Dr. Si's Curse of the Crimson Throne - Alpha Group
- Thread starter Dr Simon
- Start date
Leif
Adventurer
Ok, sorry I missed that, Dr. Si. Actually, it does work better your way with Jerrigan knowing that Tristan and Maya have the brooch, doesn't it? (Makes things much easier, too.)
"Jerrigan, if you are willing, I would appreciate it if you were to accompany me to the palace. I am not entirely certain that I will not be accused of thievery or worse, and thrown into some dungeon, rather than being given the promised reward. But they won't arrest you, a priest who had nothing to do with obtaining the brooch. If the worst should happen, you can tell the others, and the Academy, where I am."
rpgramen
First Post
From what some might call a heathenistic land wrought full of daemons, devils, and fiends of all varieties, Crispin Jeggare -- Scion of the same named House -- stands amongst the denizens of a diseased land. Simpletons, indeed, would be putting it lightly, presuming little to no inflection was placed upon the meanings themselves. A land rife with imbeciles, barbarians, and generally uncivilized beings should never be one such as he's destination for any substantial length of time, but such was the misfortune he now found himself in.
Since before his journey from Chelish territory, this current fiasco had been nothing but that. Having your proverbial allowance cut off by daddy dearest didn't make the trip any easier, suffice it to say, and the current affair only seemed to be degenerating into an even more deplorable state than it had originally been in. Frankly, Crispin wasn't expecting to spend too much time amongst the Varisian barbari and blood-thirsty vagrants, his goal clear-cut and obvious. Imagine then that the entire purpose for the clearly superior scholar had been uprooted, making his visit -- and all of the expenses, both monetary and personally entailed therein -- moot, null, and void.
Gaedran Lamm was dead, killed by upstart locals of all things; Crispin was not happy. Truth be told, he could have cared less about Lamm himself, as he was just another pitiful peon amongst a throng of his own kindred. No, no. Crispin was distraught over the fact that he hadn't had the chance to "interrogate" the gentleman, to warp the vernacular. To further complicate matters, Gaedran was his only viable sentient lead as to the whereabouts of his purpose: Malacia Thrune, a Scion in her own right. Indeed, with her tarnished notebook damaged beyond legibility, the leather-bound documents left little hope as to divuldging any other potential clues as to her whereabouts... presuming, of course, there were any and she simply wasn't dead by this point.
Regardless, Crispin was ever vigil in the act of unearthing the truth, grim as it may be. His task had only changed slightly, in the grand scheme of things. With Lamm out of the picture, it stood to reason that if anyone in this two-bit, one-horse Varisian town of Korvosa knew anything about anything at all, it would most likely be the rabble-rousers who'd finally decided to do something about Gaedran, and therefore they had become the wayward scion's next clue in unraveling this most disturbing mystery.
It wasn't exactly cryptographically challenging to locate the clergyman in question as the town buzzed and gossiped of him and his comptariots' pathetic exploits in ridding a small-time murderer.
Sauntering through the Korvosan streets in as a refined a manner as one can muster amongst such brutish people, Crispin's journey to the local temple in question doesn't take too long sans inquiries for directions and descriptions of the individuals the Chelaxian intellectual was looking for. With a confident stride and a hand lazily palmed over the hilt of his only means of physical defense, Crispin Jeggare shoved the door of the worshipping establishment open with all but the faintest of squeaks resonating from the force, an equally high-pitched wail echoing its breathren as the door shut after the auburn-haired and finely-clad gent had strode beyond the threshold. The smell of sacreligious alcohol and wafted just enough throughout the establishment to be detectable, garnering a grimace of chagrin and disdain from the refined socialite as he surveyed the room.
"You there!" Crispin demanded with practiced flair after winding his way through the hallowed halls, a single gloved hand pointing inexplicably towards whom he could only presume to be a young acolyte in the service of whatever deity was worshipped therein. "I'm looking for the cleric known as Khadmeade. Where is he?" he ordered, harriedly harrassing the poor choirchild with scorn-worthy gazes and a harsh tone.
Since before his journey from Chelish territory, this current fiasco had been nothing but that. Having your proverbial allowance cut off by daddy dearest didn't make the trip any easier, suffice it to say, and the current affair only seemed to be degenerating into an even more deplorable state than it had originally been in. Frankly, Crispin wasn't expecting to spend too much time amongst the Varisian barbari and blood-thirsty vagrants, his goal clear-cut and obvious. Imagine then that the entire purpose for the clearly superior scholar had been uprooted, making his visit -- and all of the expenses, both monetary and personally entailed therein -- moot, null, and void.
Gaedran Lamm was dead, killed by upstart locals of all things; Crispin was not happy. Truth be told, he could have cared less about Lamm himself, as he was just another pitiful peon amongst a throng of his own kindred. No, no. Crispin was distraught over the fact that he hadn't had the chance to "interrogate" the gentleman, to warp the vernacular. To further complicate matters, Gaedran was his only viable sentient lead as to the whereabouts of his purpose: Malacia Thrune, a Scion in her own right. Indeed, with her tarnished notebook damaged beyond legibility, the leather-bound documents left little hope as to divuldging any other potential clues as to her whereabouts... presuming, of course, there were any and she simply wasn't dead by this point.
Regardless, Crispin was ever vigil in the act of unearthing the truth, grim as it may be. His task had only changed slightly, in the grand scheme of things. With Lamm out of the picture, it stood to reason that if anyone in this two-bit, one-horse Varisian town of Korvosa knew anything about anything at all, it would most likely be the rabble-rousers who'd finally decided to do something about Gaedran, and therefore they had become the wayward scion's next clue in unraveling this most disturbing mystery.
It wasn't exactly cryptographically challenging to locate the clergyman in question as the town buzzed and gossiped of him and his comptariots' pathetic exploits in ridding a small-time murderer.
Sauntering through the Korvosan streets in as a refined a manner as one can muster amongst such brutish people, Crispin's journey to the local temple in question doesn't take too long sans inquiries for directions and descriptions of the individuals the Chelaxian intellectual was looking for. With a confident stride and a hand lazily palmed over the hilt of his only means of physical defense, Crispin Jeggare shoved the door of the worshipping establishment open with all but the faintest of squeaks resonating from the force, an equally high-pitched wail echoing its breathren as the door shut after the auburn-haired and finely-clad gent had strode beyond the threshold. The smell of sacreligious alcohol and wafted just enough throughout the establishment to be detectable, garnering a grimace of chagrin and disdain from the refined socialite as he surveyed the room.
"You there!" Crispin demanded with practiced flair after winding his way through the hallowed halls, a single gloved hand pointing inexplicably towards whom he could only presume to be a young acolyte in the service of whatever deity was worshipped therein. "I'm looking for the cleric known as Khadmeade. Where is he?" he ordered, harriedly harrassing the poor choirchild with scorn-worthy gazes and a harsh tone.
Leif
Adventurer
Jerrigan Arbordelve
"Absolutely, Tristan! And I will do my utmost to see that you retain your freedom as well. Although, what will happen if we are both detained I cannot say...."
Dr Simon
Explorer
OOC: Oops, guess it's me!
[SBLOCK=Tristan and Jerrigan]
Tristan and Jerrigan set off to Castle Korvosa, intent on returning the Queen's lost brooch and, perhaps, looking forward to rewards both monetary and intangible.
Castle Korvosa towers over the city. It is built atop a huge stone pyramid, an ancient Shoanti ruin known as the Grand Mastaba. When General Korvosa conquered the surrounding lands he forced the Shoanti out of the area and, the castle was built atop the ruin as a grand gesture of "up yours" to the natives. The southeast corner of the Grand Mastaba is in poor repair where people have removed stones for their own building materials over the years, the rest is still an imposing edifice with stone steps up each of its four sides.
The castle proper is an towering building in Chelaxian style, all black stone, spiny turrets and gargoyles, but the gates are open and the castle guard (members of the Korvosan Guard) allow you entry once you have told them of your mission. Two of them accompany you through the busy courtyards to the inner keep where a tall, dark, beautiful woman dressed in ornate (yet funnctional looking) armour designed as much to show off her shapely form as to protect her from damage, stands waiting.
One of the guards explains the situation to her and she nods.
"Thank you, and well done," she says to the guard. "You may leave us now, I'll take these heroes to Her Majesty myself." The guards bow to her and return to their posts.
The woman smiles warmly at you both.
"The Queen will be pleased," she says. "Perhaps you will bring a little bit of happiness to her. Come with me. You'll have to leave your weapons outside the throne room, I'm afraid, but I'm sure Her Majesty has nothing to fear from such fine upstanding citizens as yourselves. You must tell me how you came by it some time, but first I must inform you of protocol"
As she talks, the woman takes you down the broad corridors leading to the throne room.
"First, you must wait until the Queen addresses you before you speak. Second, address her as Your Majesty the first time you speak to her; after that Ma'am will suffice. You may not touch the Queen's person, and do not approach the throne unless requested to do so. You are not courtiers, so I don't expect you to bow or curtsey correctly. Now, how do you wish to be addressed to Her Majesty?"
[/SBLOCK]
[SBLOCK=Crispin]
Korvosa lacks many temples. Only the large Bank of Abadar and the newly built Temple of Asmodeus stand alone. Worshippers of other gods, including the dwarf god Torag, are forced to share this domed building known as The Pantheon.
The young acolyte runs off, a nervous look on his face. For a moment, Crispin isn't sure if he hasn't just frightened the youth away, but shortly there are heavy footsteps and a burly dwarf appears. His calloused hands smooth down his beard and conspicuously adjust the warhammer at his belt.
"Ah'm Khadmeade," he says in a gruff voice. "And who might ye be, shoutin' mah name aboot like tha'?"
[/SBLOCK]
[SBLOCK=Maya]
Not much to report for Maya. Selling the items is a fairly straightforward affair. There is a stand of shops known as Eodred's Walk which cover your typical adventurer's buying and selling needs. It will, however, take bout as much time as the boys trip to the Queen.
[/SBLOCK]
[SBLOCK=Tristan and Jerrigan]
Tristan and Jerrigan set off to Castle Korvosa, intent on returning the Queen's lost brooch and, perhaps, looking forward to rewards both monetary and intangible.
Castle Korvosa towers over the city. It is built atop a huge stone pyramid, an ancient Shoanti ruin known as the Grand Mastaba. When General Korvosa conquered the surrounding lands he forced the Shoanti out of the area and, the castle was built atop the ruin as a grand gesture of "up yours" to the natives. The southeast corner of the Grand Mastaba is in poor repair where people have removed stones for their own building materials over the years, the rest is still an imposing edifice with stone steps up each of its four sides.
The castle proper is an towering building in Chelaxian style, all black stone, spiny turrets and gargoyles, but the gates are open and the castle guard (members of the Korvosan Guard) allow you entry once you have told them of your mission. Two of them accompany you through the busy courtyards to the inner keep where a tall, dark, beautiful woman dressed in ornate (yet funnctional looking) armour designed as much to show off her shapely form as to protect her from damage, stands waiting.
One of the guards explains the situation to her and she nods.
"Thank you, and well done," she says to the guard. "You may leave us now, I'll take these heroes to Her Majesty myself." The guards bow to her and return to their posts.
The woman smiles warmly at you both.
"The Queen will be pleased," she says. "Perhaps you will bring a little bit of happiness to her. Come with me. You'll have to leave your weapons outside the throne room, I'm afraid, but I'm sure Her Majesty has nothing to fear from such fine upstanding citizens as yourselves. You must tell me how you came by it some time, but first I must inform you of protocol"
As she talks, the woman takes you down the broad corridors leading to the throne room.
"First, you must wait until the Queen addresses you before you speak. Second, address her as Your Majesty the first time you speak to her; after that Ma'am will suffice. You may not touch the Queen's person, and do not approach the throne unless requested to do so. You are not courtiers, so I don't expect you to bow or curtsey correctly. Now, how do you wish to be addressed to Her Majesty?"
[/SBLOCK]
[SBLOCK=Crispin]
Korvosa lacks many temples. Only the large Bank of Abadar and the newly built Temple of Asmodeus stand alone. Worshippers of other gods, including the dwarf god Torag, are forced to share this domed building known as The Pantheon.
The young acolyte runs off, a nervous look on his face. For a moment, Crispin isn't sure if he hasn't just frightened the youth away, but shortly there are heavy footsteps and a burly dwarf appears. His calloused hands smooth down his beard and conspicuously adjust the warhammer at his belt.
"Ah'm Khadmeade," he says in a gruff voice. "And who might ye be, shoutin' mah name aboot like tha'?"
[/SBLOCK]
[SBLOCK=Maya]
Not much to report for Maya. Selling the items is a fairly straightforward affair. There is a stand of shops known as Eodred's Walk which cover your typical adventurer's buying and selling needs. It will, however, take bout as much time as the boys trip to the Queen.
[/SBLOCK]
rpgramen
First Post
Typical dwarven behavior. Ill-kempt, blunt, and crass. Frankly, it was more than Crispin was expecting, given the history he'd had with others of the cleric's kind. At least on the bright side this one didn't reek of alcohol and vomit, a boon by any other name smelling just as sweet.
"Who I am is of little real importance, Clergyman." the Chelish scholar chides, his voice riddled with sarcasm and indifference to form some unfathomable concoction of generic dis-satisfaction at the being brought before him. Looking the stout fellow up and down a few times, the egotistical scion applies more pressure to the hilt of his blade, ready to draw steel in the event the inferior little dwarf really was drunk and looking for a fight before continuing on with the business at hand.
"I've journeyed numerous leagues from my home to reach this... erm... 'civilized' locale, following instructions relayed to me by a woman who was investigating the Lamm Incident, if you catch the vernacular." Crispin states condescendingly, his eyes intently focused on the pain-stakingly stumpy individual before him. "You, Clergyman, were part of the contingency group that dealt with him -- or so the rumor mill would lead me to believe, at any rate. My purpose here, dwarf, is to find this woman -- a personal friend of mine -- or at least some clue as to her whereabouts. Perhaps you've seen her? She's a human Pathfinder by the name of Malacia Thrune, easily identifiable by those blasted compass contraptions they always carry; about my height with brown hair, and Chelish." Snarkily, perhaps, would be putting the description of the inquiry lightly, but it nevertheless was just that -- an elaborate inquisition, sans the grotesque torture and (mostly) inhumane means of questioning.
Dr Simon
Explorer
[SBLOCK=Tristan and Jerrigan]
With a nod, the Queen's Handmaiden leads you into the throne room. The tall vaulted room is pristine but mostly empty. Stained glass windows showing former kings and queens let in light from the east, with tapestries covering the opposite wall. Heat comes from an immense fireplace, and a silken carpet leads up to the throne itself, a red and black spidery-looking affair.
Dressed in mourning black, with a delicate veil that doesn't quite hide her sad beauty, Queen Ileosa is sat up the throne.
"Your Majesty, may I present Tristan Fuller and Jerrigan Arbordelve," announces Sabine. In a quieter voice she asks for the brooch, which she takes and presents to the Queen. The Queen's face lights up in a broad smile.
"You may approach," says the Queen. "We thank you for this service you have done to us, and we will award you accordingly. We wish all of our subjects were as brave, as noble and as loyal as you."
Her voice breaks a little and she drops the formal tone, becoming less the imperious ruler and more a sad young woman.
"This brooch was stolen from me some time ago, and truth be told I had not expected to see it again. Thank you for bringing a little light to these dark times."
She stands up.
"I love Korvosa, as did my husband, and it saddens me to see my city torn apart by rioting and disorder. If you so choose, you can do me further great service. Sabina will give you the details, and your reward. If you'll excuse me, I must retire to my personal quarters, my grief has quite drained me."
The Queen steps down from the throne with an elegant swirl of her mourning dress, and looks back with an almost coquettish glance, were it not for the tear-reddened eyes.
"Thank you again for your kindness. I hope that your days of serving the Crown are only just beginning." And with that, she is gone.
Sabina, the Handmaiden, hands over a small silver chest to Tristan. Inside the red velvet lined interior of the chest are 12 gold ingots bearing the seal of Korvosa. Sabina shuts the chest and passes it to Lynn.
"Your reward for finding the brooch," she says. "Regarding the Queen's other offer, I am authorised to offer you a secondment to the Korvosan Guard, as..." she searches for the word, "special agents. It is a chance to restore stability to the city and, perhaps, to help make it something greater. You will have considerable autonomy in your actions, you will help the Queen, and it will prove financially favourable for you. What do you say?"
OOC: The ingots are trade bars worth 100 gp each. The chest looks worth a bit too. Feel free to interject comments if you wish.
[/SBLOCK]
[SBLOCK=Crispin]
Khadmeade fold his arms.
"Ah've no heard of your 'friend', boy," replies the dwarf with emphasis. "And if she were investigatin' Lamm all ah can say is she dinnae do a good job of preventin' murder and kidnap oan several accounts ah know aboot. If it's a Thrune ye want ye'd be best askin' up in the Heights where the nobles live. Ah cannae help ye more, even if ah had a mind tae. Ah ain't from this city and ah'm leavin' soon." He glances up and down Crispin. "Too many jumped-up pansy-boys fae mah likin'," he says.
[/SBLOCK]
Maya: Still selling.
With a nod, the Queen's Handmaiden leads you into the throne room. The tall vaulted room is pristine but mostly empty. Stained glass windows showing former kings and queens let in light from the east, with tapestries covering the opposite wall. Heat comes from an immense fireplace, and a silken carpet leads up to the throne itself, a red and black spidery-looking affair.
Dressed in mourning black, with a delicate veil that doesn't quite hide her sad beauty, Queen Ileosa is sat up the throne.
"Your Majesty, may I present Tristan Fuller and Jerrigan Arbordelve," announces Sabine. In a quieter voice she asks for the brooch, which she takes and presents to the Queen. The Queen's face lights up in a broad smile.
"You may approach," says the Queen. "We thank you for this service you have done to us, and we will award you accordingly. We wish all of our subjects were as brave, as noble and as loyal as you."
Her voice breaks a little and she drops the formal tone, becoming less the imperious ruler and more a sad young woman.
"This brooch was stolen from me some time ago, and truth be told I had not expected to see it again. Thank you for bringing a little light to these dark times."
She stands up.
"I love Korvosa, as did my husband, and it saddens me to see my city torn apart by rioting and disorder. If you so choose, you can do me further great service. Sabina will give you the details, and your reward. If you'll excuse me, I must retire to my personal quarters, my grief has quite drained me."
The Queen steps down from the throne with an elegant swirl of her mourning dress, and looks back with an almost coquettish glance, were it not for the tear-reddened eyes.
"Thank you again for your kindness. I hope that your days of serving the Crown are only just beginning." And with that, she is gone.
Sabina, the Handmaiden, hands over a small silver chest to Tristan. Inside the red velvet lined interior of the chest are 12 gold ingots bearing the seal of Korvosa. Sabina shuts the chest and passes it to Lynn.
"Your reward for finding the brooch," she says. "Regarding the Queen's other offer, I am authorised to offer you a secondment to the Korvosan Guard, as..." she searches for the word, "special agents. It is a chance to restore stability to the city and, perhaps, to help make it something greater. You will have considerable autonomy in your actions, you will help the Queen, and it will prove financially favourable for you. What do you say?"
OOC: The ingots are trade bars worth 100 gp each. The chest looks worth a bit too. Feel free to interject comments if you wish.
[/SBLOCK]
[SBLOCK=Crispin]
Khadmeade fold his arms.
"Ah've no heard of your 'friend', boy," replies the dwarf with emphasis. "And if she were investigatin' Lamm all ah can say is she dinnae do a good job of preventin' murder and kidnap oan several accounts ah know aboot. If it's a Thrune ye want ye'd be best askin' up in the Heights where the nobles live. Ah cannae help ye more, even if ah had a mind tae. Ah ain't from this city and ah'm leavin' soon." He glances up and down Crispin. "Too many jumped-up pansy-boys fae mah likin'," he says.
[/SBLOCK]
Maya: Still selling.
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