Crimson Throne: The Harrowing

[Myzaraphiston Synderfell]

It is another simple summer day in Korvosa. It is a day like any other, with people milling about the city taking care of their day to day business. No matter where you go in the city, though, there is the presence of some sort of law. The Korvosan Guard patrols the streets, ready to apprehend those who would attempt to disturb the peace. The Sable Company is in the air, borne aloft by their hippogrif mounts. And, in the places where even the Korvosan Guard fears to tread, there are the Hellknights, laying down the heavy hand of the law on those who would dare to break it.

However, not all criminals get punished, even in Korvosa. Some are able to slip under the radar of all of these lawmen and women, and can become a blight in the lives of many people. Our story begins because of one such man, and the individuals he has harmed.

-----

Raek Wilder, a humble Varisian bard, start his day by finding a Harrow card placed in the strings of his lyre. It was the Courtesan, a card that he would know from his Varisian heritage implied intrigue of the political or feminine kind. How it got there was another question, since he was safely inside his home and hadn't heard anyone during the night.

Olo Bramble, a halfing that had the unique talent of being able to steal magic itself, would meanwhile have found a Harrow cards in one of the books he was purusing in the library. His card had the image of the Cricket upon it, which could symbolize either a safe and speedy passage, or a perilous journey.

William Lightwood started his day as he usually did for his order: Ensuring that the alters for the Church of Pharasma were properly tended to, and cleaning those that needed it. Like the others, he too would find a Harrow card, perched behind the alter he was tending to. Upon it was the Queen Mother, a card symbolizing Knowledge through fealty, though he would be unaware of that himself.

Jamalamin Silverkin would find a card perched in his armor as he began his day, this one with the image of The Bear upon it. If he was a smarter individual, he might have known that the card would symbolize brute force reigning over all.

Then, there was Derkethus Sonofnone, the Shaonti who had enrolled in the Academae. While he was preparing to start his day of fishing to support his schooling, he too would find a card. His was the Marriage, a card that symbolized the union of persons or ideas.

Upon the back of each card was a simple message, written in a flowing script: 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 at sunset. Others like you will be there. Gaedren must face his fate, and justice must be done.

Now... What do you do?

[Kyomei Kuchiki]

Get up. Eat. Jog on the rooftops. Eat. Study at the library. Fool around with the Gypsy, get money. Eat. Sleep. Repeat. This process had gone on for so long, Olo couldn't remember the last time that it was different. Scratch that, he knew exactly a time when it was different, and he put it out of his mind. The street-side Doc told him that he should repress any delusions that he had. He had not been kidnapped as a child, forced to work in places that needed abnormally short beings, like young halflings. He had not been kicked around daily and he most certainly had not been beaten within an inch of his life and left in the winter snow. No, that was crazy talk and if he kept going he'd be put in the asylum. Or put down, that was an option too.

It was another day in the Library, searching for anything that'd help him train the natural talent that he'd found awhile back. Lately he'd been employed as someone of less than respectable trade. He was silver fingered, not really silver tongued. With a ball and a few cups, he could liberate even the keenest eyes of their hard earned gold, especially the regular customers. When taking the gold out of a particularly well dressed man, he felt a tingle in his finger tips. When he embraced it, he found that he had a memory just sitting on his brain. Five minutes later, he accessed that memory and a cart full of horse feed blew up from some sort of projectile leaping out of his hand. The memory soon faded, but the memory of having the memory was still there. Thus, he poured over all the texts that he could find, well, the ones that he could read, that is.

One average afternoon, one of the librarians said that a book had been recommended for him. It was definitely strange, but he took the book and put it in his pile. When he got around to flipping through the book, a Harrow card fell out. "The Cricket? Some sort of journey? Anything to break up the same old same old would be nice. Oh, a message on the back?" The message made the halfling cringe, before settling on a determined scowl. There was a fire in his eyes, a fire to avenge what he knew to have happened. Glaedren would surely pay. Olo left the library at his usual time, packed up his equipment, and made for the designated area via the rooftops. Swiftly, silently, the hidden blade would descend upon Glaedren's neck and he'd look into the eyes of the oppressed as his life blood fell to the ground.

[Zieg Revolver]

Jamlamin awoke in his rigidity home in Old Korvosa, doing the same thing he did everytime he awoke in the morning. He sat up from his bedroll, his hands palm up in his lap, and stared down at them. On them, were several of his first scars from the days when he had been captured and used as a “Little Lamm". Years and years of intense labor had fortified his body, as an orc should be when he was preparing for a life of combat. Of course, he wasn't a true orc, he knew this all his life despite being the practical size of one. He still towered over humans in both size and strength and he knew that he frightened people when they caught sight of him. He learned it was best to never make eye contact with the humans, to only say what was needed and keep on his way.

He couldn't remember the exact day when it happened, or even why for the matter, perhaps they were beginning to notice the orc's size growing and growing and did not believe they could control him any longer. Either case, they made the decision to dispose of Jamlamin as they saw fit. They outnumbered him, beat him bloody, broke his wrists and dragged him to the elder city of Old Korvosa. There, even with broken wrists and near death, Jamlamin survived on his own for a few months, his teeth and legs being the only tools he needed while his hands healed. Then, the other half orcs of Old Korvosa found him, astonished with the fact he had survived for such a time by himself. They took him in as a community, helped him whether he wanted them to or not, and let him stay within the district. There, he devoted his life to two things: Surviving and Vengeance. He wanted, no, needed to kill the one who had stolen his life away, or at least tried to. Jamlamin, unknown to Gaedren, was still very alive and kicking.

Jamlamin finally got up and moved around his house, preparing himself for the day o come. He knew anything could happen, at any given time, so he had to prepare himself for anything. He stared at himself for a moment in a cracked mirror, realizing for a second how much older he was then back then, turning away as he looked down at his armor set. One of his most prized possessions was the equipment he managed to acquire through the years, working tasking jobs and fetching meat and skins for the merchants. They did not mind his appearance after awhile, not when he brought them what they wanted and needed in massive armfuls. Of course, he only got a small amount of coin from it but it was worth it in the end. Scanning his armor, he suddenly realized there was something sticking out of it, something which he snatched up quickly and held under a light so he could see it clearly.

He first saw the bear, staring at it as he tried to make sense why this card had a bear on it. He had encountered bears before in the wild, had killed a few in fact. They were fierce creatures, ones to never underestimated for they were had a killer instinct and mind. They would try anything to kill you in a fight and you needed to get them before they got you. He didn't ponder this for too long, as he flipped the card over and read the message. He read it once, twice, even a third time to make sure he was reading the common language correctly. "Gaedren... Justice..." Jamlamin growled as his free hand clenched up in a tight fist, the sounds of his knuckles cracked as his fist shook. He quickly began gathering his equipment together, putting his scale armor on, latching his heavy steel shield to his back, strapping his battle axe to his right side, rolling up the bedroll and tying it, the rope he had, what coin he had also, and his lantern to his lowerback so all were firmly secured. He kept the card in hand as he read the address one more time before he headed out and began traveling towards said location. It was more then likely he was going to be one of, if not the, last party member to arrive on site by sunset.

[Zeich Yajuu]

Delicate fingers drummed gently on the strings of a lute as Raek Wilder practiced in the solitude of his room that he had rented from an elderly woman by playing at her husband’s funeral only a day before. Though he was one of the Varisian Gypsies, and often was turned away as a thief or a vagabond, there were also many who had heard of him as a skilled bard, one who performed for low fees. Though he boasted a wide repertoire of songs and stories, surprisingly his greatest skills lay in his dirges and requiems. Many imagined that a great sadness lay on Raek’s heart, and they were right, but no one could imagine just what hurt ate him from the inside, what pain swallowed him into its depths.

Raek sang for his lost lover, the woman that was to be his wife. Though she had left their trope of Varisians, hoping to find life in the city and settle down, Raek had followed her. He had left behind the freedom he loved, the lively lifestyle that they celebrated every day, in order to follow her. He had to; without the woman he loved by his side, the joy would go out of his life and he would just be empty. Of course, that’s what he was now: empty. Raek could fake a smile as much as any consummate actor, and could fool anyone he tried. But it was all a façade, a mask he hid behind to disguise his pain, the ache that would never leave his heart. And so he sang to share his grief with the world.

“I sing for you, Mina…”

Sighing, Raek turned his head to the card that he had placed upon the nightstand of the room he was renting. He had found the small object lodged in the strings of his lyre despite the elderly woman sincerely declaring that no one had entered the room. It was part of a Harrow deck, something Varisians were very familiar with, as their fortune-tellers used them often for “seeing the future” for any paying customers. This one in particular intrigued Raek, as he stared at the face of the Courtesan inscribed on the front side of the card. A symbol of political intrigue would apply to most, yet this card also had a suggestion of a feminine undertone that applied specifically to Raek himself, a reminder of the love he had lost.

“What does this card mean? Who sent this?” Indeed those were the important questions; Raek could not think of anyone whom he had told about Mina’s death and the cause behind it, yet there was clearly a feminine sign in the card’s picture. The truth was simple; she had become a victim of a mugging, and Raek had arrived only in time to see the body carted away. One hand had fallen free from the shroud covering it, Mina’s left hand. And missing from the fourth finger was a single golden ring, wreathed in thin lines of tooled gold that wrapped around the outside of the band. This was the ring that Raek had given his beloved as a proposal as the sign of their engagement, and now, it was simply gone. The second blow to his sensibilities had left the bard unable to speak for three days. All of his performances were canceled, and he refused to leave his room for the entire time. It was only with the coaxing of his landlord at the time that he had come out to eat, gaunt and exhausted with his grief.

For a week he had wandered the city, his mind in a daze. He didn’t attempt to garner any attention, to book any performances. Instead he just walked without direction, went wherever his feet took him. Such sobriety was unusual in a Varisian gypsy, and people gave him a wide berth, wondering if he was sick. Raek hadn’t cared, had just continued on his way. And then he had come upon the fateful stall that had restored his will to live, along with a fiery anger that was unusual in the level-headed bard. In that stall he had found the ring that he had offered Mina only a short time ago, before she had been murdered. In the stall, he had forced the merchant to tell him where he had come by that ring at thread of knifepoint. A name had come up, Gaedren Lamm. An oath was made that day.

Looking at the words on the card again, Raek made up his mind. Tucking the small object into his pocket, and fastening his lute to his back, the bard turned and headed for the address indicated on the card. Today, his oath would be fulfilled. He would avenge his loss, and put Mina’s soul at rest. He would kill Gaedren, and only then would his own heart find peace.

[Deleted]

It had started like almost any other morning. Derkethus had been lying in bed in his home in Old Korvosa, trying to come up with a simple joke to put himself in a cheery mode. ” A warrior comes home very drunk from the pub with a Duck under his arm, his wife answers the door "’what's this?’" The warrior replies "’this is the dragon i've been shaggin'" The angry wife shouts "’That is not a Dragon that is a duck’" The warrior looks at her and says "I was talking to the duck!”” Derkethus told himself. The Shaonti couldn’t help but get a huge grin on his face and laugh, a loud laugh. Derkethus wiped a small tear from his eye as he got to his feet. ”Ah, that was a good one. I will have to remember that one.” he said with a few giggles and a large grin.

Derkethus then walked down about three steps to enter his “living room”. See, the Shaonti did not live in anything actually big. It was about one room, just one large room. There was a elevated portion of the room that served as the bed room. The lower portion held a simple kitchen and many kinds of fishing tools. Nets, poles, string, hooks, sealed buckets of bait.

On the only table in the home was a set of Studded Leather armor, along with a Light Wooden Shield. There was a Club by the doorway, and a Crossbow hanging on the wall. Derkethus really did not need these weapons, after all he was in fact a powerful Warmage. A wizard who specialized in dealing damage, and just destroying everything, that’s what a Warmage was. And that was what Derkethus was. Sometimes he wondered if he should have just been a wizard, to be able to do other things than just destroy. But, he had chosen his path to be a wizard of war.

As Derkethus walked towards the table he stopped alongside the wall. Hanging from the wall off a peg was a necklace. It was a simple metal necklace, but it held great meaning to Derkethus. It had been his sisters, well not really hers. She had made it for him. Awhile back his sister had been found stabbed to death in an alleyway. She had been his only family for the last few years after their parents had died of illness. This necklace was all Derkethus had left of her. The Warmage put on a small smile and headed towards the door to get some fresh air.

But, he stopped when he noticed something that resembled a card stuck underneath his door. ”What in the world…I am not expecting any mail.” Derkethus said as he bent down and grabbed a hold of it. He pulled it up and noticed it was some sort of card. The mage then read what it said. His face turned from confusion to anger. ”Gaedren….” the Shaonti growled. This was the man that was responsible for his sisters death. Or so Derkethus believed from his own information gathering. There was a address on the card, saying there would be others there like him. So, Derkethus turned and headed towards the table. He grabbed a hold of the armor sitting on the table and within a few minutes had it on. He grabbed a hold of the shield and strapped it to his left arm. The club by the door, tied to his waist. Even the Crossbow would be brought. It was tied across his shoulder. Derkethus then opened up a cabinet and grabbed a small bag. A Spell Component. Derkeths tied it off to his waist and headed for the door, but stopped. He turned and yanked the necklace off the wall and tied it across his neck before sticking it beneath his armor. ”I will avenge you…Lyre.”Derkethus said as he headed out the door to the destination on the card.

[Hokori Kuchiki]

William awoke from his bed and dressed in his priest robes and left his room. He walked outside and made his way to the temple of Pharasma. From there he entered and inhaled, it was a great thing to be a cleric in this place. He marked himself and prayed upon entering. Upon making his way to the front he dipped his head in prayer in front of the largest alter. From there he began his duties, he began to walk the rows of chairs, picking up any foreign objects that he deemed not supposed to be there. He then began to water the plants. It was something he enjoyed and took his mind off of things that he had been made to endure throughout his life. He remembered his best friend coming to his place of worship and crying over the fact that his little daughter had gone missing. They had searched and searched and come up with little to nothing. They suspected Gaedren, but they had been able to do nothing about it as the guards were all busy with more important things.

As he finished with the daily botany, he started to work his way around the Alters, he only had to clean three. It still took him most of the day because he took the time to look over each and every alter with great care, each alter depicted his god Pharasma in all her glory. However the sun was already on its returning arc to the land when he reached his last Alter, its surface scuffed and he began to polish the front. He worked his way around, paying great detail to his work. He almost missed the Tarot card, but upon stepping on it he heard a crunching noise and looked down. He picked up the card and glanced at it's surface, he was unsure of its meaning however the note on the rear of it was clear. 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 at sunset. Others like you will be there. Gaedren must face his fate, and justice must be done.

William immediately put everything away, and made his way to his room. He found it hard, but he managed to get into a calmed state enough to meditate, during which he chose his spells from his goddess. His choices were wise with the fact that he lacked information of what he would face. After he finished he realized the sun was almost ready to set. He threw open his trunk throwing on his travel clothes, he also grabbed his sleeping roll and his mace. He had trained with it recently but took to the habit of storing it away in his trunk. He belted it and then tightened his silver rosary around his right wrist. Closing and locking his trunk he stood up and drew his hood over his head in such a way it hid the top most part of his face. He left his room and his living quarters. He put his right hand in his pocket, the address playing over and over again in his mind. He could get back his best friend's daughter and make Gaedren pay. He was also weary, what if he was walking into a trap. He couldn't afford not to risk it, his mandate required it. "By the light of Pharasma, I will save her."

[Francis Grin]

The location they were each traveling to was in a Varisian dominated district in the Midland section of the city. As with most of the city, it's filled with crowds of people going about their daily business: Haggling with customers or merchants for basic goods, walking to their destinations, and (in the case of the children) playing in the streets. You are able to quickly find the home they were traveling to, a simple wooden building that is just as well made as the others in this district. It possessed no door, simply a curtain hanging in an open space. There weren't any windows upon the front portion of the building either, with the light seeming to be coming in from some opening in the roof, ones that could easily be covered up by cloth.

Upon entering the establishment, they would see that the place was simply one cozy chamber filled with a fragrant haze of flowers and strong spice. The haze was coming from several sticks of incense smouldering in wall-mounted burners that looked 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 six elegant tall-backed chairs. A basket covered by blue cloth sits under the table.

On top of the basket laid a simple note, written in the same flowing script as the message on the cards they had found. 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.

Those that investigate the basket will find that it does indeed contain bread, and a bottle of red wine. The bread is a little bit stale, but still rather filling. The wine, meanwhile, isn't exactly a fine wine, but still plenty good enough. Now... What do you do?

(OOC: Now. You guys will have 3 post cycles in the order you've established to talk among one another, starting now.)

[Kyomei Kuchiki]

Dancing across the rooftops, Olo quickly found his way to the building that was to be his destination. It was a small wooden building, not wealthy in form at all. Just a flap of cloth for a door and some rugs on the roof that could be removed to let sunlight in. It was through this hole in the roof that the halfling entered the room. There was a nice smokey atmosphere of incense in the humble abode, with some handcrafted tapestries covering three of the four walls. Olo's eyes drifted over the depictions, his gaze resting on the hooded figure of the mist. The tall cloaked creature was mysterious, hiding its face, though it was empowered, brandishing a flaming sword with its uncovered skeletal arms. The mist hid him from sight, though he was clearly poised to strike a killing blow. "I could learn from this one, for sure."

Wrapping up his looking at the tapestries, Olo noticed the table with the note on top of the nice red tablecloth. The note mentioned food and drink, which the Halfling was more than willing to partake of. Snatching a chunk of bread, he nibbled on it, though it was stale, while he waited for the rest of the crew to arrive.

[Zieg Revolver]

Jamlamin eventually reached the "door" moments after the halfling made his way inside and got comfortable. It was nearly sunset now, his back to the setting sun, as he examined the outside of the home that was meant to be the meeting place. The half orc, card still in hand, checked it again to make sure he was write and stared at the house for a moment. "This is no better then my home..." Jamlamin commented in his mind as he took a whiff of the air, smelling as to pick up the scent of what was inside. Nothing really uncommon or suspicious, he smelt a burning incense, along with the scent of a single being. It didn't have the scent of death on it, so Jamlamin assumed it to be alive. Well, the half orc didn't travel here all the way here from the hills for nothing, he was going in regardless of there being a single person in there or not. If Olo was paying any kind of attention to the cloth covered doorway, he more then likely would see the enormous shadow of Jamlamin before he entered the doorway, alerting him of his presence before he stepped in.

He didn't see the halfling at first, gazing from side to side as he stood infront of doorway after making his way inside. He didn't have anything to say about the artwork, he wasn't artistic at all. The flaming sword, though, did catch his eye as to be a very powerful weapon of some kind. Seconds later, his eyes returned forward and settled on the halfling, who no doubt was staring at the towering being that was Jamlamin. He recognized the species right away, for there were very few that short he had encountered. Vogal Ni, Halfling. The half orc spoke in both orcish and common as he lumbered his way to the table, the light displaying the orc's full features and equipment. He looked him over once before he took a seat down from across the halfling. He would then raise a fist and thump it against his armor once as he looked at Olo. "Jamlamin." he introduced himself in a single word to Olo, awaiting a response afterward before he took a piece of bread and gnawed a huge chunk out of it. Although it wasn't meat, the half orc did not mind, food was food afterall.

[Zeich Yajuu]

Though the Halfling had been early to arrive, none had come before Raek Wilder. The bard had arrived upon the humble abode, determined it to be empty, and had swept inside. The bread and drink were ignored, the note scanned for only a moment, and then the Varisian began to plan. Being a gypsy, he was quick-thinking and cunning, allowing him to come up with ideas on the spot. Clearly his “host” was thinking several steps ahead, and had led him by the nose like a horse plodding after the proverbial carrot on a stick. It was obvious that there was something afoot, that Raek was no more than a tool to deal with Gaedren, but that concern was dismissed; as long as the man was slain, as long as Mina was avenged, Raek did not care for his own fate.

Observing the tapestries, the gypsy found some amusement in the portrayal of a black beast juggling hearts; it was symbolic in his eyes, the ability to beguile the average fool and tug on their hearts like the strings of a puppet. Any Varisian knew how to do it well, as it was part of their way of life. A brief smile crossed Raek’s lips, and he reflected on the images for a moment. The card and the tapestry both seemed to speak to him in some way, making him further believe that some plan was laid in place, a path leading the bard as a weapon against Gaedren. Clearly, the host of this meeting was more cunning than even a Varisian gypsy, as Raek could not understand what exactly this plan entailed.

A sound from the rooftop drew Raek’s attention, and the bard quickly moved into the shadows, keeping himself in sight but unobtrusive, just a figure in the corner. He quickly pulled out his lyre and started playing, making himself out to be a servant simply adding to the room’s ambience. Yes, this was a disheveled dwelling, but with the fine tapestries and the care taken to bring Raek here, there was a chance that this was just a meeting ground rather than any indication of the status of his host. As such, he decided to play the part of a personal bard, trying to relax the guard of any other intruders who might have more information for the gypsy to pick up. After a few minutes of playing the strings on his lyre, Raek slowly began to sing, a soft lullaby filling the small room and soothing those within, helping them to relax. And as he played, he listened, to pick up any information that the others might have.

SPOILER: Click to show

1) Bluff (v. Sense Motive, all four get their own check; +7 to check) – Bluffing to make them think I’m unobtrusive, just a background servant.
2) Listen (no check bonus)
3) Perform (Singing) and Perform (String Instrument)

[Deleted]

Derkethus rushed through the streets as he headed towards the address on the card. It shouldn’t be that hard to find right? The address WAS right there. Plus Derkethus had lived in this city long enough to find his way around. The Shaonti rushed by many people, even pushing some of them out of the way. He was a man on a mission. Nothing had ever put such a fire in him. Derkethus pushed a man out of the way and into another person carrying fruit, spilling it all over the road. Sure enough people rushed it and tried to take as much as they could. Derkethus’s mind was all about one thing right now. His sister. If this person who sent the note would allow him to get back at the murderous bastard that took her life, he would go to the pits of hell to see this man punished. Preferably by his own hand.

Derkethus stopped outside the building that the address had lead him too. Honestly, he did not know what to expect when going in so the man drew his club just to be safe. He touched the spot of his armor where his necklace rested below, then rushed towards the door. Without so much as a knock he rushed into the door with club in hand, and with a push he opened it and stepped in. The Shaonti quickly looked around and noticed the others. A orc, a Halfling, and a human like Derkethus. The Shaonti looked at them then held up the card. ”Did one of you send this?” he asked them as he looked at them. These might have been the others that were said on the card. But at the same time this could have been a trap.

"Or...are you the others said on this card?" Derkethus asked as he began to lower his club. "What...do you know of Gaedran?" Derkethus asked as he looked at each one of them. Sure, maybe he was being a little to threatening but Derkethus just met them under some really odd circumstances. The man also noticed the basket with a bottle of wine in it.

[Hokori Kuchiki]

OOC: Right now i'm really REALLY busy with school and RL stuff.. Skip me, pretend i entered the room but have not spoken. If anyone decides to speak to William i'll try to crank out a short post the next time it is my turn my apologies.

[Kyomei Kuchiki]

When the halfling dropped into the room, there was already someone sitting there, playing an instrument of some sort. After Olo had looked at the tapestries and taken a bite of slightly stale bread, a giant walked in. Olo hadn't seen many of Jamlamin's kind, and being like a dog in comparison to the massive figure that shadowed the doorway. The minstrel in the corner of the room was forgotten as Olo quickly washed down the lump of bread with a swig of wine, a warm color rushing to his cheeks, more out of fear than actual intoxication. The wine was fairly weak, after all. "Olo. Olo Bramble, at your service." There was a small commotion as the halfling talked, and a human stumbled into the room, obviously very worked up. "Did one of you send this?"

He held up a card much like the one that Olo had received, except his was the Harrow of Marriage instead of the Cricket. Recovering from his shock at seeing the giant Jamlamin, Olo spoke up rather quickly. He was used to dealing with humans, often conning them out of their money with some tricks of the eye. His hands were exceptionally nimble, after all. Looking like he was about to throw something at Derkethus, instead using some slight of hand the card ended up behind his ear. He gestured to his hands and his sleeves, showing nothing up them, then drew his hand to his ear and pulled forth the Harrow of the Cricket. With a flick of his wrist, it appeared as though he threw it to the floor, however it ended up in his sleeve instead. Standing up and walking towards Derkethus and, with a little misdirection with a snap of his fingers, relieved him of his Harrow card, which ended up in his pocket, alongside the Cricket. Drawing both of the cards from his pocket, he returned the Marriage card to the human with another deft slight of hand trick, which returned the card to Derkethus' pocket without so much as a snag. As another human slipped in wordlessly, Olo left him alone, as he was not addressed. Too many times in his childhood speaking without being spoken to had been a serious issue.

[Zieg Revolver]

The orc leapt to his feet, nearly knocking over the table as it shuddered and rocked from his sudden movement, growling a fierce, throaty, challenge to the red skin that entered the room unexpectedly. He recognized the Shaonti for what he was right away, any orc could spot a Shaonti from a mile away. Now of course, while being a half orc, Jamalamin was not apart of the war between the two races but he was a result of it never the less. The rivalry between the two races were instinctual and naturally in the blood of the orc at least. Seeing the club in the Shaonti's hand, the orc responded with drawing his battle ax, keeping it down down at his side as he approached the Shaonti so they stood mere feet apart. Although probably intimidating to the others, Derkethus was nothing compared to the size and fierce looks of the half-orc. Being nearly 8 feet tall, he easily towered over him and, especially with his armor, was easily double the width of the Shaonti as well. It was a natural hatred but not enough for Jamalamin to forget why he was here. Seeing the card the Shaonti was presenting, he realized he too was summoned to this place as Jamalamin still had his card in his free hand. He snorted as he examined the Shaonti, sizing him up.

"Raugz Kambs" Jamalamin grunted, snorting out of his nostrils loudly like a bull, before he turned back around and approached the table again. If any of the others could understand orc, Jamlamin had just called Derkethus Red Legs. Red Legs was a title of those who ran from the battlefield, trudging through the fallen bodies of their comrades and staining his legs with his blood. Basically red skinned coward. Hearing the question of their connection to Gaedran. He stopped dead in his tracks as his teeth were bared in a snarl, turning his head only to look back at the Shaonti over his shoulder. "Gaedran..." he growled lowly, but yet fiercley, sheathing his axe as he began undoing his armor. Eventually, after getting his plate armor and equipment off, his top half would be exposed and a brutal sight would be seen. Not dozens, but hundreds of scars coated the entire upper half of Jamlamin's body, alot of them looking like the results of whips. This was just a taste of the physical torture Gaedran's men had done to him when he was younger. "Gaedran..." He repeated, thumbing his back to indicate that was a result of the slaver The others would get a clear view of his scars for a few moments before he reequipped himself fully and took his seat back at the table.

[Zeich Yajuu]

Raek listened to the exchanges between the other individuals who showed up, mentally taking notes even as he continued to play his lyre. The bard’s disguise had worked quite nicely, thanks to an old Varasian saying he kept in mind: “Don’t change color to match the walls; act like you belong, and the walls will change color to match you.” All he had to do was remain unnoticeable, just playing his instrument and letting his ears do all the work that his eyes or mouth would not be able to accomplish in the course of his disguise. This was not a hard task, especially for a gypsy like Raek, who was accustomed to keeping his head down when intolerant bigots went on another witchhunt.

So far, Raek had picked up a few things from the individuals. The first was that an individual had contacted each of them, rather than Raek specifically, in order to speak with them about Gaedran. Each of them seemed to have some past with the man as well, judging by the scars on the half-orc’s back. Raek knew his relation to Gaedran, and understood that this half-breed had his own interaction with the man; if that was the case, then it was likely that each of the members gathered together in order to deal with the slaver. If this was the case then at least they had something in common. However, that alone was not enough to convince Raek that the others were worth trusting yet. The gypsy just continued to play, keeping the guise of a simple entertainer for a while yet. There was no need to speak up, not until he was sure of the worth of each of the other individuals gathered.