Khadmeade had been stomping the streets of Korvosa all morning and was no further to finding this "Gaedren Lamm" whom was his prime suspect for having taken Roin. The man was slippery at covering his tracks, if he even existed in the first place. It was high time for a lunch-time ale and so the dwarf called at one of the better taverns that he knew. As he wwas raising his first tankard, Khadmeade noticed a card stuck to the bottom. A card from a Harrow deck, that the Varisian women use to tell fortunes and others use for gambling. This one was of the Winged Serpent. Assuming at first that it was probably left by some late night gambler, Khadmeade then noticed that the card bore writing on the reverse.
“I know what Gaedran 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 at sunset. Others like you will be there. Gaedren must meet his fate, and justice must be done.”
Bael
Despite all that had happened, there was still duty. Theresa would probably not thank him if Bael lost his job at the Acadamae because he was spending every other waking moment hunting her killer. And duty meant occupying the mind on other things for a while. But none of this helped, especially when duty ended.
Bael enters the armoury, the other tiefling pay him little attention, the next guard shift coming in to take over for the late afternoon spot. He swaps his guard uniform for his civilian clothes and changes official weaponry for personal gear. As he does so, something flutters out of his belongings. A Harrow card, of the kind Varisian women use to tell fortunes.
This one represents the Locksmith. Picking it up, Bael notices writing on the reverse.
“I know what Gaedran 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 at sunset. Others like you will be there. Gaedren must meet his fate, and justice must be done.”
Maya
To be Shoanti in Korvosa is to be treated with equal parts scorn, fear and curiosity. Such things have become every day to Maya, but it still makes daily life difficult when everyone else assumes that you are going to kill them and loot their corpse. The fear part has helped somewhat in tracking down a name for the kidnapper - Gaedren Lamm - but not his whereabouts. Either the people fear him more than an angry Shoanti, or he is very good at covering his tracks. Maya pauses, watching the midday sun sparkle on the Jaggare River as she idly fingers the medicine bundles that she carries. Here strange powers do not seem to need them, but a cultural attachment means that she carries a pouch of strange items.
It feels different. Checking the pouch, Maya discovers a card inside - a Harrow card of the kind used by Varisian women to tell fortunes. This one bears the image of The Twin on the front, and on the reverse, a message.
“I know what Gaedran 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 at sunset. Others like you will be there. Gaedren must meet his fate, and justice must be done.”
Tristan
Tristan sits in his student room in the Acadamae, looking out over the rooves and Shingles of Korvosa. On the desk in front of him, his spellbook lies open and unread. His thoughts keep coming back to his sister, and the man he suspects of murdering her for a simple ring. A man that Tristan's magic is no use in finding. The pages of the spellbook contain eldritch secrets to control the powers of the universe, but they can't give him Gaedren Lamm's location.
Sighing, Tristan turns the page, and finds tucked inside the book a Harrow card, of the kind used by Varisian fortune tellers. This one bears an expertly painted image of the Foreign Trader. On the reverse is written a message.
“I know what Gaedran 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 at sunset. Others like you will be there. Gaedren must meet his fate, and justice must be done.”
Attached map of Korvosa:
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Khadmeade's jaw hangs open for a moment. He then forcefully slams the mug down on the table. "Well, it's about damned time someone knew somethin'!"
A moment of dawning comprehension spreads across his face as he realizes all eyes in the tavern are now upon him. Thinking quickly he adds, "...about makin' a good ale. I was gettin' a wee bit tired of this watered down stuff ye humans call a beverage. It's high time someone demonstrated some smarts aboot brewin'. My compliments to ye and yer brewmaster!" he says to the barkeeper. He then quickly pays his tab, discreetly pockets the card, and leaves.
Sunset cannot come quickly enough. Khadmeade must have circled Lancet Street a dozen times by the time he feels it is dark enough to venture to the address. As he has done a hundred times already today, he examines his beard braids for any stray hairs hoping to make a good first impression. He then steps up to the door and knocks.
What the hell - in my spellbook no less? Tristan wonders who could have placed the card. It must have been Bael who put it there. Maybe Gaedran made more enemies than I thought.
Nervously he paced back and forth, any pretense of study gone for the rest of the day.
It is almost a relief when evening comes and he heads to Lancet Street, glaive in hand - ready for business in case that is planned for tonight. He turns the corner and sees a dwarf in front of the address.
Bael looks at his fellow guards. Could one of them...? ... not likely!
Hm, the Locksmith. I should risk a look. Perhaps I should inform Tristan.
... No, better see the person first. On the other hand, he my be invited, too!
Bael dresses his studded leather armor, grabs his weapons and is on his way, stopping only shortly to take a cloak eith a cowl with him to mask his heritage to a casual viewer.
ooc
Image
Without the cloak. I will rework it a bit later.
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Maya traced the tip of a sharp fingernail around the writing on the card. She'd never paid attention to Harrow cards. They were the frivolous games of a frivolous culture. She'd already checked her belongings, and found nothing missing. That was good. The Varisian who's deft fingers had secreted this in her possessions wanted her as an ally.
As it happened, she was prepared to admit that she could use some. Even Varisian.
She stood up and gathered her things. Maya was a tall woman, slender but muscular. Her face was pretty, with strong Shoanti features, but because she kept it carefully shaved and had a tribal tattoo running from her scalp down the right side of her face to her shoulder, her good looks were mostly appreciated by her own people. And that was fine with her.
Maya pulled her cloak on. When traveling alone, she found it helped to conceal herself a bit. A lone Shoanti sometimes got trouble, especially a young woman. With the strange spirit powers that burned in her, she was equal to that trouble...but right now she had more important things to do. Besides, the last thing she needed was to get on the wrong side of the watch just as she seemed close to reaching her goal.
With these thoughts in mind, Maya set out to that address, daring to hope again that she would find the child, and that justice would be meted.
Khadmeade knocks on the door of 3 Lancet Street - a tiny terraced house wedged between others of its ilk, with lath and plaster that has seen better days. There is no answer.
The dwarf notices other figures converging on the address. First to arrive is a male human carrying a pole-arm. Next is a cloaked figure, a glimpse of red skin just visible beneath the cowl. Finally, a tall Shoanti woman. She too seems to be concealing herself within a cloak.
OOC
Okay, so nows the chance for descriptions and introductions. Bael and Tristan would recognise each other.
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A stocky dwarf clad in scale mail stands at the door. He has a wooden shield strapped to his back and a warhammer hanging by his side. Around his neck is a carved wooden charm made to look like a forge. His black beard is very well-groomed, being brushed throughout and braided in several places, and his pate is balding in the front just a bit. His nose is large and pointy and his eyebrows are bushy and dark. His face is dour and serious as he looks over the lot of you.
"So then, out with it. Did one of ye call this meeting? Nae, I think not. Ye don't look like the Harrow dealin' type. So how's it we all arrive at the same address at the same time? The one who called me here said somethin' aboot getting evens with Gaedren Lamm. Might ye be wantin' te crush 'is skull in as well? E's taken me nephew he has. And it'll be a cold day in 'Ell before I allow him to get away with it."
The young human man - dark haired, somewhat muscular, carrying the big weapon but wearing no visible armor - scans the others.
Good evening. I am Tristan. Bael, did you arrange this little party?
"Evening. I'm Bael. No Tristan, the dwarf is right. But I thought I would probably meet you here, too." The cloaked man with the slightly reddish skin answers Tristan. He seems to carry a light backpack below his cloak and on second look, you can discern a rapier.
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"Bael and Tristan is it," the dwarf says, giving the tiefling a particularly discerning eye, "Well, I'm Khadmeade. Though under these circumstances I cannae say it be much of a pleasure. And who might ye be?" he asks the Shoanti woman.
With a glance at the strange hooded man, Maya pulls the cowl of her cloak down to expose her head with a defiant toss.
"Maya, of the Shundar Quah." It was sort of true. She'd received the mark of the tribe, and the blessing of its totem from her father, but technically she hadn't been initiated or recognized.
She surveys the motley assembled before her with a critical eye.
"Bael. Tristan. Khadmeade. I've come to find Gaedran Lamm."
There was more, of course, but she decides not to volunteer it just yet. Just because they had a common foe didn't mean they were allies.
"Well he strikes me as more of the cowardly sort, lass, so I doubt he was the one who summoned us all here. I was told ta come here by a Harrow card. I presumed some gypsy dealt it and ye not look like gypsy folk. So obviously someone be pullin' strings behind the curtains as it 'twere. Seems we're all lookin' fer this Lamm feller though. An' none of us be too happy aboot it neither. I dinnae suppose any of ye have learned anythin' useful aboot him. I confess I've come up empty at just aboot every turn."
Suddenly the door to 3 Lancet Street swings open. A handsome, middle-aged Varisian woman in headscarf and skirts stands behind it. She smiles warmly.
"I apologise for keeping you waiting. My name is Zellara, please come in."
Beyond is a small front room with a curtained doorway leading further back into the building. The room is furnished in simple fashion, with a small table in the centre. A single chair stands on the far side, with four set up on the near side of the room. Wall hangings depicting strange eldritch figures adorn the walls, and light comes from a couple of candle-holders shaped like winged elves. The candles also give forth a rich scent of flowers and spice. On top of the table is a worn tablecloth. On top of the table sits a Harrow deck.
Zellara gestures for you all to sit, as she takes her place behind the single chair on the far side of the room.
"Please be seated," she says. "There is bread and drink in a basket under the table if you wish. I am sorry for the unconventional method of contacting you, but I must remain hidden as much as possible. A terrible man wishes me great harm, a man I believe has caused each of you great harm. A man name Gaedran Lamm."
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Khadmeade's fist slams down upon the table. "Curse 'is bones! E's taken me nephew he has. I want te find 'im so I kin feel the satisfying crunch of his skull 'neath me hammer."
Khadmeade's fist slams down upon the table. "Curse 'is bones! E's taken me nephew he has. I want te find 'im so I kin feel the satisfying crunch of his skull 'neath me hammer."
"This would be to ... quick." Bael says, removing his cowl and showing his ancestry.
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Maya prowls into the room and looks around. The wall hangings with strange emblems on them catch her eye for a moment, but then she focuses on the Varisian woman who had brought them here. A dozen questions spring to mind, not the least of which was, 'how did you know we seek him?' But she asked the most important first.
Zellara picks up her Harrow deck and shuffles it deftly, holding it open to each of you. The intent seems to be that you each replace the cards you were given.
"A year ago, thieves stole my Harrow deck from me. It has been in my family for generations, and as any Varisian will tell you, the older the Harrow the more truth it speaks. It was my only source of income and so my son Eran hunted down the thieves. They were in the employ of a man named Gaedran Lamm and as a reward for his discovery Lamm had my son killed and dumped in the river.
"I went to the guard, but they were not concerned about a penniless Varisian widow, and Lamm had evaded them for years - they were far too slow to catch him even if they had wanted to help. So I searched around, I sold almost everything I had to pay bribes and I consulted the Harrow until finally I had what I sought, Gaedren Lamm's address. But I am powerless to do what needs to be done, to bring about justice, so I found you, others who have been wronged by Lamm with the power to make him pay for his crimes.
"And so I can offer the only two things I have left. Lamm's address, and a Harrow reading to guide you. Lamm can be found in an old fishery north of here, at West Pier 17. Here he trains his gang of child pickpockets, and counts his stolen treasure. Do with this information as you wish."
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Bael nods and puts his Harrow card back. He does it in a way, that prevents the others from easily spotting which symbol he had. He then listens to the reading.
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"Did the lady not explain that she spent all her resources searching fer souls such as us that been wronged by that basterd? Well, milady, I be glad te make Lamm pay fer 'is crimes. A good whumpin' of his 'ead with me hammer and justice shall be done. As good Torag teaches, ain't no justice like that of a stone connectin' with an evil skull. I do thank ye fer yer persistence in seekin' us ought, and I vow by Torag's forge that Lamm will pay for 'is vile deeds. I say, the sooner we go to 'is 'ouse and start dolin' oot vigilante justice the better. What say ye, comrades? Most of ye look like yer at least halfway decent in a fight anyway."
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