** spoiler omitted **Leliestraat: ** spoiler omitted **
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Simn only, DC10 Heal check:
DC18, same roll:
Seeing the others content to split up and meet again as fate directs, Gawain will return to his father's smithy.
Cole will also agree to meet again as fate would have it.
For DM Pat
Frasides makes his way home, crossing the river via the High Bridge. While the chaos has extended even to East Shore - it's clear that damage isn't anywhere near as bad as it was in other parts of the city. If Fraz has any doubts, it's mostly squelched when he hears the noises of the patrons at the Shoreline Drinkhall. He passes by it, seeing that more soldiers than usual have dropped in at this hour - most to take a quick drink or meal before reporting back. Some look battered by the evening's events.
A few regulars see him, and recognize him - but he has no time for chatter and gives them a quick wave of greeting before questions can be asked. Despite what the city has been through, he cares little right now to hear about it. Making his way down to the river, he spots the family's holding warehouse on East Shore's dockline. He makes his way into the building - at this time of night it is quiet - and heads for one of the curing rooms. The beast's skin should be treated better, but for now he goes through the process of preparing to stretch it for later preservation. It is mounted on a rack to dry, locked in a room. Throughout the process, his thoughts drift back to his sister; it is a familiy tradition for all kin to partake of these jobs. His grandfather and father had taught him; and his sister would've learned it too - such was their way of knowing the business and livelihood of five generations in Korvosa. Now...now it wouldn't be happening.
By the time he's done, he feels weary and tired. From the warehouse he makes way past the Francol workshop accross the street that is where they work the leathers. Finally up a small street to a manor house that sits behind Endrin Square's main front and west of Kroft Boulevard. It's neither the biggest nor the most ornate in the district - but it's been his home for all his life. Beyond the gate and hedges the house has designs akin to a hunting lodge - wooden panels and rustic windowframes. In the entryway, in a side porch sits several rocking chairs - a place of much discussion on cool summer nights for the whole clan. A small statue of his great grandfather - holding Erastil's holy symbol in one hand and his Sable Company helm in the other reminds him of his own aspirations and talks.
When he enters the house, a sudden pang of regret and worry well up. He's going to have to share the news...and now he's glad his new friends didn't come with him...it will be trying enough without having to explain strangers on the doorstep.
"Goodness, I was worried with fright, Fraz!"The utterance comes from a stout woman, probably of some 60 years, but still spry and alert and a face filled with concern and lack of sleep. Mima has been a loyal handmaid to his mother since she was but a teen - and somehow he's not surprised to find her waiting on him. Like a doting grandmother, she has always been to one to look after the children growing up while Mother and Father mananged to the family trades.
"Your mother has been worried sick that you were hurt in the riots and news of the King's death. Your father didn't say it, but he was thinking you were carousing and got thrown in jail. Are you alright?"
"I'm tired, Mima...it's been a long night, and...and I have something tell Mother and Father in the morning." Fraz clenches his jaw at the next moment.
"Did you find her? Did you find my Little Sparrow?" Uttering Mima's pet name for Eva makes Fraz flinch even more - of all his family she was the only other one that openly held out hope that Eva would return. She was also the one who lost Eva in the crowd that fateful day - guilt being her other companion since this began. She was the one that held vigils whenever Fraz went out on the chase.
"Just get some rest, Mima - we'll talk in the morning - it concerns Endrin Academy. I need some rest now." His lie was to throw her off for a bit; he wanted to tell his story once to everyone - he couldn't bear to recount it too much right now.
She said no more, but quietly went about her morning duties instead. For himself, he made it as far as his father's study - hoping to take a nap before the family rose in full. As he lay down, still covered in sweat, muck and a little blood, he lay down and fell into the oblivious sleep of exhaustion. How long it lasted he didn't know, but soon it was replaced with vague dreams - Varisian women in flowing scarves and skeletal hands muttered curses and prophecies he didn't understand; children giggled and sang songs of dead flowers and evil gnomes; and water flowed everywhere - a dark shape swimming there. He sister stood on the edge of the water - as she turned he saw blood tears flowing from her pleading eyes just before the dark shape tore at her and swallowed her! Her scream punctuated the dream's end, and he awoke with his heart racing and shock in his bones. It was barely morning...but he heard the sounds of his parents speaking with Mima.
DM Pat
When he rises, he gathers them together. He asks about his brothers - one was stranded in North Point with friends, but is safe. The other was delivering gear to Citadel Volshyenek; and was kept there while the riots occurred. Both should return today, he's reassured. Then the question is asked, by his mother, as to what happened last night. There is a little nervous humor when it is joked that he looks like he spent the night in the drunk-tank.
Without much preamble, Fraz reaches into his pocket and reveals his sister's medallion. He places it tightly in his mother hand; and she immediately knows that her daughter would never have parted with it willingly. Her tears come almost instantly. Fraz then recounts what happened as best he can: of how he had found Lamm's hideout (with help); the pitched battle and rescued children; and their confrontation with Gaderen and his alligator. When he hesistantly explains the man's last words about having fed her to Gobbleguts, it's all he can do choke back his anger and sadness. His mother cries and gasps at the tale; while his father merely sits as if transfixed - the final realization that his daughter really is dead leaving him numb as he grasps the medallion as well. It is Mima who seems most quiet; this grand old lady suddenly looking a hundred years old as tears roll down her face .
Fraz embraces her tightly, and then tells the rest of his tale - of seeing Lamm die. But moreso, he tells them of how he killed the monster that ate his sister. Of how he took it's skin, and they may do it with as they wish. He hopes that they will, like him, see it as right they should take the alligator's hide as memorial to his sibiling. He didn't know what else to do.
The rest of the morning is spent in details of what happened; with much emotion and discussion. Eventually, his brothers arrive and the tale is retold again - and much emotion, frustration, and anger is shared. In the end, the family closes shop for the day (not many workers had arrived with the riots, chaos, and Hellknights anyway). Fraz does manage to get a message to the Pantheon and Cole - he'll rejoin with them after he settles things, probably in the evening or following day.
For Cole
A message arrives for you; it's from Fraz.
Friend Cole,
Please forgive my lack of return this day. I didn't sleep last evening, and this morning I have been dealing with telling my family of my sister's death. I know all of Korvosa burns today; but right now my only worry is my family.
I thank you for your help. I'll return to meet with you and our new associates as soon as I can - continue on in my stead until then.
Your friend,
Frasides Francol
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Simn, Cole:
One of the clerics, a young halfling named Nira, comes out, "Oh, no. What is happening now?"
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Simn, Cole:
She gestures to an acolyte by the door. "Watch over this man while I get brother Tor.
"Master Thistlesworth, please come on in. Brother Cole is anxious to see his companions."
Seeing the gnome, Cole's face is a mixture of confusion and fear "What could he be doing here" the cleric thinks to himself, but then sees the wild-eyed companion.
After seeing Nira's lack of initiative in helping this man, Cole rushes over to him, his movements easier now that he removed his heavy armour. Cole will ask the man to lie down, or have the acolyte hold him down, while he investigates what's affecting him, and hoping to tend to the wounds, if possible.
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Cole:
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Cole, Simn:
Cole:
Fraz:
Leliestraat:
Gawain: [spoiler]You are able to return to the Pantheon in the morning without event, if you desire.
"Is my burgeoning skill required here at the gate or are there more talented practitioners of the craft better suited to act as repellents of any insurgent forces?"
Gawain arrives early at the Pantheon, and sits on the steps quietly playing his mandolin, waiting for the others.
His effects gathered, spells prepared, and composure maintained, the elf glides swiftly through the foreboding streets to assemble with the company of fated adventurers.
For DM:
Hey there, although I didn't intend it to match my in-game absence - in RL I have been laid low with a stomach flu for the last five days, but I think I'm back to normal now. Looks like I haven't missed much - but let me know when you are ready for me. Or if you have further questions concerning the backstory. Thanks for your patience.
Simn has experienced a night of tossing and turning, haunted by strange dreams of ill-defined doom. Still, he's made it to the cathedral at a reasonable hour, taking in the state of things along the way. For now, he seems happy to wait on the others to arrive before speaking up.
"Ho, Simn," Gawain calls quietly when the gnome arrives. "You look like you've hardly slept. Everything all right at home?"
Judging the curious state of his new friends, Leliestraat wonders whether it was prudent for them to have parted ways the previous night.
"Thankfully ... or unfortunately, take it as you will," Leliestraat laughs, "I was dismissed from any responsibilities at the Acadamae and I was able to rejoin you all. It seems that my abilities are far to callow for the wizards I study with."
"Has anyone found that their Harrow Card, the one originally sent by our patron, has vanished?" he ask. "Mine seems to have disappeared into the aether."
"And has anyone been contacted by the mystic since our last encounter?"
"Shelyn's naggers!" Gawain exclaims. "My card is gone, too. How strange... I wonder if perhaps the spirit who inhabits the deck has reclaimed them somehow. Are they in the deck?"
"Yeah, just... Bad dreams, you know?" Simn says, "Nothing to worry about. Do we have an agenda for the day?"
"Before that, Simn," Leliestraat says, rising to meet his companion, "Do you have the Harrow Deck we found last night?"
"I would dearly like to examine it ... for just a moment. My curiosity is gnawing at me."
Simn simply nods and brings out the harrow deck for Leliesrtraat to examine. He suspects that the cards they received weren't entirely real to begin with, though how examining the deck is going to prove this one way or another is beyond him.
"Well, what do you make of that?" Leliestraat says with widening eyes.
"Do you think that there is some connection between the two? Or am I merely projecting, if you'll mind the pun, my own insecurities."
"Shall we try her abode or attempt to contact her through these?" he ask, holding the cards outstretched in his hand.
"If the wizards at Acadamae could see me now," he laughs, questioning his own reason as he holds the divining deck with uncertainty.
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Cole shows the others a note that was delivered from Fraz shortly before.
Friend Cole,
Please forgive my lack of return this day. I didn't sleep last evening, and this morning I have been dealing with telling my family of my sister's death. I know all of Korvosa burns today; but right now my only worry is my family.
I thank you for your help. I'll return to meet with you and our new associates as soon as I can - continue on in my stead until then.
Your friend,
Frasides Francol
"I don't know," Simn says, "It can't be easy for her to manifest. I hate to call on her frivolously. Let's see if the priests have any suggestions first."
Gawain gets up and stretches, yawning. "Yes, it can't hurt to talk to the priest again, though I think perhaps we might avoid mentioning a haunted Harrow deck. It occurs to me that some of the things we, uh, found yesterday might have owners; maybe the priests will have some idea about how we might find them."
"If they still live," he adds a moment later, in a low voice.
"I agree," Leliestraat concurs. "We should avoid revealing the existence of a decapitated mystic that communicates with us through a deck of cards from beyond the pale. I am not certain that the priests would approve ... or understand."
"I say we attempt to contact her," the wizard asserts. "The question is whether we summon her here or at that ruin of a home of hers."
"Let's go back to her house before trying to contact her. It would be embarrassing, to say the least, if some acolyte stumbled across us speaking to the dead in a churchyard." Gawain says, with a furtive glance around.
Oh, I just saw the discussion post (no dot, couldn't see it).
Well, I would guess that this is dead.
Not many would like to take over a game midstream.
Too bad. I liked our group.
Guess I can go back to actually reading my Pathfinders instead of just
looking at the covers, reading the editorials, and checking out the fiction.
Good luck to all my companions.
You were all great roleplayers.
And reliable posters. Well, after a fancy.
Cheers!