Chapter 1: Edge of Anarchy
Sunday 16 Pharast, 4708
It's raining out today. Not that it's that uncommon in a city like this. Korvosa seems suited to rainy days. It seems like any other rainy day in the city. Little do you know that at this very moment, the catalyst is in motion that will set up events that will lead you on the greatest adventure of your life.
A humble priest goes about his daily rituals, which today includes the cleaning and preparation of the Bank's temple holdings for services. This week, it is his turn to polish the golden altar. As his steps echo down the aisle of the empty center of worship, he hears the rain drops ringing off the high roof of the Bank and thinks to himself how fortunate he is to work indoors.
An elf awakens in a small, cramped flat. She is weary. The long nights are beginning to take their toll. But she will not let that deter her. She must go to her day job today, but first she will stop by the Pantheon of the Many for prayer. As she leaves, she pulls her cloak tight about her to keep off the rain as best as possible.
A scarred man leaves a dimly lit watering hole in Old Korvosa, a sack of gold sails weighing too little for his taste in his fist. He didn't bother to count it. He already knows how much is in there. Most likely he'll pour it out when he gets home. He scowls to himself as the rain soaks the fabric of his hood, shoulders his sword, and starts the walk home.
A guardsman tromps towards Citadel Volshyenek, his iron-shod boots splashing water across his already drenched trousers as he moves on, undeterred by the downpour, back to base. It has been a dull night, and he wants only to go home and rest. Yet there is no rest for the weary in Korvosa.
A gnomish woman sings for her supper in a cozy inn. Her cap sits before the stage, and she eyes it sadly. The money's coming in slower than ever. She gathers up her things and orders what she can with the meager amount she pulled in this morning. The woman walks off to fetch her breakfast, and the gnome sighs knowing that she doesn't have enough for food and a room. She listens to the rainfall outside with dread.
A Hellknight sits on the edge of his mattress, brooding. The sound of the rainfall outside echoes his mood. He has been in Korvosa for a month already, and turned up nothing. But he will not give up the chase. He sighs and runs his fingers through his hair as he stands and stretches. He looks across the room of the inn in which he stays to see his spellbook sitting on a small desk. He rubs the sleep out of his eyes as he begins that direction. Hopefully he will need his spells today.
A thin man bends his knees into a crouch. He is perched on the edge of a roof, watching the goings on of the people in the house across the street. It would seem that the husband is indeed being unfaithful. A lock of wet hair splats across his face. There is nothing more to see here. He will inform the woman of her husband's infidelity and collect his payment. But first he reaches into his pack for the borrowed climbing gear. The Shingles could be bad without it. Especially on days like this. He will need to get down.
Taking some extra time to climb from his perch, Dhan wipes the water from his face as his feet finally touch the broken cobbles of the street. He knows the shopkeepers wife will be angry with his report, but he was not the one cheating, and to be truthful, if he had a wife as shrill as her...well maybe he would look elsewhere for comfort.
He packs away the climbing tools from his borrowed kit. He would have to swing by Elto's later to drop it off, along with the modest fee for it's rent.
Looking into the damp sky, he pulls his collar up a litle higher and sets out into the gloomy morning.
Henric strolls up Citadel Hill with a smile on his face. You learned to like the rain, he muses. Can't smell the slaughterhouses. He steps under an awning, and pinches the bridge of his nose, wiping water from his eyes. He watches the gutters gurgling, smile twisting into a grimace. He knew what slept in the sewers below.
He trods around a corner and grits his teeth. Sleep could come later. Information, first. He walks tall into the Bailer's Retreat. The tavern is a famous haunt for ex-prisoners, and naturally served a great many guardsmen as well.
Nodding vacantly at the bartender, he puts two copper pinch on the countertop. "Coffee.", he says, smiling up at the man gratefully. "Strong."
Henric turns to face the staring patrons, grinning at a few familiar faces. He pulls up a stool near a grubby-looking halfling with heavily bandaged hands. "If it isn't 'ol Two-Fingers!" he says, his usual cheer somewhat strained. He pats the halfling on the back. "Didn't I haul you in not three months ago for pickpocketing?" He turns to wave to a fellow guardsman across the room. "Good behaviour?"
Marcus's nostrils flare out in a dismissive huff as he observes the rain falling outside his window. With a tired groan, he rises from his bed, fastening the last strap of his armor, and he finds himself dwelling on the dull patter of the raindrops as he moves towards the leather-bound tome on his desk. Most people seem to complain about the rain, but it's not really the problem - just another excuse for them to rail against the inadequacies of their environment without actually lifting a finger against it. Idleness. The poison of civilization.
Marcus smiles as he sits at his desk. The rain always brings the rats scurrying to the surface - today will yield results. He makes a note of the conditions outside as he begins flipping through the pages of his spellbook. Surfaces will already be slippery, no need to compound that... But those thrice-damned spiders, they'll be out. He spends the next our in quiet study, making sure to ready something to burn the damnable arachnids away, then moves for the door. He retrieves his weapon from the corner before pulling on a heavy crimson cloak, then heads downstairs for breakfast, the iron butt of his staff announcing his passage.
Alatáriël lowers the hood of her cloak against the heavily falling rain. At least it's not far to the temple, she muses to herself as she walks gracefully down the cobbled street.
Entering the packed temple, she shakes the water from her hair just inside the entryway. She hangs her dripping cloak on a rack and moves down the aisle to a side hall, towards the shrine of Erastil. Within she feels a comfort like coming home. She walks around to a small privacy box to begin her prayers.
"That'll be all then, sir," she says flatly as she hands you your payment. Without another word she gathers her dress in her hands and departs. Hightown women... The purse feels strangely heavy. You'd better check it out.
I know what Gaedren has done to you. He has wronged me as well. I know where he dwells, yet cannot strike at him. Come to my home at 3 Lancet Street in the Docks at sunset. Others like you will be there. Gaedren must face his fate, and justice must be done.
I know what Gaedren has done to you. He has wronged me as well. I know where he dwells, yet cannot strike at him. Come to my home at 3 Lancet Street in the Docks at sunset. Others like you will be there. Gaedren must face his fate, and justice must be done.
When the wind blows cold and threatening, nobody's there to comfort me. Someone somewhere hear my plea... A familiar song for familiar thoughts, and familiar weather Alexei smiles. The chapel is a good place to mediate, especially in the morning when the Judge's advice is sought on personal matters. Anca's birthday is coming soon. A good time to reflect on the work of the last year, and hopefully the closing of that chapter in the coming year. It's been several years since her disappearance, but Abadar, and His priests, are nothing if not patient. Perhaps today's service will have some sound advice.
Henric chuckles at the halfling, cold hands nursing the warm mug. "That sounds like you, alright. Straight as a barrel of fishhooks." He takes a long draw of hot coffee and sets it back on the bar and stares at it, mournfully. He follows the halfling into the backstreets and presses a silver shield into his palm.
"You found Lamm?" he says, staring down with a new intensity. He squeezes the halfling's grubby paw tighter. "Tell me what you know."
I know what Gaedren has done to you. He has wronged me as well. I know where he dwells, yet cannot strike at him. Come to my home at 3 Lancet Street in the Docks at sunset. Others like you will be there. Gaedren must face his fate, and justice must be done.
I know what Gaedren has done to you. He has wronged me as well. I know where he dwells, yet cannot strike at him. Come to my home at 3 Lancet Street in the Docks at sunset. Others like you will be there. Gaedren must face his fate, and justice must be done.
Marcus's eyes widen as the card slips out of his book - someone was in his room. A quick incantation brings his staff flying to his hand as he leaps to his feat and scans the room. He whispers another spell, making any dweomors in the room visible to him.
Henric stares, brow furrowed in confusion. He stares at the card, then at the halfling, trying to pry his hand free. "Thanks, Fingers. You're a decent sort, for a two-pinch grubby little thief." He lets go, placing a hand on each shoulder. "Stay out of trouble." he says, before drawing up to his full height and trudging down the main street once more.
He turns the card over in his hand, staring at it pensively. The rain seems to bounce off of it.
His coffee forgotten, he makes his way to the Citadel, shivering. Lancet Street... Lancet Street... He prided himself in knowing near everybody under his protection.
Henric gives the miserable gate guard a friendly pat on the arm and ducks through the citadel gates, and makes for his sergeant's office, treading mud over the polished floor. He knocks on the thick timber door. "Sergeant Donovan? Guardsman Henric reporting in, sir."
I had spent a long night waiting patiently in a darkened alley across the street from the current flop house Drazen the Unkempt was known to frequent. A long wet night.
It was done though, Drazen had finally stumbled in just before dawn, been easily apprehended, manacled and taken in to pay his over due debts or make restitution.
Now that I'd been paid, and my blood wasnt pumping so fast, I was really feeling the chill even though the sun was coming up somewhere above the heav clouds.
Drenched, I finally reached Northpoint district, and headed down Arbiter way until I hit Northgate Avenue. I splashed past the latest crop of neer-do-well's swinging from the gibbett outside Longacre Hall, left on display for several days as customary. As I glanced at their gray bird pecked faces I didnt recognize any of them. I smiled to myself and said out loud, "Thank's be to Iomedae for Senior Arbiter Zenobia Zenderholme, the hanging judge!" That fierce defender of the law's of our great city could always put a smile on my face. I had helped send a fair share of unfortunate's to those very gallows and knew Zenobia's clerks by name. Taking a folded parchment from my oiled pouch, I opened it carefully under my cloak and looked at the crude sketch of Drazen. Holding a small piece of charcoal I scrawled "COLLECTED by TD" across it and dropped it in the small slot in the door to the clerks office. Turning, I headed North once more.
I leaped the overfull gutters and made my way onto Endrin Isle over a slick old wooden bridge. Old Korvosa proper, and my small garret room under the eaves of a house on St. Alika street were close.
Minor petty criminals, debtors, those were the only bountie's I'd had of late. I needed a big score to keep my meager logdings another fortnight. I'd have to visit Henric at the Guard later today, and perhaps Flavius over at the Order of the Nail garrision, perhaps one of them would have a hot new bounty they'd need help with. Or maybe I would get some information on "HIM"... but no, unlikely, those leads always turned cold, and each time I never knew if I had really been any closer to catching Lamm once and for all.
He would have his due in time.
Entering my loft room I hung my wet cloak and shirt in the corner and carefuly drew the huge greatsword that was my prize possession. Standing in the only clear space I began to go through my combat drills and martial exercises, working the kinks and cold out of my muscles. I had not attended a fighting academy, but I had picked a few things up. As I worked I stared intently at a crude hand drawn sketch tacked to my wall and the text scrawled beneath it "Gaedren Lamm, Wanted DEAD or Alive"
After a time, sheathing my blade, I stepped to the small table near the window and emptied the contents of the small pouch I had been given, prepared to count the few coins there.
Dhan opens the pouch once he is out of sight of the client.
@Marcus: After a few seconds, you do detect a magical presence. You focus your attention, pinpointing the source as the card you hold in your hand. It possesses a moderate magical aura.
@Henric: You ponder on the location. Lancet Street... Lancet Street... That's right. If your memory serves, a middle-aged varisian woman, Zellara, lives there. She came poking around the citadel a couple weeks ago trying to get some of the other guards to do something about Lamm. Said he'd nabbed her son. That was the most you'd heard about Lamm in years. Sparked your interest. But with no leads, there wasn't much anyone could do. She seemed a little off-put when she left.
"Come on in Henric," calls the gruff voice from beyond the door. You can just picture his angry mustache now.
I know what Gaedren has done to you. He has wronged me as well. I know where he dwells, yet cannot strike at him. Come to my home at 3 Lancet Street in the Docks at sunset. Others like you will be there. Gaedren must face his fate, and justice must be done.
Henric grits his teeth and steps through the door, making a smart salute. He glances down at the mountain of paperwork, and the burly, ruddish man shackled behind it. "All quiet in West Dock, sarge." he says, wearily. "But I may have a lead on the Lamm case."
"The kidnappings, sarge," he says, noting the blank expression on his red face. "My nephew." he adds, weakly. "It's not much, sir. But I've found something." Henric places the harrow card on the desk, standing at attention as his sergeant reads the note. "Levin will cover my patrol." he says, out of turn. "He knows my route."
Henric stares fixedly at the city crest mounted over his sergeants head. "I'll file an official report tommorow evening." he says. "I'll sleep easier knowing there's one less snake prowling our streets."
I know what Gaedren has done to you. He has wronged me as well. I know where he dwells, yet cannot strike at him. Come to my home at 3 Lancet Street in the Docks at sunset. Others like you will be there. Gaedren must face his fate, and justice must be done.
"Guardsman!" Donovan huffs through his bushy mustache. "You know as well as I do the Lamm case is a dead end. Not only that, it's small time." He settles into his chair. "I need not remind you of your history here. I don't think it's a good idea for you to be putting other guardsmen on your patrol." He grins darkly. "I'll tell you what, Henric. If you think this Lamm case is so important, I'll put Sgt. Vankaskerkin on it. That way you don't have to pull Levin off his route. That'll be all Henric."
Titus shouts "Yes! Gaedren Lamm your number is up!"
Quickly putting on some dry clothes, his spare grey cloak, and pulling his damp boots back on, Titus settles his greatsword on his back and leave's his loft, fingering the harrow card thoughtfully. Could this be real, or some sick joke or false lead?
Hood up to protect him from the lessening rain he mouths a silent prayer to Iomedae as he steps into the street. Reaching the end of St. Alika street, Titus enters Yuli's Bakery and purchases some rolls, and then approaches a street vendor under an awning outside, "Three links please Gerd." Ripping open one of the rolls Titus hold's it out and Gerd deposits three steaming sausage links in the bread. "G'day sir, ye look fit to sing this morn'in!"
"You could say that, Gerd, but we shall see. Thank you good sir." Handing over three coppper pinch to the vendor, the grey cloaked man with the scarred face walks away with a purposeful step, munching on his breakfast.
Knowledge: Geography +2 more vs Humans
Knowledge: Local +2 more vs Humans
Stealth
Perception +2 more vs Humans
Perception +2 more vs Humans
Perception +2 more vs Humans
Perception +2 more vs Humans
Perception +2 more vs Humans
Having recieved payment for services rendered, perhaps a Profession check is warranted (The bag of coins in the opening sequence)?
Here is my check, let me know whether its ok or not:
Profession: Bounty Hunter
@Titus:
The house isn't hard to find. This isn't exactly your first time in the Docks. It's not a bad home by any means, but you wouldn't exactly call it nice. It's seen better days. Quiet bit of neighborhood, though. You drape your heavy cloak about you, concealing most of your features and plop unceremoniously across the street facing the home. Hood low, head down, palm out. No one pay's heed to the beggars. As you squat there,you keep a sharp eye, but as the day drags on into afternoon and on into the evening, your attention begins to drift. Almost right at sunset, you see someone coming. Not the usual passersby either.
The Queen Mother? This is not the home of the Sting or Lady Luck. What are you Ladies up to? What would mother say... If you hold the Queen, keep knowledge close. Best not tell anyone about this. The message comes from the Docks, so the writer is probably meek, and so holds Her favor. Definitely be there at the appointed time. The card was on the Judge's alter, so His blessing has been given. Curious.
Alexei pockets the card with a smile.
Once the day's tasks are over and his things gathered, Alexei heads to the docks to find Lancet Street. Once there, he takes a look around. Perception
@Alexei: You arrive on Lancet Street at the appointed time. The old man you asked on your way here was only too happy to give directions to one of the Lord of the First Vault's disciples. Looking through the gloom of the blasted weather, the only person you see is an old beggar sitting cross-legged against a half-tumbled-down piece of wall. You spot the house easily enough, though. Through a window, you see light flickering inside. Just the thought of a warm fire invigorates your drenched bones.
Henric sets his jaw as he's dismissed. His brow furrows slightly. He had anticipated this.
"Sir, with all due respect I've not had a day off since the last Riverwind festival." he protests. "I've got more leave than anyone in the unit."
Ah, perhaps the card favors this one as well. Alexei approaches the beggar, A pinch for your thoughts father. What can you tell me of the residence here?
@Alexei:
@Henric:
"With all due respect, you will be at your post at the appointed time. If you want to look into Lamm, you can do it in your own time, and report your findings to Vankaskerkin. Let's not have repeat of the incident that got you bumped back down to patrol, Escalus. Now," he states as he stands and grabs some scrolls. "I've got a meeting with Field Marshall Kroft about issues that actually matter." With that he opens the door and holds it. "Dismissed."
Gaedren!! The name brings back many painful memories and a great amount of anger!! How could the lady know about my link with that monster? he thinks. I must be ready before nightfall. A quick nap, then maybe I trade some of this money for the climbing kit...might be cheaper then 'borrowing' it when I need it.
Now where the heck is Lancet street?
@Dhan: You think, running the name through your head. All you think you can remember is that it's somewhere in the Docks.
@Titus: The man who approaches is a half-elf. Underneath his cloak, you note the vestements of the priests of Abadar. "A pinch for your thoughts father. What can you tell me of the residence here?"
Marcus squints as he focuses on the card, seeing what he can glean from its aura.
@Marcus:
You ponder the aura lingering around the card.
Henric grits his teeth and makes for the door sullenly. He heads for the armory, sits on a stool and draws his longsword. He begins to sharpen the blade. Long deliberate strokes, sending a metallic screech echoing through the hall that not even the rain can muffle out. He mutters a few choice words about where Sgt. Vankaskerkin could stick it. He keeps at his task some time until, calmly, he picks up his blade and swings it in an arc, and, satisfied, sheathes it once more. He then goes about cleaning his armour and polishing his boots.
Within an hour, he emerges, whistling to himself. Eyes glancing over the roster, he makes for his quarters to steal a few hours of sleep. He mutters a prayer to Gozreh that the rain eases up, he remembered the ruckus the last spider storm caused all too well. Those on the Night Watch learned to steal sleep where they could. Blocking out the midday noise, Henric dozes off to the sounds of rain.
"Soon, little Aaron. We'll get you home soon."
Perception
Bluff
Hail friend, do not be alarmed. I am Titus Darunde a bounty hunter, and I too recieved one of those cards under strange circumstances telling me to come here." At this point Titus pulls the harrow card from his shirt pocket.
"Gaedren Lamm?"
@Titus:
@Henric:
At this point Titus pulls the harrow card from his shirt pocket.
Hail friend, do not be alarmed. I am Titus Darunde a bounty hunter, and I recieved one of those cards under strange circumstances telling me to come here."
"Gaedren Lamm?"
After waking up, Dhan heads to his friends home to ask about the purchase of the climbing kit. He will also ask if they know where exactly Lancet street is.
Henric picks himself up, groggily and begins to shave. Orders are orders. he muses. There's only one thing for it.
Fresh faced, Henric strides out into the entrance hall and finds his mark. Levin is hard to miss. Scrawny and bow-legged, he seemed to be a permanent fixture on the premises, where he "jess ducked out for a quick smoke, 'ats all. Wots i' to ya?"
"Evening Levin." he says, with a pat on the back. "How about this bloody rain, eh?"
... "Listen, you remember those four sails you owe me?" he says, pushing him against the wall.
Intimidate
"Now's your chance to earn 'em back."
@Dhan:
Marcus purses his lips tightly as he peers at the card. He lays it on the table and steps back, tapping his chin as he stares at it for a long moment. With a shrug, he rummages through his pack and produces a pen. He copies the address from the card and gathers his thing, but leaves the card on the desk - no telling who might be able to use it to track him. In fact...
He picks the card up once more, and with an eldrich word and a snap of his fingers, it becomes ash.
After a quick check to make sure his gear is in order, Marcus hurries down the stairs and towards the door. "I'm checking out - I won't be back." he curtly states. He slaps a few coins on the counter without breaking stride - enough to cover his last night, and steps into the streets of Korvosa. Pulling his hood over his head, he starts down the road. Dusk be damned - he's going to find this place now and see what this is all about.
@Marcus:
Moving down the thinly populated streets, you make good time. What people are out on the roads give you a wide berth. While the card did specify that the address was in the docks, you still have to do a bit of hunting around to find it.
Dhan leaves Elto's place, the new climbing kit snug in its pack. He heads down towards the docks. It is still a few hours before dusk, but with this overcast sky who could tell. He asks around once he reaches the dock for the address on the card.
@Dhan:
With the directions given to you, you manage to find Lancet Street with relative ease. When you arrive, you see two other men with cloaks drawn tight about them conversing quietly with each other across the road from the home you seek. You notice no other people in your vicinity.
@Marcus:
Hours you wait, hoping for some sign of who might have given you the card. The thought of someone sneaking into your room, however well-meaning they might have been, bothers more than you care to admit. The first sign of life you spot on the street is a man in a thick cloak looking lost until he pulls his hood down and crouches like a beggar on the side of the road. Clever... You also see the half-elf approach him. Between the distance and the rain, you can only piece together bits and pieces of their conversation. Sunset approaches.
With a smile, Alexei bows and flips a Titus a pinch
Worthy thoughts. Alexei Sadron-Boroi of the Bank of Abadar. Well, two make other. Now where is 's'? I'm the Queen Mother, and you?
@Alexei: Your first impression of the man before is that he is not one to be trifled with. Men don't get that demeanor and build without some substantial form of martial skill. He strikes you as the type who speaks little, yet when he does it's strait to the point.
"The Forge. That makes me a smith? I do not put much stock in things like Harrow readings." Titus shrugs and shifts to ensure his greatsword is easily accessible, peering both ways down the street and returning his gaze to the house in question.
Perception +2 more vs Humans
Dhan moves up to the other two people standing by the building. He stops a respectful distance from them and clears his throat.
"Errmm! Excuse me gentlemen. Would this happen to be 3 Lancet Street?"
To Titus It suits you. The Forge is diverse strengths welded to a single purpose, or so it would seem to me. I respect the cards, but am not a true harrower. What do you make of the man heading this way.
After the man coming down the street calls out. I reply
That's depends. You have a invitation for Mr. Lamm's party?