Vesera seeing how Vyshael examines his card pulls her own from her pocket as well. He might be right after all, the card could be cursed or maybe they get lucky.
Of course it would be enough if she simply showed him, and took his word for it. But did she really know him? Know that she could truely trust him? No maybe best if she does it herself.
So she speaks the words to detect magic as well, and looks at her own card.
The cards do not resonate any form of magic...
Noticing Vesara's actions, Vyshael says dryly, "I may not have graduated, but I've been able to cast detect magic reliably for years now. Even before I started at the Academae, in fact."
He then flips his card in his fingers, "In any case, this card is completely mundane... and from what I can see, so is yours... But, by all means, let me know if your own spell reveals anything different."
"Oh, I have no doubt you're incredibly skilled in everything you do, not just detecting magic." she gives him that smile again "However, as an old saying goes 'four eyes see more than two', and that's the case with this as well. It's just a little cantrip after all."
"Anyway, I really need to be on my way now. I have the bad feeling that there is alot of work waiting for me at home, after last night's events. It's maybe to much to hope for that my neighborhood has been spared."
She turns to leave towards Old Korvosa "So, will you be there?"
"Indeed. Let us hope that fate continues to side with us." Standing and stretching, he says, "I'm going to head to my room to write for a bit. There are thoughts and stories that may spill out of the gash in my head and I need to catch them. I will be out again tonight - I have an...appointment to attend. Don't wait up. As if you ever do."
With that, Yenrry heads to his room and spends the rest of the day writing, resting and contemplating what tonight's meeting will entail.
An hour before meeting with Milena, he will rise, clean himself, change clothes and equip all of his gear. He will then make his way to rendezvous with the monk.
Vyshael blushes at the comment... coughs slightly and recovers enough of himself to answer her question, "I will, indeed... Not going would probably eventually drive me mad as I asked myself what this was all about..."
Aye, fool, make yourself appear unstable. Surely, that's impressing her.
He shakes his head at himself, carefully out of her sight, before adding, "Despite the circumstances, it was a pleasure meeting you."
"Well, I might see you there then" with those words she starts walking down the streets towards her the bridge leading to Old Korvosa.
It is a long walk, and everywhere she sees signs of the night's struggle. Sometimes corpses had just been piled up at the side of a street to make room, and other time guards are busy heaving them on waggons to carry them to the graveyard.
Aside from them and priests of Pharasma she barely sees anyone in the streets. At least that allows her to walk at a fast pace, and not get slowed down by the masses. On the other hand, masses would have been normal, a sign that things aren't as bad as they seem.
'Maybe Old Korvosa got spared most of it. Maybe they don't care about who's king and queen and what they do.' she tells herself, but she doesn't really believe a word of it.
Finally, after what seemed like ages, she reaches her home, nothing more than a small, rundown house, and inside there wasn't more than 2 rooms. It had been the house of the local healer for the last 40 years or so, and 2 years ago, when she died and Vesera took over all of her duties, she also took the house as hers.
She is glad that it seems the way she left it, and hadn't been burned down or broken in, at least not that she could see. She smirked a bit, at least that was the upside of being able to do a form of magic that most people, even the scholars didn't fully understand. People are superstitius, and usually tend not to meddle with forces they don't comprehend. Also, her teacher had the reputation to place curses on people that crossed her.
Of course the downside was that she didn't have a large circle of friends either, for pretty much the same reasons.
She opens the door and immediately a large, furry shape comes running at her from a shadowy corner.
"Hey buddy. Yes, I missed you too." she says while she drops down on one knee to greet the dog, ruffling through his thick fur.
Rika is another reason people wouldn't dare breaking into her house, she figures. She knows he's mostly harmless, he'd never attack anyone without a good reason, but most people don't know him that well, and he does look quite scary. After all he's a mix of wolf and a large dog, bred by the orcs for war and hunting, or so she's been told.
Just as she's getting back onto her feet, she hears footsteps walking up to her door, no doubt people had seen her return. She wonders who'll need her assistance at first.
Vyshael follows Vesara into the street, but then heads off towards the East Shore and his rented apartment near the Thumanexus College . Wary of the cards and the fact that someone must have followed him, he doesn't allow himself to retreat into his own thoughts. Instead, he keeps scanning the area, subjecting himself to the aftermath of the riots in an attempt to keep himself safe.
I don't know why I'm rushing...I was supposed to meet Trin about the book last night before being locked up... and now I think there are more important things to think about than yet another treatise on physical enhancement magic....
He arrives at the tavern, not surprised to find it all but empty. This is as good a place to pass the time as any, he thinks as he finds a table near the fire.
Motioning toward the barkeep, he says: "Warm oatmeal and honey, if you would, and a cup of warm mead to wash it down with."
Seeing that the Varisian is lost in her own thoughts, Gethric turns and walks away alone. His path takes him away from the Bailer's Retreat and back towards his apartment. Although there is still a great deal of human detritus left to clear from the past evening's riot, Gethric doesn't take much notice of the movements of the Pharasmic priests.
Returning to his hovel in the West Docks for a moment, Gethric takes the time to check his other weaponry to ensure no other surprises await him before washing his face in a basin of cold water. As he wipes away the dried sweat from his face he catches a glimpse of his simple iron wedding ring in the mirror. Pausing a moment as memories wash over him and he becomes more evident of the hollow left in his heart Gethric sighs. I know not from where this card has come, but if it is a sign of the Harrow I would be a fool to not look into it.
He sets back out onto the streets cloak drawn close around himself and makes his way toward Lancet St, racking his brains to see if he recalls any gossip or news about the district. Gethric then seeks to innocently question shop owners and food vendors in the area to see if he can gather any further information about the house.
Diplomacy (Gather Information):
Knowledge (Local):
Chavakala looks at the card, shocked to see it caught in her scarf. The Unicorn. Her thoughts race back to her youth. Carefree days spent in the caravan and playing with Zalinsa. Learning Harrow with her aunt and Zalinsa in the back of the caravan. So many good memories. All brought to a terrible shocking halt by the memory of holding Zalinsa's body in her arms as she breathed her last. A husk with none of the life that the young Varisian once possessed. She startles back to the present.
Wasn't a halfling just there? Where has he gone? What happened to me?
The card beckons in her hand.
There it is again. The Unicorn. A card so familiar to Chavakala that it seems to be her own. How many times has it been in my readings.
She turns the card over.
Gaedren... she breathes before shutting her mouth and looking around to see if anyone overheard. If this isn't a sign from Desna herself, I don't know what is. she muses.
She makes her way back to the shrine of Desna at the Pantheon of Many, eager to see if the priest there knows the location of Lancet Street as she is still learning the details of the city.
A few hours later, collecting her things, she heads for Midland looking for the house. Nearly lost in her thoughts again, the sight of a familiar looking halfling startles her back to the message. Others like you will be there.
Could it be? Has he too been a victim of Lamm? she wonders. {i]Or could it be a trap?[/i] Reason wars with the desire to avenge Zalinsa and vengeance wins out. If he is another of Lamm's minions, he will die like Eugeni.
She steels herself and approaches the halfling, "Excuse me sir, you look terribly familiar. Have I seen you before recently?"
Eyeing the Varisian warily "Aye lass, we waited out this last night in the Bailer's Retreat whilst the good citizens of this town painted it a bloody shade of red."
Extending a hand in greeting "Gethric"
Caroline would annoy you on occasion during your creative hours, as she always does, though she also brought you dinner - a turnip and mushroom stew. As the day slowly creeps to an end, and you prepare to leave, she gives you a tight hug and a worried grimace. "You best be careful, Yen, y'ear? I don't wanna 'afta find a spot in the Grey to bury you."
Getting to Midland and Lancet Street is easy - almost too easy. The sensation of being guided never quite leaves your shoulder... When you approach the house, one that looks to belong to a fortuneteller, you find a human and a halfling are speaking to one another - a tense discussion from what you can gather...
You gather a multitude of information of Lancet Street, all which conforms to what you already know. The house in question belongs to a Varisian fortuneteller named Zellara - a fair lady from what you know, she's also renowned for her precise readings. While gathering the facts, you also come across a different tidbit of knowledge: Zellara supposedly lost her son to Gaedren...
After taking care of all the familiar residents of Old Korvosa - Old Lem, Grandmother Frida, Little Iz in particular grateful for your time and tender care - you head out, setting towards this Lancet Street. You aren't quite certain how you made it here without getting lost in the labyrinth of Midland. The alleged house looks to be that of a fortuneteller's - and nearby are a halfling and human speaking to one another. It sounds to be a tense discussion...
After your meal - a little soggy tonight; then again the barkeep was alone on his shift and the cook, little Ilena with those golden eyes absent - you once more navigate the sad streets of Korvosa. Finding your way to Lancet Street was hardly difficult - in the afterthought, it could almost have been considered too easy. The house mentioned on the card appears to be one belonging to a fortuneteller. Outside are a halfling and human, talking to one another. From what you can gather, their discussion is tense...
The location seems to be eerie - and eerier still is your simultaneous arrival in front of the house. Hanging over the door is a sign, spelling out 'Zellara's' - and almost as if on cue, the door creaks open. The interior is well-lit, and there is a warmth that rivals the sudden chill of the street. The sun has barely begun its descent into the horison. The streets are empty too - only you grace it with your presence...
Mulling over the information that he was able to find out, Gethric is partially lost in though as he approaches 'Zellara's'. Seems like the Harrower has been cut by Gaedren as have I. My feet are along this path, I may as well see the end. Startled to find that he and Chavakala aren't the only ones to be visiting the good lady, Gethric stops a moment to survey the others.
Two half-elves, a human and another of my kin... interesting. He then summons his courage and waving Chavakala to follow, walks toward the open portal into the house.
Gods, six of us. How many has Lamm harmed?" muses Chavakala as she follows Gethric toward the open door.
"I'm Chavakala by the way. It is good to meet you Gethric. Finding you here would suggest we may have more in common than a chance meeting at the Bailer's Retreat. But enough talk for now. Let us find this Zellara."
Yenrry arrives at the Wise Dragon an hour before as he and Milena had discussed. They nod and silently walk towards the meeting place. As they approach, Yenrry stops short. "Do you feel as if we're being watched or followed? Or is it just me? Either way, let us press on. But do be aware."
Walking to the front of the building he greets the two gathered with a small bow. "Mi'lady. Sir." Seeing the two others approach almost simultaneously, he repeats, "Mi'lady. Sir. It seems Lamm has made many...acquaintances...over the years."
As the door opens, he lets out a small chuckle. "Well, at least we know whoever has invited us here has a flair for the dramatic. Shall we?" He gestures towards the door and follows in after the women have entered.
During the day, while tending to her duties in the district, she did try make some inquiries about the address in question and its inhabitants. At one point she even send one of the local lads into the area, to watch the house for a bit. Later it dawned to her that if this was a trap, then sending a young boy there for Lamm to snatch wasn't a very smart idea, but she was glad he returned a few hours later unharmed.
Unfortunately she couldn't find out much, just that the place apperently belongs to a local fortune teller named Zellara. Her contacts in Midland were limited at best.
As she aproaches the house herself in the evening, Rika is at her side. She had decided to take the dog with her, even though she wasn't sure she could actually sic him on anybody - not that she ever wanted to, his apperance alone might discourage some people already, or so she hopes.
She slowly walks down the street casually, ready to dive into one of the sidestreets or run away if anything suspicious would happen, while other people seem to gather from different directions. One of them is Vyshael, the half-elf she met this morning.
Her left hand closes some more around the staff she was holding in her left hand, a sign of how nervous she herself is.
The staff itself was maybe a foot shorter than herself, and it could be used to knock someone over the head like a quarterstaff or a large crudgel, if she would be forced to defend herself, but it's main purpose are the dozen or so charms and occult items tied and attached to it's upper end.
She knows that being near this staff makes alot of people nervous, and one thing she remembered from her time with her family and the teachings she received there, then it was it's always good to keep an opponent unbalanced and nervous, have them guessing at what you do next. And till she knew what she is up against, that is exactly what she plans on doing.
At first she thought that two of the attending people were still children, and for a moment rememered how Lamm likes to use them. 'Maybe it is a trap?'
As she gets closer though she notices her mistake. Halflings, not children.
One of them is greeting her as she comes closer, immediately throwing Lamm's name around. Out here were everyone can hear it? Fool.
"Good evening." is all she says for now.
Vyshael approaches the home warily, his hand reaching back to his mother's sword on his back. People waiting, perhaps it is an ambush? He shakes his head slightly as he approaches, his mind pointing out that these strangers are not hidden... and look almost as apprehensive as he feels. He releases the hilt and steps forward, a nervous smile on his face, settling into something somewhat more calm at the Halfling's greeting.
"I assume that we've all been invited to the same party?", he sighs, stepping through the door.
Nodding a wary greeting at those who are also entering Gethric steps inside the house.
Sleight of Hand:
Those who look see the halfling fidgeting with what looks to be a harrow card, making it appear and disappear from one hand and then the other. Despite the movements of his hands being practiced the spectacle is not very fluent as it seems his mind is engaged elsewhere.
Eyeing her warily "Trust is earnt, and you don't have mine. All I'll offer is that I have no love for Gaedren."
Gethric's eyes are sad and you can sense some measure of compassion, but obviously he is not quick to open up himself.
"I tend to agree with the halfling. Maybe once we know more we can share stories"
As she start towards the door again, thumping the end of her staff on the ground with every other step, her familiar, a small bird flies out of the sky and lands on her shoulder.
She uses the same staff to push the door completely open and steps inside, wary for any surprises and looks around inside.
Vyshael nods his head in greeting at the friendly human and her introduction, "I am Vyshael Invisus, of -" He stops abruptly for a moment.
..the Academae.... Not anymore, fool. It's been six months, I cannot believe I am still doing that.
He covers his pause with a smile as best he can, "well, nowhere in particular, I suppose.... and that is thanks to Lamm. So yes, I am here to seek vengeance."
When you enter, you come to a home that does not reflect the mood of Korvosa. The cozy chamber within this small home is filled with a fragrant haze of flowers and strong spice. The haze comes from several sticks of incense smouldering in wall-mounted burners that look like butterfly-winged elves. The smoke itself seems to soften edges and gives the room a dream-like feel. The walls are draped with brocaded tapestries, one showing a black-skulled beast juggling men’s hearts, another showing a pair of angels dancing atop a snow-blasted mountain. A third tapestry on the far wall depicts a tall hooded figure shrouded in mist, a flaming sword held in a skeletal hand. Several brightly-colored rugs cover the floor, but the room’s only furnishings are a wooden table covered by a bright red throwcloth and several elegant tall-backed chairs. A basket covered by blue cloth sits under the table. There is a card with writing on the table.
Gethric reads the card on the table before handing it to the next closest for their inspection. Casting aside the blue cloth from the basket, he retrieves a loaf of bread. Breaking off a sizable chuck with his hands he moves to a chair, sitting and starting to eat. I find it somewhat queer that the lady of the house chose the time of our meeting, and yet is not here to greet us.
He presses his back against the chair, reassured by the feel of the dagger concealed there.
Vyshael reads the card and his eyes narrow, "I like this less and less -- in fact, it puts me in the mind of what you were suggesting earlier...". He stops himself from speaking Vesara's name just in time, If she did not wish to introduce herself, I shall not give away her name freely...
He notes the halfling hop into a chair and into the bread, I always thought that notion of halfling appetites was a silly stereotype, but perhaps there is some truth to it.
He says apologetically, "I do not mean to sound paranoid, but I am not quite as trusting as our small friend here. Divination is not my strong suit, so I wonder if anyone could possibly Detect Poison on these offered goods?"
I also wonder if I would trust their response, but one thing at a time...
Vesera frowns as well after she reads the note "Yes, this does seem more and more like a trap. She calls us here, but then has to step out, but still has time to prepare food and write a note?"
She gestures again and speaks some strange arcane words "No, I'm afraid I did not prepare for detecting poison this morning. However the safest course of action would be not to eat it. However I will take a look at the food anyway, since it might give us some information about the intention of our absent host."
Instead she had just cast Detect Magic again, and is using it to scan the room. She does start with the food, even though she doesn't expect it to radiate magic, even if it was poisoned. She then slowly examines the rest of the room including the other people present.
Afterwards, she walks over to the table, where she pulls a rag from her pouch, which she uses to carefully pick up a piece of the bread, turning it so she can watch it from all sides. She also smells at it, before repeating the same procedure on the drink.
Chavakala looks to Milena, "My sympathies. For me, it was my sister. Not murdered directly, but addicted to shiver that he was selling through a Sczarni. I took care of the Sczarni. I want Lamm."
After reading the note and hearing the others, "I too feared a trap coming here today, but if Lamm wanted to finish us, why draw us together? We would be easier targets as individuals if he already knows who we are. I suspect there is a more mundane explanation for our host's absence."
Yenrry continues chuckling as he walks into the room and sees its decorations. "The flair continues. Who is our host? I can't wait to meet him. Or her. Or it."
When Milena offers her story, Yenrry's chuckles stop. His eyes grow dark as Chavakala tells of her sister. Another youth. Another addict. How many are there? He doesn't offer his story of suffering at the hands of Lamm.
Seeing Gethric eagerly tear into the bread, Yenrry cocks his head and asks, "So if we had brought food with us, you would trust us?" He smiles, trying to indicate that he is jesting with the serious halfling.
"I too feared a trap coming here today, but if Lamm wanted to finish us, why draw us together? We would be easier targets as individuals if he already knows who we are. I suspect there is a more mundane explanation for our host's absence."
Vyshael shrugs, "I know not. Perhaps he is tying up loose ends... in fact, perhaps he does this sort of thing often. Enough people go missing in this town it would be hard to argue that he hasn't... What I do know is that I'm not terribly inclined to trust just yet...."
He sighs, feeling the battle between the drives for vengeance and self-preservation waging within him, "However, I came here for a reason - we all did, I assume - and that is to hear what our host has to say.... But it strikes me as more than odd as..."Keep her name to yourself.."... was mentionned, that we were invited here at a specific time of our host's choosing, and he or she had the time to lay out food and write a note, but could not be here?"
"I see Gaedren has left us all overly cautious." The lady who enters is fair, her eyes sharp. She has a basket in her hands. "I am the one who asked you all to come. My name is Zellara. Please, sit. I am not your enemy, though I cannot fault your caution."
She smiles warmly, though there is a sadness in her eyes. Sadness mixed with determination. Zellara treads past the table, into the adjacent room, and she returns empty-handed. "I apologise for my...unconventional means of contacting you. I have great reason to remain hidden. A terrible man would see great harm done to me if he knew I was reaching for help. A man you all know. Gaedren Lamm."
She sits down behind the table as you do, pulling out a deck of cards from her pocket. As she glances at you all, she begins to shuffle the deck - the cards float and dance between her fingers as she does. "Gaedren Lamm is a man whose cruelty and capacity to destroy lives is only matched by his ability to avoid reprisal. A year ago, his thieves stole my Harrow deck - this Harrow deck," she adds, lifting her hands for you to see it properly, "It is an heirloom, and my sole means of support. My son, Ezan, tracked them down and retrieved it for me. Gaedren murdered him for that."
Her voice grows sombre. "I went to the guard. They turned me away. I began asking around. I paid bribes. I consulted my Harrow deck. I was eventually rewarded. I know where Gaedren currently dwells: an old, abandoned fishery north of here at Westpier 17. He trains his children there to be pickpockets, and counts his stolen treasures."
"I asked you here because I need your help. I cannot face Gaedren on my own. If I were to go to the guard, they would never act in time - not with last night's riot on their hands. And even if they did manage to arrest him... what guarantee do we have that he would be punished? He has evaded the law for decades, why would it catch up to him now?"
"The streets have told me of your suffering. Gaedren is no friend of mine, and he is no friend of yours. He has wronged us all. It is time for him to pay."
In spite of his skeptical mindset, Vyshael finds himself nodding at his hostess' tale.
He surprises himself by vocalizing his thoughts, "I concur with your assessment of the guard and the need to punish Lamm... though the skeptical part of my mind --" And I'm not sure there is a non-skeptical part.. "--wonders how it is you came to find each of us? Surely the details of our own stories, ones some of us learned of only recently and at great expense, are not so easily found?"
Had I known it so easy, I would have just come and asked the fortune-teller who ruined me... Probably faster, cheaper and far less frustratng...
Vyshael continues speaking before she can answer, his mouth trying to keep up with his mind, "And, I must admit that part of me is asking why us -- and do not mistake the question as a lack of interest or desire -- but with so many lives scarred or ended, it makes me wonder why we, specifically, were selected?"
"I listened to the music of Korvosa's streets." She looks at you with a smile. "Your songs reached my ears. I consulted my deck, and the cards confirmed."
You do not spot anything magical in the home - though you do feel a bit dizzy...
You cannot find any signs of poison in the bread or drink.
She doesn't seem to be hiding anything, nor does she appear to bear any ill will. You do not think she is lying, nor do you think she plans to betray you.
The young witch leans on her staff as the fortune-teller explains why and how she found them and summoned them here. But not only her, she also keeps an eye on the other 5 people in the room, still not knowing who of them she could trust.
"That still does not explain how you found us? I for my part was spending the night in a place that I usually never do, far away from my home. And it was locked up tight, how did you get in?"
She straightens herself, and beside her Rika must have interpreted that as a sign of danger, since he immediately begins growling. "Down, boy, it's alright" stroking him through the hair, and he falls silent again.
"So far you haven't given us much of a reason to trust you. Let's assume you truely picked us on purpose, and not simple chance, then you should know who I am."
She turns to Vesera with a sigh and a softer smile. "As I said, I heard the music of Korvosa, and I consulted my cards. The cards do not lie. They say more to me than they do to most - that much pride I have in my Harrowing. I know what Gaedren has done to you. To you all."
Vesera frowns at the patronizing tone in her voice "Yes, so you keep saying, that you know what he has done to us. That we've show up here tells me as well that he's done something to all of us. I could keep repeating that I know what you had for breakfast last week, and yet it would not make it true. You want to convince me that this truely is no trap, tell me what my name is, and I my start believing your words."
"Vesera Arkona." She has half an apologetic look on her face, the other part sad and hopeless. She turns to the rest of you, looking at you all in turn. "Vyshael Invisus. Milena Teg. Gethric Orted. Yenrry Clockweaver. Chavakala. I know your names. I know what Gaedren has done to you. That is all the songs would tell me, and all I inquired of my deck."
Vesera does look genuinely surprised that the woman actually knows her name. Maybe it was true what she had said, after all.
She follows her glance over the assembled group, making sure to remember each of their names.
"I apologise if any of you intended to keep your identities hidden. Names, however, are a stepping stone. Trust must be earned, I agree," she nods in Gethric's direction, "But I bear you no ill will. I will not reveal more. Trust me in this, only this, nothing more unless you wish. I only want to see Gaedren brought to justice. Tell me, am I wrong in thinking you desire this as well?"
"Well, it can be little surprise that you know my name," Yenrry says, smiling and bowing deeply. "And you are correct in your assessment - I, for my part, wish to see Lamm face justice. True justice." His hand rests obviously on the hilt of his rapier.
"Agreed. I haven't juggled a day in my life. What is the meaning of my card?"
She nods and glances at you both. "Milena, the Forge represents strength through diversity. To endure the trials of life, you must be strong, not just of mind, but of body too. You represent such strength. That is why the card chose you."
"Yenrry, the Juggler represents the delicate rhythm of fate. It is no easy task to balance every act and actor, to balance every word and rhyme to its rhythm. You, however, possess this ability. That is why the card chose you."
"In that case, I'm curious to hear what "The Wanderer" might possibly mean"
She still regards Zellara with obvious doubt.
You cannot find any tell-tale signs of dishonesty or betrayal in her manner of speaking or acting, nor does it feel like she is of malevolent intent.
"Vesera. Vyshael," she adds, glancing at the half-elf with a soft smile, "The Wanderer represents those who collect - and their collection consists of appreciation for what others have discarded as worthless. It represents compassion, empathy and appreciation. You possess these qualities, both of you. That is why the card chose you."
Vyshael sits quietly while Zellara speaks to the others, observing her reaction to the questions... and the reactions of the others.
Finally, when called out by having his card defined, Vyshael leans in to join the conversation, "So then, are we the collector or the things being collected?"
He turns to the others with a smile, "And well met, Milena, Gethric, Yenrry, Chavakala.", nodding to each in turn.
Gethric continues to chew on the bread unabated despite the talk of poison. Responding to Yenrry's 'jest' he merely levels a flat gaze at him a few seconds before moving his eyes elsewhere.
Listening to Zellara's monologue, he is reminded of Chelish justice Money and influence is all that seems to count in most cities
He nods a competent greeting at all those who offer one to him as his name is revealed by Zellara.
Speaking up to Zellara "My name is freely given, though I appreciate your discretion on what umbrage I hold with Gaedren. You have given me a gift, his location." with a momentary flourish he produces a dagger in his right hand "It is only fair that I offer a gift to Lamm in return. I commit to the gambit." before another flourish causes the dagger to disappear once more.