Caesar's CotCT: Edge of Anarchy

[caesar193]

I know what Gaedren has done to you... it began. You had found the harrow card in a familiar place. Stuck, drenched, in a tankard of ale you had been nursing. Marking a place in the midst of a favored book. Resting, eager to be found, on top of the contents of your bag. All the same, you had found the harrow card, and flipped it to its back. Scrawled in an uneven and unfamiliar hand was a message, but your eyes all to quickly found a familiar name... Gaedren, Gaedren Lamm, a man you remembered well. After what he'd done to you...

The message was simple, a mere promise of things to come. I know what Gaedren has done to you, it began. I know where he dwells, yet cannot strike at him. Come to my home at 3 Lancet Street at sunset. Others like you will be there. Gaedren must face his fate, and justice must be done.

The sun was about to set, but all ready the streets of Korvosa had long shadows. Others, you could see, were on the streets, five of you in total. The door to 3 Lancet Street stood, alone and well lit in the light of a nearby street lamp.

You recall a conversation earlier, when you asked around about this address. You were curious about the note, you see, and wanted to know something about the address. You learned that this is the home and fortune-telling shop of a Varisian woman named Zellara.

Each of the harrow cards you got with the message is different. Celinda got The Publican, Spider got The Big Sky, Flynn got The Unicorn, Radigan got The Locksmith, and Sori got The Keep.

[Miry]

Knowledge Local untrained: [roll0] (max 10)

After a few days in Korvosa, Sori didnt find much about the kidnapping of Hedan, the apprentice monk she is looking for. The only lead she learned was a name: Gaedren Lamm, but every one seem to affraid to tell her anything. Even the authority proved useless for now.

So it was a surprise for her to find an harrow card in her pouch with a message about this man. The half-orc couldn't let this opportunity pass, even if it looked suspicious. She was not the type to look away because things could turn wrong. So she ask around where this adresse was, and went on her way to be there at sunset, as indicated.

She find the adress, and four other people looking at the same door, who got there before or shortly after her. Trying to take her most calm and even voice, she ask, trying her best (and failing) to sound friendly:

"Wich one of you sent the card?"

She kept a stern face, but tried not to look hostile.

Sori is tall and muscular. Her green skin in mark with ritual tatoo and scaring. A pony tail of long hair fall on her back, while her head is half shaved. She always wear simple cloth, and she carry her only weapon, a curved blade, on her back.

[pfm1995]

Stumbling back into his hovel after another long day of begging and petty thievery, Radigan knew immediately that something was wrong. His subjects were gone, fled to their burrows and nests, and on the table he could see the faintest outline of something oblong and square. Frowning, he lit one of his few candles to take a closer look.

The Locksmith, hm? And on the back... His complexion darkened in the flickering candlelight. Gaedren was a name he hadn't heard in a long time; a name he'd hoped he'd left behind. His scars itched. The vile bastard deserved any and every misfortune to come to him, but who in the Grey Master's missing tongue was coming into his home, promising him things like this. If this was a joke, someone's idea of having a little fun, there'd be blood on the streets by sunup. He turned, snarling, and stalked back outside, his head filled with unwelcome memories.

Behind him, a tendril of shadow reared and snuffed the candle out.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The others probably didn't even notice Radigan at first - just another beggar, hiding in the alley's shadow to escape his fellows. He took his time watching, studying, but spoke and stood up when the well-balanced one asked her question. "Ain't none of us done sent the Harrow- that there's the home of the sczarni witch, Zellara."

[roll0]

Radigan is small-bodied to an unhealthy degree, with not an ounce of fat on him. His dark hair is roughshod, like he cut it himself without a mirror, and he's tanned with layers of accumulated grime. The sleeves of his leather jacket are pinned behind his back; where arms should be there's nothing below the shoulder. How, exactly, someone without arms pinned the sleeves back is left to your imagination.

https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/6f/16/16/6f1616e16545919756a6a54acdc1e0c7--deviantart-characters-character-ideas.jpg

[stack]

[roll0] Korvosa. Haven't been here in years. Doesn't change much. Not here a week and I get this card. Not the first time I've seen it lately either. The Big Sky. Turns up a lot for me. Every harrowing lately. Guess its a sign....Zellara's place. Haven't seen it since I tried to lift that necklace. Wasn't long after that things fell apart. Lamm never liked failure much.

.....

An imposing half orc enters the room, lightly armored and heavily scarred, with assorted tattoos filling the remaining space. Skin like old leather, eyes red. He grabs a chair and sits heavily, then leans back, taking in the others. "Name's Wanderer. Around here I guess its Spider. Either way. I am guessing this little party has to do with my old 'mentor' Gaedren Lamm, yeah? Strange coincidence. I just came back in to town to find him. He has a date with the river."

[caesar193]

The room is empty when the group enters, naught but a multitude of flickering candles. Really, its a cozy room, a small table in the middle with six chairs around it. One clearly is that of a fortune tellers, a place set in readiness for the reading of the Harrow. A haze, smelling of flowers and spice, fills the room, no doubt from the sticks of smouldering in wall-mounted burners. The walls are adorned with tapestries, each depicting various images- one, a black-skulled beast juggling men's hearts, another, a pair of angels dancing at a mountaintop, a third, a tall, hooded figure shrouded in mist and wielding a flaming sword in skeletal hand.

The table that Wanderer sits at has a note on it, this time on a regular slip of paper.

Thank you for coming, the note begins, 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.

Indeed, it does. Anyone that were to peek under the table finds bread, a few glasses, and a bottle of wine.

I'll move things along once I know everyone's here, even if just a "My character enters the room and does nothing" post, or if a day or so goes by IRL. But I'd like to know that everyone who signed on to play is here to play before we get into any action.

[Miry]

Sori walk in and look around. She stays up, trying to figure out what kind of person live here.



Perception check if needed: [roll0]

[pfm1995]

"Lamm's too slick a bastard to drown - been tried. I'should know; me own peepers saw it. Wasn't much of the cross-cove drownin' him left, time that croc was done. Name's Radigan."

Not wanting to show his hand to these strangers quite yet, after stepping inside Radigan stood off in the corner admiring the art.

[ChrisAsmadi]

Flynn Baxter (https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1sU302Pb_pYeJ224p2g-gGNwIVq2b5BHCep5VvZEQfQ0/edit?usp=sharing)

On his second night back in town, Flynn found the mysterious harrow card propped up against the crude tripwire - not that he expected anyone to get injured by it, but he figured it'd cause some noise - he'd set just inside the dank loft he'd gone to ground in. With a wry grin and a shake of his head, he read the message. He'd known Gaedren had enemies - everyone knew it, it was why he was so ruthless about failure - but he hadn't exactly known where to find them, and he definitely hadn't expected they'd know about him. Was he being watched?

-

Creeping in the shadows of Lancet Street - Flynn, a practised spotter on the streets, marked the others approaching, likely for similar reasons. That meant that whoever was going against Gaedren, they had the resources to track down more than just him.

With a shrug, the young halfling chose not to dwell on what was probably just good luck, and stepped out of the shadows and towards the building, nodding and grinning at the others as they approached.

-

When they were gathered in the room with the candles, he quipped, "Looks like whoever it was got us here has dredged up some proper dregs of society, aye?"

Sorry about the late reply, was sick Monday.
Knowledge (Local), Untrained: [roll0]

[stack]

Spider pulls the food out from under the table and spreads it out, giving the bread a sniff before shrugging and tearing off a chunk and eating it. He opens a bottle. "Anyone else care for a drink?"

[Morcleon]

Celina Mendar

"Hm... haven't seen that name in a while." Celina smirked darkly as she flipped The Publican around in her fingers. "Should be interesting."

Walking over as the sun began its descent, she found the address without much trouble. Casually strolling over, she opened the door and stepped in, smiling softly. She noted the various people already there and giggled. "Well, this certainly seems like quite the party. And yes, I would love a drink, if it wouldn't be too much trouble."

Knowledge (local): [roll0]

Whoops. Completely missed the IC thread notification. :smalltongue: