Curse of the Crimson Throne

[Grimtina]

Each of you have been getting a note a few days ago, scribbled on the back of a Harrow card. It appeared somewhere in your equipment, or the bed at morning, or next to your breakfast, without any indication as to how it got there. Everyone please pick a harrow card for themselves. The AP wants the GM to chose based on alignment and charsma score but with so many PCs it's not quite workable, plus in the pastz it worked better if everyone picks a theme for themselves. Cards may be double all will be interpreted slighly different later.

I know what Gaedren has done to you. He has wronged me as well. I know where he dwells, yet cannot strike at him. Come to my home at 3 Lancet Street (http://www.krath.org/arania/Curse%20of%20the%20Crimson%20Throne/GOL_cartes_Les_rues_de_Korvosa_2_1.jpg) at sunset in a week from now. Others like you will be there. Gaedren must face his fate, and justice must be done.

So now you are back in Korvosa, nearing the little house near the waterside, and indeed, there are many of you...

[Survy]

Thomson's feet padded softly on the cobblestone as he neared the home of the mysterious benefactor. The sound of the wash of water against the nearby port did little to calm him, and neither did the others who seemed to have arrived, for what he guessed was the same reason as he. He had not been in this city since his childhood, and the memories of that time were hardly pleasant. Just the sights and smells of this city set him on edge.

His hooded cloak shrouded most of his features, hiding burnt flesh from a casual glance. He did not feel shame for his injuries, but the shocked cries of children the first time he left the monastery and entered a town had made it clear the effect his appearance could cause in some. And besides, harsh light often pained his skin. The cloak was for the best.

Thomson stops as he reaches the house, and rests against a nearby wall, calming himself with breathing exercises. He plays the harrow card he had received through his fingers as he lightly meditates, the image of The Forge still burned into his mind, the message written upon it having shocked him beyond measure when he had discovered it. Attempting to breathe evenly, he takes in the others as best he can, still unsure of his situation.

[AMFV]

Adrian walked through Korvosa's familiar streets. His hands moved absently to his pockets. A bit of string here, a ring, some wax, and then there was the harrow card. That was an unusual discovery, and certainly unsettling, he was being watched. And that was bad, probably. He let his mind absently wander as his body did. Of course he wasn't going to the meeting, that was exactly what they expected, exactly what they wanted, and he wasn't going to play any of their games. After all he wasn't one for games, or was he? This was terribly hard to keep track of. Who were they, after all, what did they want? But he did like an occasional game of squash or cards. Even with Harrow cards.

"I'm not going," He said out loud to nobody in particular, or perhaps that rather tall fellow with the covered face. That was interesting, very interesting. Adrian decided he'd stay here, wherever here was. He sat there for a few seconds as passerby moved around the street before suddenly jerking upright. He dashed over to the side of the street, brow furrowed in deep thought. Counting each building carefully.

"Wait, just a second..." He trailed off in his conversation with himself, or maybe with somebody else it was so hard to tell , but nobody answered him, so he continued right on, "This is odd, I could have sworn I wasn't coming." His eyes narrowed for a second, but he was here, and now there was very little to do but wait, and he hated waiting. He glanced over at the tall figure for a second, trying to glean if he knew anything or had any other reaction than surprise at the sudden burst of motion.

[Hazuki]

Blackeye kept her head ducked low beside the wall, her tread gentle and her eyes peeled for anything that might have changed in the walls of her own home. Every path was a vein in Korvosa, and she'd ran red through every one of them; a habit born of necessity, at least as she learned how to survive again. Learn the steps, know the corners, spot what's changed, find the infection in her city's vitae. She wouldn't be caught off-guard, that way. Couldn't let herself forget that every moment, somebody's out to get somebody.

Evidently, she still needed to improve her game, as she slipped the Harrow Card free from her pocket, just about to turn the corner to Lancet Street and meet the person who'd offered her a tantalizing hint of the revenge that boiled in her blood. There was something almost satisfying about the surge of emotion the stranger's hint brought her. There always had been, to feel the divine wrath that writhed inside, just waiting to be spent, building and building for the inevitable climax, when she'd unleash everything, every ounce of emotion, every iota of incandescent rage, and feel the sweet catharsis wash over her.

The lithe woman licked her lips and turned the corner, to see the horde of people gathered outside of her destination. She hesitated for a moment, caught off-guard again, but most of these people were strangers; and nobody hired foreign mercenaries to deliver a beatdown, no matter how much of a nuisance they were. And she was damned sure she'd never seen any of them before. So maybe they were like her, and there was only one way to find out.

Drawing her cloak a little tighter around herself, her staff clicking softly against the ground as she approached the gathered group. She held her harrow card between two fingers, flashing it to whoever looked her way, hoping for some nod of recognition. Some confirmation that they were kin, at least for these moments.

[Phasm]

A tall, slender woman clad in scale mail limps down the street with a faint clinking sound. There are no bandages or splint on her legs or feet. Rather it looks as if the left foot is deformed, twisting inward in an unnatural way. Her pale blonde hair is pinned up in a bun, showing ears that are too pointed for a human but too short for an elf. As she draws closer, the classical beauty of her delicate features becomes clear. Kalendra smiles as Blackeye shows her the Harrow card. "Ah, it looks as if the same person invited us here." She takes another card out of her belt pouch and displays it; the Unicorn. "Do you know who may have left this in my healer's kit? I find myself baffled."

[Hazuki]

Blackeye nods curtly at Kalendra as she approaches her and flashes her own Harrow card. "Either a very forgetful thief, or whoever is waiting inside." She drawls, then jabs a gloved thumb in the direction of the house they're all gathered outside of, her entirely black eyes flickering over the form of the woman before her before silently approving of her current trustworthiness. "Or with my luck, another red herring."

[AMFV]

"Don't you mean an unthief?" Adrian suddenly interjects, jumping up from his rather ill-suited position of rest, "A thief takes things, we've had things left, that's an unthief, or maybe an anti-thief, or even a feiht..." He seems to consider the matter gravely for a second, after all what something is very important, or what something isn't. His brow furrows for a second at the thought. Or maybe somethings are, what they aren't. Or aren't what they are... "In any case, whatever our 'friend' is or is not, we're here now, and that means that we've done exactly as they wanted, puppets on strings, marionettes, dancing and dancing and dancing," He freezes in place as somebody walks by, perfectly still for just an instant, then he moves up to the door and knocks sharply, "You've pulled our strings and we've come, now come out and speak to us, puppet-master His voice raises in pitch and volume for a second, hopefully not attracting too much attention, "We've come, we've brought the cards, isn't it time for a game?"

[Wymmerdann]

Sarai Wyxward

The most sensible answer to the riddle was still "trap," but that didn't quite fit. If someone could leave unnoticed a message scribbled on the back of The Wanderer, left in Sarai's spellbook like a bookmark, then that someone could have certainly done her great harm if they wished it.

But then, were she Gaedran, this is precisely the kind of message she would have sent to lure in her prey. Collect your enemies in one place, and bring overwhelming force to bear. It was strategically sound.

And then there was the matter of justice. Of what Gaedran deserved, and what the Dawnflower would expect of her. Prevarication was unacceptable.

Sarai steeled herself, forcing her errant thoughts into line. Now was the time for action.

Seamlessly, she detached herself from the alley wall and sauntered into the street. She joined the group unhurriedly, taking no great care to hide the infernal cast to her features or to betray her apprehension. Many of them were holding out, and apparently discussing, Harrow Cards similar to her own. A shared bond was a natural conversational topic, especially to ease tension. She held her own card up as she approached and muttered a halfhearted welcome of "Well met, am I to take it that none of you have any greater insight into the identity of our host than I?"

...

In the face of the thin human's blustering, Sarai remains quiet. She has no answers, and shares his confusion, but does not trust his apparent whimsy.

[Grimtina]

Upon the knock, the door opens slightly. Seems it was not only not locked, but also not closed properly.

[AMFV]

Adrian Rathmore

Adrian, immediately steps through as the door swings open. Not waiting for any response from his comrades or from those inside.

[Phasm]

Kalendra frowns and tucks the card back in her pouch. "An unlocked door, in this part of town? I fear something may be amiss." She limps after Adrian, one hand on her weapon. The oracle may be lame, but many a would-be mugger has discovered that she can still fight.

[Hazuki]

Blackeye largely ignores the ramblings of the man with the camp voice, easily able to pick out flaws in his logic, but smart enough to know not to bother with somebody who's quite evidently madder than a barbarian losing at chess. She's about to suggest a cautious method of approaching when the dandy waltzes in, and she just stares after him for a moment, waiting for a scream or a call inside or something else that would give her a hint of whatever lurks inside.

[Grimtina]

The place is empty.

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. A simple note is on the table, weighed down with a stone paperweight.

[AMFV]

Adrian Rathmore

Adrian darts easily into the room, allowing his mind to be almost completely empty as his eyes move over the room. Glancing briefly at the note in the center of the room. However he moves over to the tapestries instead of to the note, carefully examining them. After all, the note was obvious, and the obvious answer seemed to be the one that was the least interesting, the other people here would certainly notice that. Which meant that he was free to focus on the more interesting things in the room. He glanced around the room, briefly before finally focusing and expending his focus, trying to feel the presence of any magical or psionic energy in the room.

[Grimtina]

There is a lot of magical energy about, nothing psionic.


Will save please

[AMFV]

Adrian Rathmore

Adrian smiles, very briefly as he looks around at the magical energies filling the room.


I'm not sure if I can determine between Magical and Psionic stuff, the default for Dreamscarred Press is that psionics and magic are totally transparent.

Will Save

[roll0]

As a note that is the total roll, including all modifiers.

[Grimtina]

I usually have psionics "feel" slightly different when detected

The wallhangings are of the best quality, and seem to have been made only recently as the colors are all fresh and vibrant. The magic seems to be everywhere in the room, probably adding to the peaceful feelings in here.

[Phasm]

Well, nothing seems to have happened to the fidgety man, so Kalendra cautiously limps toward the table. Nothing appears amiss; in fact it all seems rather pleasant. The oracle picks up the note to read it.

[Grimtina]

"Thank you for coming. I had to step out for a bit, but shall return shortly. Please, have a seat while you wait. The basket under the table contains bread and drink for you."

[Phasm]

Kalendra reads the note aloud, raising a blonde eyebrow. "Well. I do believe I shall abstain for now."

[Wymmerdann]

Sarai entered the room tentatively, keeping her back to one of the room's walls. She too senses the magic within, and takes the time to harness a minor cantrip for a better understanding of its source. The room seems inviting, but that didn't clarify whether or not it were a trap. Even so, with each passing moment, the ideal time to spring such an ambush seemed to be passing. She moved to the curtains, examining their iconography and trying to place it within her accumulated lore of the mysterious



"Caution does seem warranted, as our host has done little enough to warrant trust, from me at least." She replies to the armoured half-elf. "I am Sarai Wyxward, journeyman conjurer, I like this not this mystery not at all," she introduces herself.

Uses the cantrip "detect magic", with a particular focus on the food and curtains.
Knowledge checks on the symbols on the curtains and around the room.
Religion: [roll0]
Arcana: [roll1]

[Grimtina]

Both radiate magic, and the tapestries all show images from Harrow cards.

[AMFV]

Adrian Rathmore

Adrian quickly loses interest in the tapestries. His eyes flitting around the room, still not quite choosing to focus on the note. "So we're all here," he muses for a second, glancing back at the door to ensure that it's still accessible, "And this is clearly some sort of game, or maybe, a trap, but are we the rat or the cheese." Both are bad of course, but for very different reasons.

Continuing to focus on the Magical Auras, for as long as possible, so I should be starting to get a feel for the number of spells present and their relative strength. And let me know if this proceeds into the third round so I can make the necessary checks.

[Phasm]

Kalendra leans against one of the walls to take the weight off her bad foot; it would be better for her foot to sit, but perhaps worse for her overall health if there's an ambush in the offing. "I am Kalendra, a healer with the Temple of Sarenrae." She smiles at Sarai. "It is a pleasure to meet you, although the circumstances could be better."

[Grimtina]

Just then, footsteps outside the small house near the door, and it opens silently. An attractive middle-aged Varisian woman with long dark hair enters, produces her Harrow deck from a pocket and idly shuffles the cards. Her skill with the deck is obvious - the cards seem to float and dance over her hands and the table. With a nod of her head, she indicates for you to sit at her table.

“Thank you for coming, my friends, and for putting up with my unconventional method of contacting you. I have reason to remain hidden, you see—a terrible man would see great harm done 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. I speak, of course, of Gaedren Lamm, a man whose cruelty and capacity to destroy the lives of those he touches are matched only by his gift for avoiding reprisal. You see, a year ago, his 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 Gaedren Lamm, and in reward for finding them, Gaedren 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 Gaedren 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. “And now, I need your help. I cannot hope to face this man on my own, and the Guard moves so slowly that if I were to go to them, Gaedren would certainly know of their coming well in advance. Even if they did arrest him—what guarantee would I have he would be punished? This criminal has evaded the law for decades. But you know of these frustrations as well, for word on the street has it that Gaedren has wronged each of you, too. So there we are. It is time for him to pay.”

She says this with such a force, there can be little doubt about her honesty. She, too, radiates magic. Third round

[Phasm]

Word on the street? Kalendra can't help but wince slightly at that; word on the street of how, exactly, Gaedren Lamm wronged her is hardly flattering to the young half-elf. She might be respectable now, but it's not so long ago that she was one of Lamm's best customers for shiver. "I must ask you to remain discreet about my past with Lamm. While it is not difficult to discover for those with contacts in certain places, it is nevertheless something I would prefer to remain in the past, madame...?" Her voice trails off, 'asking' for a name.

[Grimtina]

"I am called Zellara," she smiles widely. "And no worries, I will not talk to anyone else about any of you."

[Hazuki]

"This wall sure is something." Blackeye comments, given she has no idea of what's happening inside. "Bricks...mortar...it has everything!"

[Grimtina]

"I had been hoping for a few more people." Zellare muses. "Let me see if everyone has come inside." She moves back to the door in a long practiced grace, standing in the doorframe. Her eyes move around and find Blackeye. "Don't you want to come inside, dear? You'll miss all the fun."