| Alex Y |
We are formally kicking off the Curse of the Crimson Throne Adventure Path using 4E rules this week! I hope to devote at least an hour a week to this thread; the first post comes from the player of the Hellknight Haras (and my DM for my previous thread on the Rise of the Runelords). Enjoy!
***
A simple gold ring.
It was all that remained – a band of shining metal, where once there was a quick smile, bright eyes, and warm breath. She is gone and all I have is this gold ring.
We came to this city to forge a life together. We wanted a better life than living with the tribe, something more, something better for our children. We thought we would find it here: Korvosa, the shining beacon of civilization. But it was a lie.
Korvosa, the city of lies. It lies about its laws. It lies about its protections. The citizens are just dogs running in the street, s%&&ting and eating wherever the fancy takes them. The thieves, the murderers, the cheating merchants, the corrupt courts: all lies. Like dogs, they should be taught their place, brought to heel, or – if they cannot be taught – put out of their misery.
She went to gather flowers, in the park. She said she had seen some wild roses by the pond. I was to stay awake and wait for her after my shift, but she did not return even after the noon bells tolled. I went looking for her, but found only roses…scattered, their petals stained a dark crimson. Amidst the stinking mud and bloody roses, I found a large tooth, curious and dull. I followed the muddy tracks, calling upon skills I thought I would never need to use again, but lost them in the sewers. Blindly, I wandered in those dark, stinking tunnels, finding nothing. Nothing but rats and s!$*.
Still stinking, I went to the guard. I told them of what had happened. I filed a report as a good citizen should do. But I could see the lies in their eyes. I could see them laughing at me, a tribesman in the city, asking them for help. I heard the laughter as I left the office. She was just another victim, in a city full of them.
Knowing that no one would help me, I began my own search. I wandered the streets, looking for clues, asking questions of anyone who would speak to me. I lost my job, and spent what little money we had saved on “fees” and bribes. My searches led to a crooked merchant, a man who sold cast-off trinkets. Among his stock was the ring. The ring I had given her to pledge my love. Enraged, I asked him where he had gotten it. He told me it was Gaedren Lamm who sold it to him. I had heard rumors of this man, a man that profited from children and murder. A man rumored to have a pet crocodile. I asked the merchant how he could profit off of murder, how he could take something from such a man. He answered that money is money. I flew at him, arms flailing, causing the ring to fly into the air. As if time slowed, I watched as the ring landed in a black mailed fist.
Standing next to me was a vision from the Hells: his helm was horned, his limbs were spiked, and a gigantic face glared at me from the center of his armored chest. A Hellknight. I knew of them, but never had met one. And here I was, assaulting a Chel.
The merchant began babbling at the Hellknight. He claimed that he did not know that the goods were stolen. The knight said nothing, and almost gently placed the ring in my hand. While the merchant begged for mercy, the knight pulled four long, iron nails from his pouch. From his belt he slowly pulled a hammer.
The merchant passed out before the first nail was hammered in.
***
I found the rigid strictures of Citadel Vraid comforting. I knew what was expected of me every day. If the penalties for failure were harsh, they were no more than I deserved. The days were easy, but the nights were unbearable. At night, we were left in our bare cells to contemplate what we had learned during the day. But all I could do was stare at the simple gold ring. Hellknight Mortigan had given it to me when he brought me in. He said that it would either strengthen me or break me. And he was right. It was breaking me every night.
A simple gold ring. Perfectly round, flawless, but weak. Like me. Melt me down and re-forge me in iron, I prayed, but nothing answered my prayers. And nothing dulled the pain.
| Alex Y |
Glad you liked it! We have a very interesting mix of PC personalities, if I may say so myself. :)
***
The man with the close-cropped, salt-and-pepper hair burped softly and brushed a bread crumb off of his vest. “So…what are we waiting for? I mean, I don’t have anything better to do with my time, but the note on my yellow ticket of leave explicitly mentioned Gaedren. I assume that’s why you’re here, elf?”
The elf in brown and green nodded solemnly. “I am here for Gaedren Lamm.”
The man smiled widely, and called out to the woman standing near the front door. “What do you say, sweetheart? Let’s get this show on the road!”
The woman sighed and turned to face her guests. “Pardon Monsieur – I just thought there would be more of you. But time and tide wait for no man…” With a practiced flourish, the woman fanned the cards in her Harrow deck and began to tell a most interesting story.
When the woman finished, the man addressed the elf: “Do you believe her?”
The elf shook his head, but then shrugged. “I have nothing better to do with my time.”
“Alrighty then. Follow me – I was just at the Westpier the other day.”
***
The evening bell tolled ten times. The gnome guarding the old fishery was so focused on lighting his pipe that he failed to notice the approaching shadows until a floorboard squeaked behind him. When he regained consciousness, he was bound, gagged, and blindfolded. He started to struggle, but froze when he heard the sound of a long blade purposefully clearing its sheathe.
“Good evening,” intoned a male voice to his right. “We have a few questions, and hope you can help. If I remove your gag, will you promise to answer truthfully and not make a fuss?” The gnome nodded vigorously. “Excellent. Where’s Gaedren Lamm?”
The gnome considered lying, but then he heard the sound of a second long blade being drawn. “In his bed, asleep! Please don’t kill me – I’m just a guard. I don’t know anything.”
“Where is his bedroom?”
“Just down the stairs, under the fishery. You can’t miss it,” the gnome promised. “Please don’t kill me – I don’t deserve it.”
The man opened his mouth, as if to say something, but then decided to replace the gnome’s gag. “Relax. My friends and I are just going for a walk – we’ll be back later to untie you.”
***
“What do you think?” the man asked the elf as the evening bell began to toll again.
“It’s a trap. The boardwalk is probably rigged to collapse under anyone heavier than a child (or a gnome). We should swim to the fishery.”
The man nodded. “Sounds like a plan – I’ll follow you.” One bloody encounter with a jigsaw shark later, the man reconsidered. “That was a lousy plan. What if the gnome was lying? Maybe Gaedren is sleeping aboard that barge. Follow me.” Many painful spider bites later, the man reconsidered again. “Scratch that – that was an even worse plan. Let’s go back to your plan, and hurry – looks like we woke up the fishery.” The elf nodded, and led the way up a shallow boat launch…where he came face-to-face with a sluggish (but still menacing) alligator.
The alligator lunged forward, jaws snapping, but the elf somersaulted away with inches to spare. As the man sprinted for the stairs, the elf sank three arrows into the beast, followed quickly by two more. “Cake,” the elf pronounced as the alligator died.
Not to be outdone, the man ambushed the first person to open the door at the top of the stairs; with a giggle, the ugly half-orc fell down the stairs and died. Pressing his advantage, the man vaulted over a wildly barking dog and flung his bloody knife at the lantern held by a blond man in silk pajamas. “Light! Someone light a light!” the blond man demanded as panicked children ran for cover and began calling for Gaedren.
“Light, light! Gaedren, Gaedren!” the man with salt-and-pepper hair mimicked as he slowly crept atop a wooden barrel. Moments later, an old man peeked carefully around an enormous wooden vat, with a candle in one hand and a small crossbow in the other.
“Gaedren,” the elf snarled and pinned the old man to the vat with an arrow. To his annoyance, Gaedren fainted. “Sit,” the elf growled at the blond man as he nocked another arrow. To his surprise, the blond man sat (and the dog did, too). “Everybody shut up!” the elf yelled. To his delight, the fishery immediately quieted down.
“Nicely done, monsieur elf,” the man with salt-and-pepper hair said as he pulled the arrow out of Gaedren’s shoulder and eased him to the floor. “Can you revive him? I was kind of hoping he’d put up more of a fight.” The elf nodded, and produced a small vial that he waved beneath Gaedren’s nose.
With a snort, the old man jerked upright. “Who are you? What do you want?”
“Are you serious? You send me to prison for twenty years and you don’t remember me? I’m Liberty de la Coeur!”
“Sorry kid; you Varisians all look alike to me.”
“What about me?” asked the elf. “Do you remember me?”
Gaedren blinked, his eyes rheumy with age. “Yes…you’re Val…Valor…Valerie! Why did you shoot me, Valerie?”
“My name is Valance! Shoot you? I ought to violate you, you…you a@*#%#$!”
“We had good times though, didn’t we?” The old man chuckled weakly. “Seriously, what do you guys want? You’re scaring my poor kids half to death.”
“This sucks.” Liberty looked at Valance. “This f@~@ing sucks.” Liberty yelled at the cowering children. “Where’s the f$%!ing begging?” With a casual flick of his knife, Liberty slit Gaedren’s throat from ear to ear. “C’mon elf – we’re leaving.”
And that was when the Hellknight kicked open the front door.
| Alex Y |
They say that darkness lurks in every heart: a hint of iniquity in every paladin of Iomedae, a whiff of cruelty in every cleric of Shelyn. The darkness may lurk for a lifetime, but it is always there…biding its time, waiting until the flesh is weak, until the heart is broken, until the pain is too much. And then it strikes, consuming that person, filling him with dark urges: urges to make others suffer, urges to make others pay.
In my dreams, I confront Gaedren Lamm just steps away from the bloody roses. As he begs for forgiveness, I dream that I reach into his chest and squeeze. As blood washes over my hands, I wait for a sense of relief, for a feeling of freedom. But I feel nothing. And the dream never changes.
***
I looked at the Harrow card curiously: a Shoanti couple clasping hands under a full moon. It was waiting for me in my cell when I returned from my patrol, but the message on its back sent me back out into the streets again. I cursed my luck, for it was almost midnight – did I miss my chance? I arrived at Lancet Street just in time to see the unmistakable figure of the priestess Zhaan emerging from a townhouse: touched by Gozreh, her skin was seafoam green and her tattoos were electric blue. Over six feet tall, she towered over other Varisians (and some Shoanti, too). She did not seem surprised to see me.
“Zellara said you would come,” she said as she shut the door behind her.
“Where is Lamm?” I asked, not caring who or what Zellara was.
Zhaan looked at me coolly, and then turned on her heels. “Follow.”
I knew that Zhaan had been looking for a missing child. ‘Assuming he is still alive,’ I told her last week, ‘he won’t be a child any more. Not after Lamm has his way with him.’ I do not think she appreciated the truth. But I followed.
When we reached the fishery, I drew upon my pact with Avaxial and, with infernal strength coursing through my body, kicked in the door. The Varisian cutthroat and the elf archer looked up with alarm, but I ignored them. I laid my hands upon the body, but it was just a shell: soulless and dead. Nevertheless, I began to nail Lamm to the wall. As blood dripped slowly from my gauntlets, I felt no relief, no freedom – only cold, iron emptiness. Was this what I wanted?
The person I was, the dreams we had: dead as those flowers by the pond. Murdered. For what?
For nothing.
As the last nail was driven in, the midnight bells began to toll. They kept tolling, long past twelve strokes, but it was not until later that I understood why: ‘The King is dead! The King is dead!’ people cried on the streets, howling like so many dogs.
We went our separate ways: the priestess with a gaggle of orphans, the Varisian and the elf together, and I alone. Somehow, I knew I would see them again.
| Alex Y |
Thanks! It's good to be back, and I hope you enjoy our story. I plan to alternate between a 1st person narrative (based on posts from my players) and a 3rd person summary (from my perspective), for as long as we keep playing.
***
“You look happy,” Melyia Arkona observed as her cousin Glorio sauntered into the dining room and leaned in for a kiss that lingered for a heartbeat too long. “Did you hate Eodred that much?”
The Lord Arkona sniffed at his carpaccio disdainfully. “Eodred was a t&*+, undeserving of my hatred. His lovely wife on the other hand…such a hateful, delicious dish. I can’t wait to see how she’s going to f&#! up. Did you see the sun rise today? Blood red!”
Melyia licked her fingers delicately. “Isn’t that some sort of warning, about sailors?”
“Sounds familiar, but it doesn’t matter: change is in the air! I can feel it!”
***
On the 16th of Pharast, flanked by Archbishop Ornher Reebs of the Temple of Asmodeus and Archbanker Darb Tuttle of the Bank of Abadar, Queen Ileosa bravely addressed the crowd gathered in Domina's Square. Though all knew that she had once relegated Korvosa, the greatest city in Varisia, to the status of a backwater colonial village, the Queen vowed to redeem herself in the eyes of her people. Though she spent her last four years as the plaything of a beloved-yet-spendthrift king, Ileosa sorrowfully recalled, she promised to spend the next four years helping Korvosa become the most glorious city in the world. “If you do not agree that I have succeeded in this task when we celebrate the last day of summer in four year’s time,” she solemnly intoned as magic helped carry her voice and veiled image around the Square, “I promise to step down from the Crimson Throne!”
As plebeians and patricians alike wondered (quietly) at the Queen’s sanity, she proceeded to describe a series of sweeping reforms:
- A kingdom-wide Census, accompanied by Tax Reforms and Social Welfare programs to uplift the Needy, with a Royal Investment of not less than a Million Silver Sails annually in these programs.
- Amendment of the Contract between Korvosa and the Order of the Nail, in order to reduce expenses and curtail Hellknight operations in the City Proper.
- Promotion of Commandant Marcus Thalassinus Endrin, leader of the Sable Company, to interim Seneschal of Castle Korvosa. “The current Seneschal, Neolandus Kalepopolis,” Queen Ileosa observed neutrally, “has been missing since the death of King Eodred II.”
- Expansion of the Korvosan Guard under Field Marshal Cressida Kroft, to “help insure Domestic Tranquility, provide for the Common Defense, and promote Social Welfare”.
- Nationalization of Farms, Ranches, the Ironworks, and other necessary Industries so that Food and Materials may be equitably and efficiently distributed.
***
Lord Glorio Arkona shook his head as he watched the crowd around him seethe with anger and rage. “She is so f&*@ed,” he pronounced to his cousin as hooligans began throwing stones and rotten vegetables at the Guard, at the Hellknights, and at other targets of opportunity.
“As much as I’d like to see how this turns out,” Melyia responded, “we should leave before this turns into a riot.”
Glorio chewed his lip, but then smiled and began urging his chariot through the crowd. “As the lady wishes.”
| Alex Y |
I decided to kick off this game with a riot in Domina Square, and ran it as a combination skill challenge/combat. Depending on the skills used by each PC, I decided that they would either confront a mob or confront an instigator. Haras the Hellknight decided to use Intimidate, and actually totaled over 26 on five consecutive skill checks! Not only did he help the Order of the Nail shepherd the Queen to the Castle, he even helped rescue the Korvosan Guard (played by a fellow PC).
***
It became abundantly clear to me why the entire Order had turned out in force today: the Queen had gone mad, and her people were going to lynch her. ‘Truncheons out!’ I heard the Lictor shout, followed shortly by ‘Wedge to the Castle! Protect the Queen!’ We were outnumbered ten to one by the mangy curs, but I guess that is why they pay us the gold sails.
I screamed my disgust at the rioters. “Desist or be destroyed!” I thundered, as my squad and I pushed into the crowd. I could hear Avaxial whispering his encouragement in my ear, and could feel the red-hot wrath of Asmodeus blister the air around me, turning aside the sticks and stones that threatened me and my fellow Hellknights. I swung my truncheon again and again, infernal strength coursing through my limbs, and struck down all who refused to yield.
‘Surge right!’ I heard the Lictor shout again. ‘Clear the Square – the Guard will hold the line!’ We charged forward as instructed, leaving the Queen and her guests with the Field Marshal and a contingent of Korvosan Guards. I delivered my ultimatum again and again, and helped disperse all who dared stand before us. It was not until we had reached the Crest Circle entrance of Domina Square that we realized that the Guard had been overrun. Instead of fighting back, bloodied guardsmen were slowly but surely retreating up the stairs carved into the face of the pyramid.
‘Hammer and anvil! Show no mercy!’ the Lictor commanded. We turned as one, and charged the rabble on the pyramid. I drew my warmace, and smote the rioters with all the fury of the Nine Hells. I Cursed a particularly ornery-looking Chel, and promised him a painful, agonizing death if he should choose to strike another blow. Confronted by relentless devils in black iron, he and his fellows chose instead to turn tail and run.
| Alex Y |
Thanks for reading! Hope everyone had a lovely holiday break -- here's a little something from Liberty's player.
***
Twenty years without a shot of whiskey or a warm bed. Twenty years breaking rocks in the cold sun.
I tried to tell them. I tried to tell them that the letter was a knife to someone’s throat, but they didn’t listen. They couldn’t see it. It was just a letter, just words on paper. Well, I spent twenty years in chains because a man signed a piece of paper, and I know a knife to the throat when I see one. It’s against my principles to give up leverage: a man hands me an angle, I play it. Like the scorpion, I can’t escape my nature.
But they said hand it over. Not to the throat it was pressed against, but to another hand. Give it to the girl, they said, she’ll do the right thing. They couldn’t see it; it was just a piece of paper to them. But it was a knife to the throat – it was gold in the hand. They thought there were people in the world who would just throw that gold away. Twenty years breaking rocks, twenty years in chains for the crime of having an empty belly. Twenty long years taught me one lesson: there aren’t people like that in the world.
There’re just people like me.
“You know, the Yard is really quite pretty in the spring,” Liberty observed as he, Valance, and Zhann were escorted through Citadel Volshyenek by the watch sergeant. “Are those crepe myrtles?”
“I think so,” Valance replied. “Have you been here before?”
Liberty gestured vaguely as the trio stopped at the entrance to the infirmary. “Not here, per se, but lower. I served part of my sentence here.”
“Really? For what?”
“Stealing bread.” Liberty shrugged. “I was young. Hey, is that the Field Marshal?”
“I think so…and she’s heading this way.”
Though no longer clad in red drakescale, the Field Marshal still walked slowly and deliberately. Dismissing the watch sergeant with a nod, she addressed the trio directly: “Priestess. Gentlemen. Thank you for coming. My name is Cressida, and I wanted to personally thank you for your bravery and your civic mindedness. Without your help, Sunday’s riot would have been much worse. As you can see, many of my guards were injured.”
Zhann nodded. “You are very welcome, Field Marshal. I’ll do what I can, but I do not think I can fully heal this many men…”
Cressida shook her head with a tired smile. “Thank you for offering, but we have an exclusive maintenance contract with the Church of Abadar – procuring services from a servant of Gozreh the Gozlarian will undoubtedly upset my accountant.” The Field Marshal motioned for the trio to follow. “Speaking of the Church…Master Delacour, I was told that you were wearing white and gold vestments when you brokered peace between the ironworkers and the merchants. Yet you are clearly an Acadamae wizard.”
Liberty feigned surprise, and smoothed the velvet panels on his robe. “Me? A wizard? No no no…it’s just that robes are terribly comfortable, and I think everyone will be wearing them in the future. I am actually a professional negotiator.”
“Really?” Cressida looked impressed, and ushered them into her office. “In that case, I wish to retain your services as agents of the Guard. I sincerely hope that you will say yes, because I need help with a few delicate situations.”
Liberty spoke first, after the Field Marshal finished talking. “Let me get this straight: you want us to bring in Vancaskerkin because he is giving away meat from the slaughterhouse that used to belong to one of his men, but which your queen nationalized?”
“She is your queen, too,” Cressida retorted. “And yes, I would like you to bring him in because…”
“We are not Chelaxian,” Liberty interrupted, “and you don’t want to increase racial tensions. No offense, but I really don’t think arguing over free food is the best use of my time. Surely there are other…Varisians…who would be willing to pay Vancaskerkin a discrete visit. At night.”
Cressida rolled her eyes. “So you’d rather negotiate with the King of Spiders?”
Liberty paused, and tried to forget the cat-sized spiders that infested the barge moored near Gaedren’s fishery. “Absolutely,” he lied with a smile.