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Viviana flips the Harrow deck, shuffling the cards before stowing them in her coat pocket. "The girls will need protection. No doubt we've raised some hackles in the past. We may be the devotees of the Lady in the Room, but we know how to reward a good deed if it begs rewarding." Looking at the others, she smiles. "What about you, Kalvin? No princess to rescue? I'd hate to steal all the attention."
"Barricade ourselves inside? If there's a revolution brewing, I need to return to the people I care about to ensure their safety..." Viviana is understandably confused and intrigued by Zellara's ghost apparating in front of them. "Curious," she says, a smile on her face. "I'm assuming that you're... intelligent? You can answer my questions?"
"Smirk," she says laconically before continuing. "Focus not on the past slight; once taken, a glorious revenge is to be forgotten. Tend your works towards the present and the future. Live forward as you please, and with confidence and furor. But focus not on yesterday's retribution." Assuming the cart is full, she closes the back (if it has one) and looks to the other men expectantly, hoping they'll offer to pull.
Viviana helps the wounded Graxton into the cart, then turns back towards the fishery. Regarding it with a scowl, she sighs. "Sounds like a fine arrangement, Rodan. If no one minds, this leather armor here-- I could have it fitted. If the dead don't mind, I'll be scavenging this as well."
Removing her gloves, she tosses the once-fine now-stained-crimson leathers into the cart with the other bloodied gear. "I know a student at the Acadamae who can clean the blood off of all of this... or, perhaps, dear wizard Crux, you've prepared a similar spell?"
"Perhaps intelligent to look for Graxton's things as well... Wasn't he carrying more before? Did he drop it in the water?"
Viviana makes a gesture of peace, bowing her head for a moment. "As much as I'd like to inter her cards with her, I'll take a moment to remind everyone that it's very unlikely all of this treasure-- and a gilt-edged set of hand-painted Harrow cards is treasure-- belongs to a living person. Are we going to bury it all, or toss it in the river?" "Her head... put it back in the hat box. Let's bring her the peace she needs. But the cards? Those are handed down from family to family. A farmer couldn't sell everything he owned to buy a set like that. It'd be a shame to throw such beauties away."
Viviana takes Graxton's hand in hers, kneeling down beside him. She holds his hand firmly and strongly for a moment as Kalvin tries to help him. As the paladin turns away, she buries her hands into the blood-soaked clothing of the half-orc, trying to stop the bleeding. "You're going to be fine," she whispers. "Calistria looks after fools like us, so wrapped up in our revenge."
"I used to have fantasies about what I would do if I met you on the street. I daydreamed taking my revenge, day after day! You cursed a priestess of Calistria with your shiver! You stole my youth, and my beauty. I wrote a speech once!" Viviana nocks an arrow, stepping back from the surfacing reptile. "When you take revenge, dig two graves. A smart person said that once. I only need one; I'll drag you into mine if I have to, Gaedren Lamm!" Readied Action: If the Alligator Moves Towards Me, then...:
Viviana shoots the alligator swiftly and with accuracy. Perhaps.
Viviana lines up a shot and then fires it at the gnome, a look of annoyance on her face. Whether it's because of the general distastefulness of combat or the fact that the gnome is cutting up the most handsome member of the party is uncertain; that the arrow flies with the viciousness expected of a Calistrian taking revenge is crystal clear.
"You kill those children and I'll bury you beside them," Viviana calls from the rear as she moves forward. Calling out loudly, she berates them like a stern mother: "You know who the real bad men are here, and we're not them. We've come to take you away from this horrid place-- double extra treats to everyone who helps me and the other nice men! Be good children!"
Viviana spits a curse word under her breath and stands up. Holding her hand in the air, she invokes an old Calistrian edict: the Oath of Vengeance.
"They know we're here, so lets go out to meet them," she quickly directs, pointing to the doors. "In this case, men first," she says, lifting her bow and preparing the arrow.
"Glad you brought the less-than-lethal deterrent," Viviana whispers. She waits crouched just to the side of the doorway. As the others approach, she waves them through the door, pointing to the sides of it for Kalvin and Graxton before slipping into the room herself. She keeps quiet-- low to the ground-- her bow in one hand.
Viviana quietly incantates-- a soft prayer. She touches the head of an arrow and it begins to glow a soft yellow. It returns to her quiver, light dimmed among the other arrows. "I can fire that into the air if you think you're sharp enough to catch a glimpse. Otherwise, returning is as good an option as any." Glancing to Rodan, she smiles. "I think it's the two of us checking it out. I'll watch your back," she says with a mysterious glint in her eye.
You insulted a priestess of Calistria! Both thank you and why! at the same time, haha. I've always wanted one of my Calistrian characters to be insulted in-game. But never by a player! It's going to be so hard to get along with you now! Bwahahaha. I tried to think of an in-character way for Viv to tell Rodan off without splitting the party forever but I couldn't; I had to settle for the silent treatment. Hopefully that won't be too bad and she'll shake out of her mood by the time Rodan stops thinking that Viv is out to get him.
She stands up silently, cup in her hand. Setting it down on the table, Viviana smiles to Zellara. "Thank you for the wine." The woman gives Graxton a kind look. "That's a good point. I can understand familiarity. And it's Viviana-- Viviana of Calistria. You can call me Viv," she says, introducing herself to Crux and Graxton. Rodan begins to leave; Viviana ignores him. "I had the feeling you were a paladin," she says with a smile before gesturing in the direction Rodan is moving. "Shall we, gentlemen?"
Viviana listens to the story with concern in her eyes that quickly blossoms into excitement. She pours out a cup of wine for herself and sets the bottle down in front of the bread, taking a long sip as the others speak. "Condolences," she assures. The woman in the greatcoat looks to Rodan at his outburst. "My word. If you knew where Gaedren Lamm was, you should have told someone-- or us-- a long time ago. I was looking for him a few years ago to no avail; Then again, it seems that the rat's talent always was hiding." She brings the wine to crimson lips and takes another drink, her lipstick leaving a red smear behind on the glass. Viviana looks to the others. "He's an old man who's on his last legs. Now, Graxton, was it? We're five. Do we really need treachery to storm his home and put an arrow in his eye?"
That's the thing-- he describes people as smiling at him and greeting him. He'd have be wearing some kind of article that declares his allegiance-- like a police officer. You see a cop walk into the store and you say hello, sir, but if you see a guy with a gun walk into the store your blood runs cold. I don't see a lot of people smiling at a dude with a longsword in scale mail just walking through the neighborhood. We're really dissecting this topic now. lol
Just remember that it's rude to assume that women with Calistrian symbols on their hands are whores when you first meet them. A good euphemism is 'priestess'. :P It's all good. I did the same thing. You did in fact describe yourself as "the young paladin" so I just assumed I could tell, but in hindsight, there's no visual distinction to be able to tell that. I'll pretend I just used 'paladin' as a synonym for 'armored religious person' and move on with my head hung low.
Seeing her offer untaken, Viv breaks a piece off and eats it herself. She drapes her body back into the chair, as comfortable as can be. "I'm certain that Gaedren Lamm of all people wouldn't set a trap this complex if he knew enough about you all to send you a card in the mail." The inquisitor makes a point to not mention how she got hers-- off of the arse of a drunken whoremonger-- and uncorks the bottle, smelling it to see what's inside.
Viv crocks an eyebrow at Kalvin, weighing her experience in giving pointed looks to give him a surprised glare. Not a mean one-- but one excited yet taken aback. A sword fighter's expression when a novice puts it all on the line. "Bold move, but incorrect. On both fronts." Standing, she looks at her hand-- glancing at the holy symbol he'd no doubt seen. The basket makes its way to the table, and she unfolds it while speaking. "Though not far from the truth. I was a priestess, once, but the one who drank so deeply she drowned was I." Her explanation is broken by the entrance of a mummy-- which startles her. In an instant, she's recomposed herself and nods at his card. Offering a hunk of bread from the basket, she gives the... leper?... a mirthful smile. "So have we. Bread?"
Viviana cocks a wry brow and turns to open the door behind her. "Seems we're both here looking for the same person, then. Let's get inside." She shuffles into the home, bidding him to close the door once they've entered. Looking about, she inhales the sharp familiar scent of incense and exhales. "Seems an ecclectic home if I've ever seen one," she says tersely and sits at the table. Holding the note up, she gestures to the man, handing it to him and fishing for the basket under the table. "Looks like our 'friend' is out. I'm Viviana-- my friends call me Viv. Odd. You got somethin' to do with Lamm?" she asks. Her voice is raspy and crooked, a corrected street urchin's accent underneath.
A copper piece finds its way into the Desnan shrine. She had, after all, come to a new place in the city she'd never been to before. It was worth paying respect that she was lucky to live long enough to be here. As the man-- no, closer to boy-- approaches, Viviana gives him the long eye. A young paladin-- not what she expected. Better looking than what she had expected as well. In her mind, she visualized an old hermit writing on these cards in a weathered hand, cackling in the kind of madness fortune-telling brought you to. Instead, this. He was cute. With expedience, she stops him. Gloved fingers touch his shoulder. "Afternoon. You must be the person who wrote on the card." Crimson eyes search his face, trying to keep ahead of whatever situation may evolve. Perhaps it was just some parlor trick, old lie, missed connection or something else? Maybe she was just embarrassing herself.
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