed him with an icy stare and put an arm around the terrified child.

"Ortak-hurong," she said authoritatively, slipping back into her own tongue. "It is my gift to give, and you cannot contradict it."

"We'll see what my father has to say about it," he said darkly before turning and walking away. Kailira sighed and turned back to the girl.

"Kailira, Sklar-quah," she stated, pointing at herself. "You?"

"Krina," the little girl answered timidly. "Krina Munzu." Kailira gave her a reassuring smile.

"Krina come to Kailira home?" she asked in her imperfect Common. "Safe, no orcs. Nice Nana and Papa." The little girl looked around tearfully for a moment, then nodded. She stood and ran to the wagon, retrieving a small bag of possessions. Then she went to each of the bodies and kissed them, taking something from each of them. She bade farewell to her mother last, taking a deck of cards from a skirt pocket. Then she took Kailira's hand and walked with her back to the village.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The two girls listened intently from the curtained-off sleeping area they shared. In the main room of the hut, the two respected elders of the community they called Nana and Papa sat with the jothka in negotiation. They were trying to decide on an appropriate token of betrothal from the jothka's son to Kailira. As is customary, her guardians began negotiations with impossible requirements such as fire from the sun and tears of the moon. The Jothka's counter-offers were wise and flattering. he seemed quite approving of the match.

"Very well," the tribe's old shaman finally conceded. "A ruby for the sun's fire, a sapphire for the moon's tears, and jade for the heart of Mother Earth. If he brings her a necklace of these things, crafted by his own hands, then he will have shown himself worthy."

"The next time you see him he will be bringing to you this gift," the jothka stated. he then stood and took his leave of the two elders, and the girls peaked into the room.

"You can come out now," the old woman turned to them with a smile. Kailira and Krina burst into the room.

It had been three years since Kailira's Burn Run. She was now sixteen, quite tall, and pretty enough to have attracted the attention of the jothka's son. Krina, who was now just ten years old, had been adopted into the tribe after Kailira's story about how she found her, grudgingly coraborated by her soon-to-be fiance. Nearly everyone now accepted Krina as Kailira's sister--nearly everyone.

"I'm happy for you, Sister, but I hope you know what you're doing," Krina stated as they joined the elderly couple. "I don't trust him."

"Don't worry," Kailira said seriously. "I know how to handle myself."

"I know you do," Krina stated. "But I don't like him. He's mean." The she pulled out her deck of Harrow cards, the deck she retrieved from her mother's body the day Kailira had found her.

"Let me do a reading for you," she said. "Please?"

"I don't know..." Kailira scowled.

"Oh let her," their Nana chuckled. "She read cards for me yesterday and saw a dancing woman of loose morals surrounded by thieving crows in my future."

"Those were serious omens, Nana," Krina scowled.

"I'm too old to be concerned about omens, Child," she patted the girl's head. "Don't fret so much about the future or you'll miss the present."

"The present is all I have," Krina muttered, shuffling her deck of cards. Then she held it out to Kailira.

"Pick one," she stated. Kailira frowned as she took the deck.

"What, are you going to do a magic trick?" she asked, shuffling the cards a bit and then drawing one.

"The Survivor," Krina stated, looking at the card. "That's your special card." Then she took the deck back, reshuffled, and laid out nine cards.

"The cards show us the past, present, and future," Krina stated. "in the past, I see the Wanderer. You have found worth in cast-off things. Next is the Trumpet. Hmm...this card has two meanings which both feel true. There has been a delcaration of power, but also power for power's sake. Last is the Tyrant. That sstands for some influence of your parents that has brought you pain." Kailira stared at the cards with interest. Nana and Papa gave each other odd glances and took their leave of the girls.

"Now for the present," Krina said, moving on to the next row. "The Marriage--I think we all know what that's about. The Teamster means you are under driving external preasures. And the Big Sky. That's in a bad spot. There it means you are exchanging old shackles for new ones."

"You stacked the deck, didn't you," Kailira said, looking up at Krina with a knowing smile. "You don't want me to marry him."

"Well that's true," Krina said, her small face grave. "But no, I didn't direct the cards. Only Desna does that. I am merely reading what she tells me."

"The future," Krina continued, moving on to the next row. "The Survivor, your card. I sense both of its meanings are also true. An ordeal will bring rebirth, but also a tragic loss. The Betrayal--that's in a good spot, I feel. It means for you a noble self-sacrifice. And last, the Desert. That's a bad spot. It means a passage with little hope." Krina frowned at the cards.

"Bleak," she said. "But you never know. The future is always changing. here, I want you to have this card. Remember what it means. I think it'll be important. Little hope doesn't mean no hope after all." She handed Kailira the Survivor card. Kailira took it and studied it for a while. Then she folded it, ignoring Krina's grimace as she did, and stowed it in the small leather pouch that she wore around her neck. Her medicine bag was full of little things that had profound meaning to Kailira. it contained a lock of her mother's hair, an arrowhead that had been her father's, a small piece of vulcanic glass, a poppy seed, and now a Harrow card from her sister's deck.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Krina?" Kailira called, searching the village for her sister. "Krina, where are you? Everyone's waiting." Krina was now fourteen years old and had made the first transition into womanhood a few months earlier. now was the chosen day for the annual Burn Run, and the jothka declared that Krina would participate in order to become truly Shoanti. The problem was that the girl had disappeared the night before and no one knew where she was. Kailira sighed and strode to her fiance's hut. he hadn't been around much the past few days, but if she could catch him before he left again, he might help her find her wayward sister.

"Hello," she called, stepping into the main room. she heard some strange noises coming from his sleeping area and moved toward it as he stumbled through the curtain.

"Kailira," he smiled charmingly. "How are you?" She gave him a cool, studied look. He seemed nervous about something. She almost thought he had blood on him, but as he moved into the shadows a bit, she thought it might be a trick of the light.

"I'm looking for Krina," she told him. "Today's the Burn Run. Have you seen her?" His dark eyes shifted, peeking Kailira's suspicion.

"Krina?" he said. "No, sorry. Can't say that I have. How long has she been missing? Maybe she ran away. The Burn Run is really dangerous after all, and she's such a little girl."

Kailira didn't listen to his words. Instead she watched his face. She noticed that his eyes kept darting in the direction of his sleeping area. She listened hard and heard something again--a quiet, muffled something. She moved toward the curtain.

"Uh," he reached out to stop her, but Kailira was faster. She deftly drew back the curtain and looked down at the beaten, bloody form of her sister lying bound and gagged on the dirt floor.

"You bastard!" she turned to him with an angry hiss. His expression grew suddenly as cold as hers.

"She's a tshamek," he growled. "She's not one of us, and she never will be! She's filth!" Kailira turned her back on him as she knelt beside Krina.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, removing the girl's gag and unbinding her. "I didn't listen to you, and I'm sorry. I'm here now, Sister. He won't hurt you again."

"Kailira..." Krina whimpered weakly as she carefully lifted her from the ground.

"Get out of my way," Kailira said darkly as she turned to face him.

"She's an outsider," he said, moving aside as she walked to the door. "No one cares about her, Kailira! And you shouldn't either! She's the enemy!" Kailira ignored him as he shouted after her. She strode purposfully home, ignoring everyone but Krina.

"Nana, we have trouble," she announced as she entered their hut and walked straight to the sleeping area the two girls shared.

"Oh no, Krina!" the old woman exclaimed. There was a commotion as everyone left the hut and before long Papa was there as well.

"Let us take care of her, Kailira," he said, gently prying her from Krina's side. She nodded mutely and allowed herself toe be led back to the main room.

She sat there for some time, praying silently for her sister and cursing the jothka's son. Then a man entered. Kailira stood in the presence of the jothka, fuming in anger. He passed her and briefly entered the sleeping area.

"Who did this?" he asked her when he returned. Kailira gave him an icy gaze.

"Your son," she said in a dangerous, flat tone. He stared at her for a moment before he nodded and left. Kailira sat down again and waited.

"Kailira," a soft voice sounded in her ear as hands gently shook her. Kailira sat up, realizing with a start that she had fallen asleep.

"Krina?" she asked, looking anxiously up at Nana. The old woman looked more careworn and distraught that she ever remembered.

"We were too late," Nana told her tearfully. "She has left us." Kailira stared for a moment.

"Krina's dead?" she whispered. Nana nodded and gave her a hug, crying quietly. Kailira hugged the old woman back, feeling numb.

"I want to see her," she said in a flat voice. Nana nodded and led her to the sleeping area.

Krina's body was laid out on the bed, washed and dressed in a long white robe. She looked peaceful except for the bruises on her face and arms. All around her tallow candles burned. Kailira stared at her sister's body, feeling her anger rise. After several minutes, she turned and strode from the hut.

"Kailira?" Nana called after her. She ignored the old woman as she walked to the jothka's hut. he was seated outside along with his son and the tribe's elders.

Kailira ignored them all as she walked straight to the jothka's son. She grabbed the amulet he had given her for their betrothal and broke its fine silver chain with a sharp jerk. She threw it at his feet, ignoring the stinging in her neck where the chain cut her. She was vaguely aware that the elders were staring at her as she glared down at him.

"My sister is dead," she hissed. "Her blood is on your head."

"The tshamek interloper is dead," he countered.

"Kailira," she heard Papa say in a warning tone as she clenched her fists in rage.

"Well," she stated, her voice suddenly icy and calm, "I say we let the spirits decide your guilt. I say are a muderous coward, and I challenge you to a duel of honor." He smirked and it took every ounce of her retraint not to strike him where he sat.

"I say you are a malicious, hateful b#+$+ and I accept," he stated and got to his feet. They both ignored the calls of protest from the elders and his father as they walked to the center of the village.

"Kailira!" Nana called as she and Papa caught up to her. "What are you doing? Stop this right now!"

"It's too late for that," Kailira said as the whole tribe gathered around them. "He killed my sister. This is my right."

"There are wiser ways than combat," Papa scolded. "The Council for instance. Fighting should always be you last resort, not your first." She ignored them as she called her challenge to the jothka's son.

The fight was over quickly. While the jothka's son was much stronger than Kailira, she was faster. She had also been training her entire life for combat against larger, stronger foes. She used his own strength against him and had him on the ground.

"Tell them what you did," she hissed in his ear as she dug her boney knee into his spine and bent his arm back at an unbearable angle. He cried out in pain as the bones threatened to snap.

"Go to hell, you bi..." he screamed as she jerked and broke his arm with a sickening pop.

"Shall I break the next one?" she threatened coldly. As she reached for his other arm, he quickly and loudly confessed everything he had done to Krina.

"Now tell them how you became a man, tough guy," Kailira ordered in an icy tone. He remained silent until she pulled back on his uninjured arm.

"Kailira pulled me from the fire," he finally admitted, thoroughly humiliated. "I fell, and she brought me to the river." Kailira got off of his back, satisfied with her revenge and faced the disapproving jothka.

"You won the duel," he said coldly as the entire trube stood around them in stunned silence. "My son is guilty of murdering a tshamek under the protection of Ortak-hurong. For this reason, I will not demand your life for the dishonor you have laid on this tribe. However, if after today any of our people see you in the Cinderlands, you will suffer the fate of all interlopers. Go to the task we have entrusted to you, and perhaps one day your spirit will be redemed. But know this, Lightning Fire. When we bring war to that city, you will share the fate of its people if you are still alive." He then pointed a finger at her.

"Anathema for your dishonor!" he said loudly and turned his back on her.

Kailira blinked as the consequences of her actions sank in. She had tortured a fallen foe, one of her own people, and had revealed her past disregard for the Clan's traditions by forcing him to admit that he had only succeeded in his Burn Run with her help. She looked around and saw all of her people, her family, turning away and standing with their backs to her. Even Nana and Papa turned away when she looked at them. The jothka's son started laughing and she kicked him before walking away.

Kailira was forced to leave with no posessions but the clothes on her back. The tribe even blocked the way to Krina's body so she couldn't bid her sister farewell. She could only go in one direction--away. Kailira silently made her way south through the Cinderlands, finding creative ways to get food and water as she had no weapons and no waterskin. It took more than a day to cross the Storval Plateau, so she spent quite a lot of time hiding from orcs and her own people. It seemed the jothka had indeed waited just one day before sending all the Burn Riders he could to hunt her down.

As she travelled, Kailira considered her predicament. It seemed Krina's predictions were right. Kailira was destined to be alone and to find trouble wherever she went. There was never lightning without a storm.

Kailira didn't know for how long or how far she had travelled when she finally reached the end of the plateau and climbed down to the green lands below. She still had a long way to go before she would reach Korvossa, and now there were other dangers. She was dehydrated and very hungry when night closed in and a cold rain began to fall.

Kailira hugged herself with a shiver. Her short leather leggings and leather strips she used to bind her chest were all the clothing she had needed in the Cinderlands. Now they weren't nearly enough. She stumbled along in the dark and soon came across a small town.

There were a few outlying farms and these had barns. Kailira sought shelter in the first one she came to, her teeth chattering in the cold rain. She was so thirsty, she drank the dirty water from a trough along one wall befure curling up in a pile of dry hay in a corner. She lay awake for some time as the grief she had been replaicing with anger finally caught up to her. She closed her eyes and sobbed herself to sleep.

Kailira was awakened by harsh shouts and rough hands seizing her and dragging her out of the barn. The sun was barely peeking over the horizen as the angry farmers dragged the sick, frightened Shoanti out into the open.

Kailira shrieked as she was thrown to the ground in the middle of the small mob. She was a little delirious from lack of food and a proper night's rest, and the water she drank the night before had made her ill. She couldn't comprehend most of what they were shouting as they started kicking and hitting her; throwing mud, rocks, and whatever else they could at her; and spitting on her. She curled up into a ball on the ground and tried to shield her head with her arms as she wondered if she was going to die.

Then the crowd suddenly quieted down and turned away from her. Kailira heard other incomprehensible voices. Then a man approached her through the mob. He was dressed in colorful clothes and scarves, clothing very different from the drab, functional garb of the farmers. He looked down at her and Kailira skittered back, her eyes darting around fearfully as she tried to spot an opening to escape. The man spoke to one of the farmers. Then he knelt in front of Kailira and held a hand out to her.

"It's alright," he whispered. "I'm not here to hurt you." He moved a little closer and Kailira watched him warily though she didn't back away again.

"You're okay," he whispered. She flinched as he removed a cloak from his shoulders and draped it around her. He kept speaking softly to her as he carefully picked her up and carried her to a colorful wagon. Kailira fainted before seeing the inside of it.

When she awoke, it was dark. She heard a humming and turned her head with a slight groan. An old woman was sitting at a table beside the bed Kailira was lying on. She was setting out cards from a Harrow deck. Kailira sat up a little and closed her eyes as she felt like she might faint again.

"Easy," the man who saved her from the farmers stated as he entered the wagon. He set two bowls down on the table before turning to her and gently pushing her back down. Then he turned to the old woman.

"Evenin' Granny," he said, kissing her cheek. "I brought you stew." The old woman continued to hum and study the cards as though she was the only one in the wagon.

"She'll eat it eventually," the man smiled. Kailira watched him as he moved a chair to beside her head.

"Let's see if you can keep this down," he told her picking up one of the bowls. "You've been quite ill. I think this is the first time I've seen you awake. I doubt you can really understand me..."

"I speak your language," Kailira interrupted, trying to sit up a little again. The man stared at her for a moment, and then smiled.

"Excellent!" he grinned. "This stew is a favorite of ours. I hope it's not too spicy for you." He helped her eat and gave her some water. Then Kailira fell asleep again before she could ask his name. This trend continued for several days. Each time she learned something new.

The caravan had camped out a short distance from the farm where she was attacked. They didn't want to move her very far until they were sure she was on the mend. She was sharing to old woman's wagon because no one but the man who had saved her went in there. The old woman was mute and didn't read fortunes for others anymore. And Kailira discovered that she had been cleaned and dressed as a Varisian.

"What is your name?" Kailira asked her host one day as he brought food for her and the old woman.

"Roman Vasiley," he told her, sitting down next to her. "What's yours?"

"Kailira," she stated.

"May I ask why you're travelling alone?" he questioned. "Where's your clan?" Kailira scowled at the bowl of stew.

"I was banished. "She told him quietly. Tears rose in her eyes and she found herself telling him about Krina, and the jothka's son, and her journey to Korvossa. He listened patiently and didn't speak until she was through. Kailira looked up and saw that he had tears in his eyes as well.

"We were most fortunate to find you then," he told her. "Krina was my niece. Her mother joined her father's caravan. When their wagon was lost, we all searched from them. We never found anything. We thought the fires must have taken them all, or the orcs."

"Krina took out two of the orcs by herself," Kailira told him. "Even though she could barely hold on to her father's sword." She sighed.

"I should have killed the bastard," she muttered. "I was well in the right. The spirits would have forgiven the taking of his life."

"By the looks of your current situation," Roman stated, "I doubt your people would have let you live had you done something even more grievous to offend their traditions. Here, I brought some things for you. Now that you're well enough to travel, we'll be on the road again. These are dangerous lands, especially for a Shoanti." He set a bow, a few other small weapons, and a pack on the bed.

"I would be honored if you would call me Uncle Roman," he said, a bit emotional. "You took in little Krina as family, and now I would like to return the favor. I suggest you go by the name Krina while posing as a Varisian. I think she would like that. Maybe it will help remind you that not all outsiders are your enemy."

"Thank you," Kailira smiled slightly. "I have never had an uncle."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"We're here," Roman announced, throwing open the wagon's door. "The Thief Camp. Don't let the name fool you though. A lot of honest folk live out here. I'll introduce you to the Shoanti community." He helped Kailira out of the wagon. She was still sick and rather weak from her ordeal.

Kailira could see the city of Korvossa looming over the Thief Camp. All around her, tents and Varisian wagons stood alongside hovels cobbled together from tin, bits of wood, and sod. Shoanti of various clans shared cooking fires, and their children played together in the dirt. Kailira felt her anger growing as she saw the poverty and squalor of her people compared to the prideful decadence and disregard for Mother Earth that surrounded them.

"I have contacts in the community," Roman said as he walked her to a round hut. "I told them that you're my neice and your name is Krina Sunzu. They know you're ill and offered to take care of you for me since we cannot stay." He brought her into the darkened hut where a bed of straw and an older woman were waiting for her.

"Thank you, Uncle Roman," she said, giving him a hung after he helped her down onto the bed.

"Thank you for your generosity," he said to the healer and passed a her a few coins.

"Don't forget these," he told Kailira, setting the bow and pack he had given her down next to the bed. "Get well, Neice."

"I will never forget you," she whispered as he gave her a quick hug and turned away.

Kailira watched the Varisian leave, and then closed her eyes. A part of her mind questioned her purpose. Not all tshamek were without honor. But still, Roman and his people travelled the road. The war was against the city and wouldn't touch them. At least that's what she convinced herself as she recovered and prepared for her mission.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kailira sat cross-legged on the dirt floor of the little hut, her eyes closed in meditation. For two years now she had lived in enemy territory, developing contacts in the palace and working to establish herself as Krina Sunzu, the Varisian dancer. She had learned by now the virtue of patience. She could wait as long as necessary for the perfect opportunity to strike.

As she meditated, Kailira considered all t hat had transpired to bring her to this point. She had been born during a vicious emberstorm twenty-two years earlier, her mother dying in childbirth. The shaman of her tribe, the man she called Papa, declared that the child had been chosen for a special fate. Her ash grey eyes were viewed by her tribe as a sign from the Azghat that she was destined to restore some of their lost honor by undermining the invaders now in possession of their sacred land.

Kailira was raised with the knowledge of her mission, to infiltrate Korvosa as sew discord from within by targeting key individuals and thereby weaken the power of the invaders. It would take a lifetime for her to accomplish her mission, and she knew she was unlikely to see the results herself. By her sacrifice, she hoped her people would gain power over their enemies and, over the next generations, reclaim the holy land. She hadn't been meant to come alone on her mission, but it was perhaps better that she had. She could only imagine what the jothka's son would do surrounded by tshamek. He had never learned how to be subtle. She wondered vaguely if he was still alive. A knock on the open door frame interrupted her quiet meditation. Kailira drew a deep breath, cleansing her mind of these thoughts.

“Enter,” she said, not opening her eyes.

“Please forgive the intrusion, Miss,” a sad woman stated. “I was just wondering if you have heard any news…” Kailira opened her eyes and looked up at the grieving mother.

Shortly after she had been left with the Shoanti community, several of the children went missing. Kailira had recovered by that point and was working on building up her strength and establishing her identity in the city. As a "Varisian," she had an easier time searching for the children than their parents. She offered her assistance and most of the parents eargerly welcomed her aid in locating their missing children.

“I have lead,” she told the woman, “but it is not pleasant news. They have been taken by Gaedren Lamm.” The mother was understandably shocked and dismayed.

“I have not yet located his base of operations,” Kailira told her. “The Guard has been particularly unhelpful. All I get from them are warnings about the consequences of slandering a citizen. I promise you, I will find them soon. Tell the other mothers I am close to action.”

“Thank you, Miss,” the woman mumbled and left Kailira’s hut. Kailira sighed and agilely jumped to her feet. She quickly dressed in her Varisian dancing garb and headed off.

It had been two years since Kailira had gone to the Guard with the list of missing children. They told her that missing Shoanti children were not their concern as the Shoanti themselves were outside of the city's jurisdiction. Of course, that didn't stop them from sending Hellknights into the community to harrass them whenever there was any kind of unrest. The Guard told her she was free to investigate the matter herself, but she woudl recieve no help from them.

Kailira made a contact within the Guard, a man who seemed to have more of a conscience than the rest. He was the one who told her about Lamm, and through other informants she was able to discover his involvment in kidnapping the children. She brought this information to the Guard and was told not to bring slanderous accusations against a citizen of the city without solid proof or she would be thrown in prison. Kailira sighed as she headed into the city. If she couldn't find proof enough to satisfy the Guard, then she would just have to find a way to take down Lamm herself.