Clearing your mind of the matter for the moment, you reach out for your spellbook to begin your spell preparations. Your hand finds the leather of the book, but also a bit of cardstock atop it as well. Glancing over, you see what looks like a large playing card resting on the book’s cover. Picking it up, you see an image of a centaur on the front, his face shaded by a broad-brimmed hat and his flanks laden with traveling gear of all sorts. An open book is painted over the image in the top center, and across the bottom “The Wanderer” is blazoned in scroll-like lettering. You recognize it at once as a Harrow card, one signifying an individual who can recognize the value in things others might disregard. Turning the card over, you see a message written on the back:
I know what Gaedran has done to you. He has wronged me as well. I know where he dwells, but cannot strike at him. Come to my home at 3 Lancet Street at sunset. Others like you will be there. Gaedran must face his fate, and justice must be done.
After finishing Aditi’s brushdown, you decide to take her out for a ride around the Marine’s training grounds. You’re still on medical leave, so you can’t patrol, but you both could use the exercise. As you reach for her saddle and tack, though, you find a large playing card poking out of one of her saddlebags. Drawing it out, you see that the front bears an image of a puppet show, where dragon made from a sock and fabric-and-wood warrior do battle with one another. A crown is painted over the image in the top center, and across the bottom the words “The Theater” are emblazoned in scroll-like letters. You recognize it as a Towers card; turning it over, you see there is a message written on the back:
I know what Gaedran has done to you. He has wronged me as well. I know where he dwells, but cannot strike at him. Come to my home at 3 Lancet Street at sunset. Others like you will be there. Gaedran must face his fate, and justice must be done.
At least the Spherewalker blessed your dreams; you flew on butterfly wings through the night sky, while all around you Korvosa’s lights glittered in the darkness. It seemed as though a great fire burned just over the horizon, but for now, all seemed peaceful, and it was so nice to just fly. Nevertheless, morning has come, and another day of searching for clues about your brother with it. You roll out of the bed in your small room, reaching for the wash basin to splash some water on your face. When you begin to pat away the water with a towel, however, you notice something sitting next to the basin’s small mirror: a large playing card from a Harrow deck, such as gamblers use for Towers and the Varisian fortunetellers use to prophesy and scam money.
The card bears the image of a cyclops in a leather apron pouring beer into a large mug, while on the floor nearby, drunken figures lie passed out and senseless. The upper right-hand corner has been painted with a crystal-looking star, and across the bottom, the words “The Publican” are emblazoned in scroll-like letters. Turning the card over, you see a message is written on the back:
I know what Gaedran has done to you. He has wronged me as well. I know where he dwells, but cannot strike at him. Come to my home at 3 Lancet Street at sunset. Others like you will be there. Gaedran must face his fate, and justice must be done.
As you reach for your coat to head out into Korvosa’s streets, you notice a large card, like a playing card or perhaps some fortuneteller’s trinket, sticking out of the pocket. It shows a warrior in golden armor and crested helm, holding a sword in one hand and offering his other out toward the viewer. The top left-hand corner has a hammer painted over it (making you once again think of the soothing rituals of the smithy), and across the bottom the words “The Paladin” are emblazoned. Turning the card over, you see a message is written across the back:
I know what Gaedran has done to you. He has wronged me as well. I know where he dwells, but cannot strike at him. Come to my home at 3 Lancet Street at sunset. Others like you will be there. Gaedran must face his fate, and justice must be done.
Whisk whisk whisk.
When you finish, you set the honing stone down on the table next to your bed in the small inn where you have been sleeping the past few nights. As you do so, you realize there is a large playing card, from a Harrow deck like the ones you often use for paying Towers, on the table right where you were about to place the stone. The front of the card bears an image of massive walking castle, with iron legs and arms, belching smoke from a strange pipe coming out of the roof. All around the castle’s legs are shouting figures waving weapons. In the top center, a hammer has been painted, and at the bottom, the words “The Keep” are emblazoned in scroll-like letters. Turning the card over, you see a message written on the back:
I know what Gaedran has done to you. He has wronged me as well. I know where he dwells, but cannot strike at him. Come to my home at 3 Lancet Street at sunset. Others like you will be there. Gaedran must face his fate, and justice must be done.
Your people speak of a certain joy in life that every sentient being instinctively seeks out, something the elves call “the Brightness,” but it has been some time since you felt any brightness about you. Instead, your days are spent in the dark, in shadowy bars and forgotten back alleys, trying to find someone – anyone – who can tell you where to find your daughter, the man called “Gaedran Lamm,” or both. The hope that Arianna might still be alive is the only Bright thing you can still lay claim to. All else is night.
Today, you rise and dress, moving out into the streets to begin your search once more. A beautiful, graceful elven woman earns many glances from passersby in the streets, but their stares or lewd shouts simply fail to register. You have your mission, and you keep at it. Merchants and dock workers, running children and decrepit beggars, you ask them all, but receive only stares or rude silence for your answers.
Finally, your stomach reminds you that you have not yet eaten, and the sun stands down from its noonday peak. You find a food-seller and ask for a pastry, but find something odd as you reach for your coin purse: tucked into your belt just behind the purse is a large playing card, or rather a Harrow card, such as the Varisian fortunetellers use for their divinations. It shows a giant striding through an ankle-high forest, smiling as he tosses a clock tower, a rowboat, and even a surprised-looking elephant through the air. In the upper right-hand corner, a key has been painted, and along the bottom, the words “The Juggler” are emblazoned in scroll-like letters. In the readings of the Harrowers, the Juggler represents those who manipulate fate or the lives of others, risking chaos on their ability to maintain their rhythm. Turning the card over, you see a message is written on the back:
I know what Gaedran has done to you. He has wronged me as well. I know where he dwells, but cannot strike at him. Come to my home at 3 Lancet Street at sunset. Others like you will be there. Gaedran must face his fate, and justice must be done.
Startled by the appearance of the Harrow card in her belt, Taelreth absently accepts her pastry and proceeds to ignore it in favor of examining the Harrow card. On reading the message, her heart skips a beat, rejoicing in a glimmer of hope after months of hopeless searching. It takes all her willpower not to run straight to the stated address; instead, pastry forgotten, she rushes home to prepare herself.
Her afternoon is spent carefully tending her gear, making sure it is ready to exact justice on Gaedren Lamm. As dusk approaches, she spends several minutes contemplatively holding the flute of her beloved, Arim, finally whispering in Elvish, "Calistria, lend me your sting and restore my daughter to me." Suddenly filled with an energy she has not had in weeks, she double-checks that her chain armor is well-concealed by her clothing and straps on her silver-trimmed sword belt, the onyx in the hilt glinting in the late-day light. Throwing a dark grey cloak over it all, she sets out into the streets, eager to meet the author of the mysterious message.
Crux is surprised by the unexpected letter. He looks around his small apartment as if he expected someone to jump from the shadows at him. He then takes the time to examine it with his 'Mage Sight' (detect magic) before picking it up and reading it. Lamm has more enemies than just me. It seems that Calistria has answered my prayers. Crux considerst that this may be a trap, but quickly decides that it is worth taking that chance. He begins to chuckle with glee at the prospect of finding and killing Gaedran Lamm.
He studies his spells for today, keeping in mind that he might very well come into contact with his old tormentor.
Kazadarin stares at the playing card in his hand, excitement creeping into his mind like a second story thief. ” Gaedran must face his fate, and justice must be done.” He jumps to his feet and begins hurriedly readying his kit. Preparing for the possible battle he has trained for the past 6 years, Kazadrin works as if a man possessed. Belting his Sword to his back he rushes towards the door and stops as if he had hit an invisible wall, slowly he turns to the shabby dresser and picks up a small faded mirror that he had over turned when he occupied the room. His hands shaking slightly, he turns the mirror over and removes his hood. “Others like me.” Kazadarin stairs at his reflection as if looking at a stranger, he doesn’t see the 20 year old man that he has become starring back, all he can see is the scars. The scars left there by Gaedran Lamm. “Time to die Lamm.” Kazadarin places the mirror back on the dresser, and walks out the door.
Crux is surprised by the unexpected letter. He looks around his small apartment as if he expected someone to jump from the shadows at him. He then takes the time to examine it with his 'Mage Sight' (detect magic) before picking it up and reading it. Lamm has more enemies than just me. It seems that Calistria has answered my prayers. Crux considerst that this may be a trap, but quickly decides that it is worth taking that chance. He begins to chuckle with glee at the prospect of finding and killing Gaedran Lamm.
He studies his spells for today, keeping in mind that he might very well come into contact with his old tormentor.
Derrian considers the card carefully. Who could have gotten this here? Obviously another of the marines or one of the stablers. He wasn't aware of anyone with the same situation as he, but who knows.
The young man tucks the card into his pouch and tries to remember the meaning of the Theatre. He and the other marines often play games with the cards, but he knows that there are those who use them to divine the future.
As he takes Aditi out for her ride, his mind is distant. The hippogriff snorts occasionally to bring him out of his reverie, helping to keep him aware of his surroundings. Derrian's stomach is aflutter as he thinks of Lamm, the man who is poisoning Korvosa. Part of him wants to go now, to this place on Lancet Street. Part of him wants to retreat to a shiver den for another hit.
He is distracted. Aditi senses it. Finally he dismounts, leads the beautiful beast back into the paddock and removes her tack. His mind can wander as he brushes her down, and helps preen her feathers. The young man stores the tack in the tack room and moves to the mess, where he eats a small meal, not enough to remove the hunger, but also not enough to come back up .
Later, he looks at the card as he walks down the street, asking a boy in a dirty shirt where to find Lancet Street, and giving the boy a silver for his trouble.
The Theatre, thinks Derrian. Am I to play a bit part that expires before the end of the first act or the hero, who wins out over indomitable odds and gets the girl in the end?
He turns down Lancet Street, card in hand.
Grent sat, the card picture-side up in front of him as he whet his blade, and thought. This is my chance. This might really be it. To send Lamm straight to Pharasma's arms and give Jathal the repose she deserves. He took another long look at the card. I'm no paladin, he thinks darkly. This city doesn't want a savior anyways. The poor are too busy just surviving, the rich want to keep on top, and if us common folk are busy stabbing each other... A loud cracking sound woke him from his reverie. The whetstone he'd been holding in his hand was shattered from his clenched fist.
"Rutting Varisian bull****," he grumbled angrily as he swept the whetstone onto the floor. He strode angrily into his bedroom and pulled his chainmail off of it's shelf. Dropping it over his head, he put his coat back on and picked up his shield. It had been the last thing he'd made, in the days after he'd lost Jathal. It was large and ugly-looking, made out of a dark steel that was no good for any other projects, with savage spikes sticking out of it. While at first it had been simply work to keep his hands busy while his mind was away, the shield had quickly developed a purpose - and that purpose was coming closer and closer.
"Well, boy, looks like it might be today," he said, tilting the shield this way and that, watching how little light was reflected on the dark surface. "Looks like you might get to taste Lamm's blood." Grent fastened the shield on his arm and slipped out the door into the street, en route to Lancet Street.
Evred sits on the edge of his bed, still in his nightclothes. He examines the card, running his fingers along its edges, scrutinizing every stroke of writing and detail of decoration, even rubbing it between his palms and smelling the ink and paper. He holds it in his hands like a small animal. "Are you real, little one? Could it really be so easy? Or is this a lesson in patience and endurance, like so many from the Great Dreamer have been?"
Evred lays the card on the bed while he prepares himself; shaving with a small mirror and putting on his simple temple clothes. After saying his devotions and meditating on possible futures, he rises and nods at the card. "Very well, one does not worship a goddess of luck and travel without taking hold of opportunities." Picking up the Harrow card, he holds it to his mouth and whispers into it, "The time is near, brother. I will set you at ease soon, I promise."
After completing his morning chores, Evred excuses himself with the Rector and dons his sword and armor. He departs from the church of Desna and heads toward the address on the card.
3 Lancet Street is a modest home in a dockside section of Midland, along a street filled with similar residences. Merchants hawk their wares from streetside stands or displays in front of shops, while children run through the crowds and parents hurry past on errands. The front door stands slightly ajar, and no one answers a knock or call, but the smell of incense seems to indicate that someone was here recently.
Within, the front room of the house reveals itself as a cozy chamber filed with the scent of flowers and strong spice. A fragrant haze drifts up from several small incense burners mounted on the walls, each carved to look like a beautiful elf woman with butterfly wings. The smoke itself seems to soften the room's edges and give the whole scene a dreamlike feel. The walls are draped with thick tapestries, including one showing a black-skulled beasts juggling what looks like human hearts, another displaying a pair of angels dancing atop a mountain, and a third depicting a black-cloaked figure wrapped in fog, wielding a flaming sword in one skeletal hand. Several rugs in various eye-catching colors cover the floor, but the room's only actual furnishings are a central circular table covered in a rich red cloth and the seven high-backed woden chairs that surround it. On the table is a basket with some bread in it, a bottle of wine and several small cups, and a note weighted down with a stone. The note reads, "Thank you for coming. I had to step out for a bit, but will return shortly. Please, have a seat and enjoy the bread and wine while you wait."
Crux cautiously walks up to the house and knocks on the door. He calls out as he enters the empty building. Crux steps into the room and over to the side to keep from framing himself within the doorway. He takes in the room and quickly notices the note on the table. After that he scans the room using his mage sight (detect magic). Once he is reasonably sure that all is as it seems, Crux goes over to the table and reads the note. He sits down to wait. He does not consume the food or drink.
Derrian approaches the open door, knocking on the lintel. "Hello?, he asks, poking his head in the door. Seeing the figure sitting at the table, he pulls out the card. "Oh hello. I'm here about this." The young marine holds up the card, image side towards the other person.
Kazadarin Stands in front of 3 Lancet and prepares himself for what he may encounter inside. Companions if the card was on the up and up, or enemies waiting to ambush, he would not know until he tried. ” Well, no one lives forever.” Kazadarin loosens his sword in its scabbard and enters the building.
Holding the card up with his left hand and keeping his right on the hilt of his sword, Kazadin addresses the two men in the room.” I am Kazadarin Darlok and I have come to kill Gaedran Lamm. If you be either partners or foes, lets get after it.”
Grent reaches the house just as someone he doesn't recognize slips inside. Probably one of the others... But a persistent doubt sticks in the back of his head. It'd just be too convenient if Lamm happens to send a pack of sellswords into an address and clean up all the people who've been looking for him at once... I'll wait out here for a minute and see what's up. He moves to the other side of the street, carefully positioning himself so he can watch the door without being seen.
Derrian's arrival: Crux also holds up a card and recites, "I know what Gaedran has done to you. He has wronged me as well. I know where he dwells, but cannot strike at him. Come to my home at 3 Lancet Street at sunset. Others like you will be there. Gaedran must face his fate, and justice must be done." He then points out the note and refreshments on the table. "Our host has left refreshments for us and will return shortly. I have not partaken of, but you are welcome to."
Kazadarin's arrival; Crux looks more closely at the newcomer. "Kazadarin? Kaz? You were one the lambs right? I thought you were dead." The man reaches up to lower his hood. His arms move in an odd not really fluid manner like he has some deformity or injury. "I am Crux. Perhaps you remember me? I too was a lamb." There are scars across his left eye as though some animal clawed him across the face. It's easy to see that his nose was broken and wasn't set right before healing.
Approaching the house, Taelreth is tense...could her months of searching finally be over? Just in case, she loosens her sword in the sheath and calls her magic to the front of her mind. Prepared, she quietly slips inside the open door. Keeping her hood up, she appraises the three men already in the room. Well, they look capable enough. I wonder what Lamm did to them? "I take it you are the 'others' I was told about. I am Tael, and I'm here to get my daughter back."
She pours herself a glass of wine, though she doesn't drink any. She then takes a seat facing the door and takes her hood down, revealing her elven features. For the moment she doesn't speak any further, keeping her thoughts to herself. These are strange circumstances...I hope I am not making a mistake in coming here.
Crux holds up his card for the woman. He points out the cards that the other two men have as well.
Evred stops in front of 3 Lancet Street, holding his Harrow card to his chest and looking about. Satisfied that no one has prepared an ambush or is spying, he takes a deep breath and steps inside...
And is surprised to find a cozy picnic attended by dangerous-looking individuals. He clears his throat, sounding very hesitant. "Um, hello? My name is Evred Harvaldar. I am a priest of Desna. I got, I got this." Holds up the Harrow card. "Is this the right place?"
Making his way to the table, he reads the note and sighs in relief. "Oh, good. I was worried that I had intruded. Did you all get cards like this? Mysterious, isn't it? I wonder when our mutual acquaintance will arrive."
While others are speaking, Evred will unobtrusively use detect magic and scan the contents of the room.
Evred stops in front of 3 Lancet Street, holding his Harrow card to his chest and looking about. Satisfied that no one has prepared an ambush or is spying, he takes a deep breath and steps inside...
While others are speaking, Evred will unobtrusively use detect magic and scan the contents of the room.
Lowering the card and removing his hand from his sword Kazadarin takes a long look at Crux.”Yeah I do remember you. It looks as if you graduated from the Lambs the same way I did.” He reaches up and removes his hood exposing the burn scars that covers the right side of his face and the hole where his right ear should be. “Even as damaged as we are, at least we are alive to seek vengeance on that whoreson Lamm.”
Looking around the room, Kazadarin takes stock of the people in it. ”Looks as if Lamm hasn’t only touched us with his maliciousness. It looks like he has acquired quite the fan club.’
Evred winces slight at Kazadarin's words, but tries to keep a smile on his face, "It is odd to call it a 'fan club.' After all, I assume most of us would like to see him brought to justice; and if I am guessing right, it would be the vigilante kind." Evred turns to Crux with sadness in his eyes, "Did Lamm do that to you? On purpose?"
Taelreth becomes increasingly concerned as Crux and Kazadarin reveal their scars. Shelyn protect my Arianna...wherever is our host? I have waited long enough for this day...
... "Did Lamm do that to you? On purpose?"
There's a fire in Crux's eyes. "No." He rasps as he once again hides his face within the shadows of his hood. "Lamm meant to do worse." He let's that comment stay there a moment before continuing. "My name is Crux. Kaz and I have an obvious reason to be after Lamm. The elf is seeking some family. Why are you two after him?"
Evred nods, understanding how difficult it can be to discuss some things. "I was once one of his 'lambs.' I escaped, thank Desna. I was able to move on and achieve some measure of peace. A few years ago I discovered that I have... had a half-brother also under the rule of Lamm. He did not escape. I would like to know what happened to him, and bring this man the justice he deserves." Whether Evred is speaking of his brother or Gaedren is not obvious.
Kazadarin looks at Evred for a few seconds. ”You were one of the few lucky ones then.” He then then turns and looks at the fair Tael. ”I will lend my arms to rescue your daughter, no child should ever have to suffer as one of his Lambs, and I will stay my hand long enough for you all to ask your questions, but Lamm will die, of this I assure you.”
Tael acknowledges Kazadarin's words with a tilt of her head, and replies, "Thank you. I, for my part, will help you find the vengeance you seek. I came here thinking to slay the man myself, but I think Crux and yourself have greater claim to the deed; for I may yet recover what Lamm has taken from me, gods willing."
A middle-aged human woman, dressed in a simple but well-made dress with her black-grey hair tied up in a scarf, turns the corner and walks purposefully up the street toward 3 Lancet. She pauses just at the doorway, though, then turns and strides directly over to Grent. "We cannot begin until you are all present, good sir," she says cheerfully and without preamble, "and all the rest are already inside. Your caution is certainly warranted, especially dealing with a man such as Lamm, but I assure you, our goals are the same, and you have nothing to fear from me."
Derrian listens to the others carefully in silence, trying to gauge them. "I am Derrian Thews. Marine of the Sable Company. Through my own shortcomings, I became addicted to shiver. Lamm was my go-to guy, and...", the young marine shivers, despite the warmth of the building, ...when I told Lamm I was off the stuff and was turning him in, be slipped me a final dose. One I almost did not survive." Derrian sits for a moment, his face reddened at his admission of the addiction, but his heart feeling infinitely lighter. "I have just as much reason to see Lamm brought to justice, or removed from the position to poison others. I would like to think even he can be rehabilitated, but for the wrongs he has done on all of you, and countless others...", his voice trails off. He pours a glass of wine but does not drink.
Grent nods ashamedly at being caught so red-handed at trying to be inconspicuous. He follows the woman into 3 Lancet without any further ado.
Upon entering the room, he surveys the other people in the room silently, then strides to the far side, where he stands, back to the wall, watching the room full of people, especially the woman who brought them all here.
The woman in the simple dress and head-scarf leads Grent into the room, seating herself at the table. She eyes the full wine glasses in Taelreth's and Derrin's hands, and the otherwise untouched bread and wine, but shrugs and moves the basket off the table to set it in a corner, out of the way.
"Please, everyone, sit," she says to those still standing, gesturing at the remaining empty chairs. "I want to start by thanking you all for coming, and for putting up with my unconventional means of contacting you. I have reason to remain hidden, you see - a terrible man would see great harm to me if he knew I was reaching out for help. This is a man you know, for he has done something terrible to each of you as well." She studies the burn scars on Crux's face, and the vicious gashes on Kaz's, for a moment, before shaking her head compassionately and continuing. "I speak, of course, of Gaedran Lamm, a man whose cruelty and capacity for destroying the lives of those he touches is matched only by his gift for avoiding reprisal.
"My name is Zellara, and I am just a simple fortuneteller." From within her dress, she produces a deck of large cards, the art of which clearly matches the cards each of you received. "A year ago, Lamm's thieves stole this, my Harrow deck, from me. It is important to me, an heirloom passed down through a dozen generations, and also my sole means of support. When pickpockets stole it, my son, Eran, tracked them down. The thieves were in the employ of Gaedran Lamm, and in reward for finding them, Gaedran murdered my son.
"I sought help from the Guard, but they turned me away. And so I asked around. I paid bribes. I consulted my Harrow deck for advice. And recently, I was rewarded - I found out where Gaedran dwells. He can be found in an old fishery north of here at Westpier 17, where he trains his abducted children to be pickpockets and counts his stolen treasures." Now her gaze goes to Taelreth, and the elf sees a mother's knowledge of a lost child reflected in Zellara's eyes.
"And so, I need your help," Zellara says at last. "I cannot hope to face this man myself; I am an old woman, with nothing but my cards to protection. The Guard cannot help, and even if they would, they move so slowly that Gaedran would doubtlessly hear of it and disappear long before they arrived. Even should they arrest him - how could I know for certain he would be punished? Lamm has evaded the law for decades. So, instead, I turn to you. My cards lead me to those who could help me gain my revenge, for each of you has been wronged as well."
She lays the Harrow deck on table with a sharp smack. "So there we are. It is time for Gaedran Lamm to pay."
” Long ago, I pledged that I would kill him for what he had done to me. Now, before you all, I pledge to take vengeance on Lamm for what he has done to everyone in this room, and for all of the evil he has done to the people who’s lives he has ruined through his vile actions.” He draws his sword and places it on the table. “You have my sword Zellara, I will not rest until it is bathed in the blood of Gaedran Lamm.”
Kaz turns to look at the others. “Who stands with me?”
As Zellara finishes speaking, Taelreth takes a sip of the wine in her hand, then sets the cup down on the table. She speaks quietly, "I had no inkling of the scope of Gaedren's atrocities. I thought to hunt him down myself; but I will gladly stand with you all to bring him to justice." She draws her sword as well, the black gems in the hilt glimmering in the candlelight, and lays it on the table alongside Kazadarin's.
The priest of Desna stands, drawing his bastard sword from the scabard on his back. He holds the sword by the blade with his gauntleted hand, hilt over his heart. "By the Tender of Dreams, we will cleanse this ugliness from the face of Golarion." Evred places his blade beside the others on the table.
"Old fishery north of here at Westpier 17." Repeats Crux. Anger flashing in his eyes.
"Agreed," Grent says quietly. He sets his cruelly curved blade in the center with the others.
Derrian listens to the woman's words and as all the others lay their blades on the table, he draws his. "The common people of Korvosa deserve a better life than those offered by Lamm and the like. I knew he was a criminal. Now is the time he must pay." The man lays his blade down on the table beside the others.
Zellara smiles. "I knew the cards had not lead me astray," she murmurs. Before you go, though, I would like to perform a Harrow reading for you, that you may better prepare yourselves for what lies ahead; free of charge, of course."
She picks up her deck and begins sorting through the cards quickly, a loook of concentration on her face. After a moment's thought, she murmurs to herself, "All beginnings are doors, and every door requires a key," nodding in satisfaction. With that, she quickly selects and removes nine specific cards from the deck, laying them face down on the table for a moment before scooping them up quickly to shuffle them with several quick snaps. This done, she smoothly fans them out and offers them to each of member of the group, so that they may be drawn and replaced after revealing the card to everyone.
Harrow roll
You gotta love the dice roller.
Kazadarin's card is called "The Cricket," and shows the insect wearing a top hat and coat, shuffling cards, next to a peach stabbed through with a rapier. "A creature nimble of mind and body," Zellara murmurs. "Travel and quick thinking will carry you through to your goals."
Grent's card is "The Locksmith," and carries the image of a cloaked figure standing outside a building, pulling a hand whose fingers are keys out from beneath its robes. "You have the tools necessary to find your destiny," Zellara tell him, "but perhaps not yet the wisdom to understand them."
Taelreth draws "The Avalanche," a horde of stones rushing down a steep slope that somehow form a roaring face and clenched fist as they sweep away a lone traveler's wagon. "You are caught in the grip of events, something too large to understand your fears," Zellara tells her, the sympathy welling up again in her eyes.
Derrian's card is "The Demon's Lantern," which shows three differently-colored lights floating through a swamp, while beneath them a hand reaches up out of the dark waters in desperate hope of something to cling to. "You have been lead astray," Zellara tells him, "but I cannot say if you will find your way out from the darkness."
Cruz draws his card... and discovers it, too, is "The Avalanche." Zellara's eyes widen. "Your fate and hers," and she nods in Taelreth's direction, "are bound together for a time. Together you will face the tide, and either crest it or be swept away."
Once the choosing is completed, Zellara reclaims all the cards, shuffling them quickly and with a master's grace. The cards seem to almost float in her hands as she lays nine of them out across the table, face down, in a perfectly aligned three-by-three spread, edges to perfectly lined up she might have measured them. After studying the placement for a moment, the fortuneteller flips over the three leftmost cards, revealing "The Owl" (an owl holding a wand), "The Joke" (a laughing giant), and "The Teamster" (a gnome "riding" and flogging a half-orc).
"You have, each of you, gained experiences from your past that have shaped you and prepared you for what is to come," Zellara intones, touching the Owl and the Teamster. "For many of you, these were not things you would have desired - indeed, the learning cost you much - but they have strengthened you, made you what you are today. The final piece of that experience has brought you here, to me, to begin your quest." Her finger lands on the Joke, and an expression flickers across her face that can't quite be read.
Zellara then turns her attention to the center row of cards as she reveals them as well: "The Vision" (a carpenter being struck by a lightning bolt), "The Big Sky" (a man with broken chains raising his arms to the sun), and "The Rabbit Prince" (a crowned rabbit in court finery carrying a broken sword). Zellara studies the pattern, then continues her reading. "Now, guided by mystic forces," and she smiles slightly, "you start your journey to throw off the chains of the past. What has restrained you will be overthrown, but the means will be bloody." She shakes her head at that last, and the smile fades.
After another short pause, Zellara reveals the final set of cards: "The Sickness" (a plague-ridden figure clutching at vegetables), "The Rakshasa" (a crocodile-headed figure in a topcoat and tails, holding a teacup), and "The Dance" (a swirling dervish holding a staff). Zellara's breath catches as she turns over the final card, and she studies it with great intensity. "There is an order and a structure to what will unfold," she whispers, "but beware the promise of peace and tranquility it holds. Death and tyranny follow behind it, and a dagger lies hidden in every benevolent smile..." She shudders, and then falls back into her chair, refusing to look at the cards again.
Kazadarin's card is called "The Cricket," and shows the insect wearing a top hat and coat, shuffling cards, next to a peach stabbed through with a rapier. "A creature nimble of mind and body," Zellara murmurs. "Travel and quick thinking will carry you through to your goals."
Grent's card is "The Locksmith," and carries the image of a cloaked figure standing outside a building, pulling a hand whose fingers are keys out from beneath its robes. "You have the tools necessary to find your destiny," Zellara tell him, "but perhaps not yet the wisdom to understand them."
Taelreth draws "The Avalanche," a horde of stones rushing down a steep slope that somehow form a roaring face and clenched fist as they sweep away a lone traveler's wagon. "You are caught in the grip of events, something too large to understand your fears," Zellara tells her, the sympathy welling up again in her eyes.
Derrian's card is "The Demon's Lantern," which shows three differently-colored lights floating through a swamp, while beneath them a hand reaches up out of the dark waters in desperate hope of something to cling to. "You have been lead astray," Zellara tells him, "but I cannot say if you will find your way out from the darkness."
Cruz draws his card... and discovers it, too, is "The Avalanche." Zellara's eyes widen. "Your fate and hers," and she nods in Taelreth's direction, "are bound together for a time. Together you will face the tide, and either crest it or be swept away."
Evred's card is "The Rabbit Prince" . "The scion of nobility, but violence has taken its toll on you and yours," Zellara whispers. "You carry your father's blade, but only shards of his legacy remain."
Evred furrows his brow, trying to understand the Harrow reading. "Fortune-telling is a sacred art to Desna, as the patroness of luck. But I must admit, I do not see the meaning behind the cards. Perhaps as our task unfolds the meaning will come to us." Standing from his chair, he sheathes his sword and bows to Zellara, "I thank you for the hospitality and for organizing this meeting. Does anyone have preparations to make, or shall we be off?"
Taelreth listens attentively through the reading, sipping her wine periodically. Her face darkens at Zellara's mention of 'bloody means' and 'death and tyranny', fearing that Zellara is foretelling that she will be unable to return to a quiet life with Arianna. The Avalanche...is this the end of it, or just the beginning?
"I am ready; let us depart immediately. My Arianna has suffered long enough."
Kazadarin adjust his equipment and checks his weapons. After he is finished he looks across the table at his new companions, ”I for one am ready to see justice handed out. The only thing left to figure out is how we go about it. Does anyone know any information about Lamm’s hideout?”
Knowledge: Local :