For you with cards (no card you are not done making character)

[bloodsprite]

After a pain-full surprise in the morning (one non-leathal as part of your morning rituals) a harrow card is noticeably present and on examining it on the back of it is wrote:
"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. I am picking a party to weed him out! Gaedren must face his fate, and justice must be done."

Example Painful surprises to weave into your story of finding the cardThe wizard when finishing preparing their spells drops their spell book when they get a paper cut and a Harrow card falls out.

The Fighter when doing their morning stretch slips on a card and stubs a toe.

The Oracle has a vision about a card that startles them out of meditation and fall back bumping their head in surprise on the wall behind them when they see the card sitting in front of them.

The interior of this small, humble home consists of a single cozy chamber filled with a fragrant haze of flowers and strong spice. The aroma comes from several sticks of incense smoldering in wall-mounted burners that look like butterfly-winged elves. The smoke gives the room a dreamy feel. The walls are draped with brocaded tapestries, one showing a black-skulled beast juggling human hearts, and 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, holding a flaming sword 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 throw cloth and several elegant, tall-backed chairs. A basket covered by blue cloth sits under the table.

In the BasketOn examining the basket you find mushrooms, creamy dip and bottles of cheep wine.

The Mushrooms are delicious and heal 1 point of damage and fill your stomach, the wine is over sweet and a bit watery, but it will get you drunk if you drink enough , and there is plenty.

This is a place to play test you characters and develop their personality / how your party dynamic will work out until and if you are picked by Zellara,

Find your voice


Final Characters yet to be Chosen, this is just to have fun while waiting

Random Encounters
The following charts give a rough idea of what sort of 
random encounters a party might encounter in various 
parts of Korvosa and its surroundings. 
City Streets1
d% Encounter Avg EL
01–02 Important person (noble or royal) —
03–05 Important person (arbiter or magistrate) —
06–10 Peasants blocking path —
11–20 Pushy vendor —
21–30 Pickpocket (rog 1; Sleight of Hand +7) 1
31–40 Bar brawl spreads to street (2d6 commoner 1) 4
41–50 1d3 thugs 4
51–60 1d3 Hellknights (ftr 4) 6
61–80 2d4 Korvosan Guards 7
81–00 1d3 Sable Company elite marines 7
1 All areas except slums (see Slums chart), Acadamae, Castle 
Korvosa, Citadel Crest ward, and Gray District; 10% chance 
of encounter 1/day.
Slums1
d% Encounter Avg EL
01–09 Beggar —
10–25 Peasants blocking path —
26–30 Robbery in progress (1d4 thugs) — or 5
31–40 Pickpocket (rog 1; Sleight of Hand +7) 1
41–50 1d3 stirges 1
51–60 1 rat swarm 2
61–70 2d4 shingle spiders) 3
 (Small monstrous spiders
71–90 1d4 thugs 5
91–99 2d4 Korvosan Guards 7
00 1d4 Hellknights (ftr 4) 7
1 Bridgefront, Garrison Hill, Old Dock, West Dock; 30% 
chance of encounter 3/day.

 

Edited April 22 by bloodsprite (see edit history)

[Starhawk]

Stella Sucredes

"Fighting the darkness of my fallen angel heritage and taking it one day at a time."

Theme: Oh for a muse of fire

AC 12/(  ) HP 8/8 Init 2 Fort 2 Ref 2 Will 4

Female LN Aasimar Wizard - Conjurer - Chronomancer,

Level 1 Init 2 HP 8/8 Speed 30'  
AC 12 Touch 12 F-F 10 CMD 11 Fort 4 Ref 4 Will 6 CMB -1 BAB 0  Special DR5 Cold, Electricity and Acid
*Dagger -1 (1d4-1, 19-20/x2)  (+2 Dex)
Str 8 Dex 14 Con 12 Int 20 Wis 14 Cha 16

Arcane Duelist 5/5 +1 to DC or +2 vs SR or +2 to hit

Shift 8/8 (Swift Action no AOO) 5' Dimension Door 

Temporal Pool 6/6pts
* Forewarned: 1 pt Add 1d4 to initiative (self or 30' ally)

* Rewind: Immediate Action unsuccessful spell from failed concentration, successful save, failed SR contest etc spend 1/2 spell level in pts to regain spell in memory (not components or action)..

Spells

0 (All) currently in memory Detect Magic, Acid Splash, Dancing Lights.

1st (4) Color Spray, Crafter's Fortune, Ears of the City, Feather Fall, Grease, Mage Armor, Magic Missile [opposition], Secluded Grimoire,

Alchemical Items

Acid Flask (1) = Alchemical Focus

Alchemist's Fire (4/4)

Weapon Blanch (Silver) (2/2)

Weapon Blanch (Cold Iron) (1)

Condition None

 

Phae, love of my life, was sitting in the chaise longue facing the third floor balcony window. He wasn't looking out though. He had his feet in a large bowl of water, where tiny fish were stripping dead skin from near his heels. He was reading Zintaphel aloud, whose latest massive tome on pushing the boundaries of alchemical enquiry had just arrived. I, on the other hand was lying down, his thighs a cushion for the side of my head, looking out the window, his hand in mine. It was, I suppose, the very picture of marital bliss. Unusually for a couple taking their ease in their own home, we were both very well dressed, Phaeton's socks, washed that morning, were folded on the adjoining table, smelling faintly of lavender. We'd vowed, following our degradation, to always be sartorially elegant and lightly perfumed. We'd had enough foulness, from our period of addiction, to last two lifetimes. Besides, Anais, Phaeton's harpy of a mother might show up unexpectedly, as was her wont, hoping to catch us in a state of dishevelment. The court's judgement was that if we kept our noses, and everything else for that matter, clean for a year, that Anais would have to return our little girl, Celeste, to us. Across the circle, Gemshare Jewellers, the brothers Fontaine, were showing off jewellery to Lord and Lady Vereen, while a trio of musicians played music, almost as if it were for us alone. I found myself humming along quietly to it. Dorian Fontaine, the elder of the two, turned to the window and grinned broadly. I judged a lucrative sale was headed his way. If so, we'd likely be invited to a bit of a knees up later on.

Phae paused in his reading, stroked my hair once, then turned the page. A card dropped out, bounced off my forehead and lodged itself in my cleavage. "Want me to get that for you?", enquired Phae, his voice taking on a deeper, even slightly menacing tone. "Ah, yes please.", I replied, my usual response to that tone from him.

The card was duly recovered.

"What's this?" he asked a moment later, his tone, rather disappointingly, returning to normal. "If you don't know an invitation when you hear one, you're getting old." I returned, not willing to dispense with the sauce quite so soon. He laughed out loud. "Saucy wench.." I was expecting, more of the same, but got silence instead. I turned my head to look up at his face and both nostrils. I'd seen him with a grimmer expression, but not often. He duly passed the card down to me and after taking in the image on one side, I turned it over and read what was written there.

I daresay my expression was as grim as his.

"I recall you saying you wanted his head on a platter, the rest of him pickled in jars.", murmured Phae, determined to not look back into our past.

"And I meant it, still do...", I whispered back. The topic at hand was a matter of some small contention between us. I wanted revenge and was willing to gamble to get it. Phae was simply happy things were on the up and up. He certainly did not want to go stirring up old ghosts.

"We can't both go.", he reminded me, his voice soft. Closing down the shop, both of us disappearing for goodness knows how long. We'd lose Celeste for good.

"If the judgement goes against us, we wrest our angel from the harpy and sail for Absalom.", I replied, signalling my resolve on the matter.

"We'd have to start over.", he countered, laying out a pitfall.

"We can do that.", I replied in turn, letting him hear my need for this.

There was quite the gap while Phae considered, hand stroking my head. Curiously, Dorian all the way across the circle had stopped grinning, somehow sensing the change in mood despite the distance.

"Go then, but be careful... Gaedran's memory, and determination to tie up loose ends is every bit as determined as yours."

We spent that night as if it were our last night. I was walking into danger and we both knew it. Neither of us spoke about it.. not wanting to give voice to our fears, not wanting to 'jinx' it.

 

---

 

Looking at the building with the address on the card, Stella couldn't help but raise an ebon eyebrow in surprise. A mature gentleman walked past, his stride faltering as he caught sight of her irridescent pupils and pale skin set against her ebon hair and eyebrows, one of which was raised. She flashed a reflexive glittering smile his way. Taken by surprise the gentleman couldn't decide how to respond. His legs, having missed the memo, continued onwards as he turned his head to look back at her... then walked straight into a street stall... an impromptu and rapidly expanding distribution of knick knacks duly ensued.

Stella, one of Schadenfreude's bestest of friends, smirked at this.

Still..

A plot to unseat, not to mention unhead, a notorious gangster written on a lace doily of a house was not what she'd been expecting. Looking at the place the words that came to mind were herbal tea, laxatives, sticky buns and windchimes, when she'd been expecting masks, hidden daggers, venom and with the odd 'head in a box' thrown in for good measure.

"That's a friggin' good disguise", she muttered to herself, under her breath since she never swore, entirely unwilling to let outward appearances derail her desire for blood.

On that note, she stepped up to the door and let herself in, card in hand, then threw up in her mouth a little at the avalance of twee and kitsch that assailed her senses. Gods Grandma, you could've shown a little restraint.

 

Edited April 22 by Starhawk (see edit history)

[MrNeech]

Running a bar had seemed like a fine idea when he'd had it. People like to drink, after all, and when they drink they talk - especially to the man with the drink. It was a way to keep tabs on what was going on in the city without having to snoop around and ask questions. If only someone had told him how much work it would be. Always something needing to be cleaned, when it isn't needing cleaning it's something needing stocking. Rags and bottles and kegs, oh my.

It's a keg concerning Dorian at the moment - his latest attempt at making mead to save a few coppers where it counts. He's rolling it out of place when he notices a piece of pasteboard that has somehow managed to find its way beneath the barrel.

"What?"

He leans down to pick it up, straightening only to smack his head squarely into a shelf, dislodging a rain of old bottles - during the attempt to dodge those he goes backward over another keg, winding up blinking at the ceiling as he tries to work out what just happened. Finally, Dorian's wits return enough that he's able to study the card, brow furrowing as he takes in the message on its reverse.

"Well. Someone has some explaining to do."

Straightening himself and the resulting mess, as best he can, Dorian locks up The Songstress and makes his way out into the city streets to discover just what this strange rendezvous is about.

---

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Statblock

Dorian Hart
Male CG (CN) Half-Elf Vigilante (Cabalist), Level 1, Init 6, HP 9/9, Speed 30'
AC 14, Touch 10, Flat-footed 14, CMD 13, Fort 1, Ref 2, Will 3, CMB +3, Base Attack Bonus 0
Disarm, Nonlethal, Reach, Trip Whip (-) +3 (1d3, x2)
Spiked Gauntlet (-) +3 (1d4, x2)
Trip Sickle (-) +3 (1d6, x2)
Chain Shirt (+4 Armor)
Abilities Str 16, Dex 11, Con 12, Int 16, Wis 12, Cha 14
Condition None
Low-Light Vision
Immune to magic sleep effects and get a +2 racial bonus on saving throws against enchantment spells and effects.
+2 trait bonus on all saving throws against charm and compulsion effects.

 

[Angelic Crux]

Emmelyn had long been in a habit of rising early. She preferred quiet over din, stillness over idle chatter. But more than that, she found the morning was the home of many of Shelyn's gifts. The pigments of sunrise. The call of West Dock's gulls. She had unshuttered the window, allowing a faint breeze to drift in as her hands worked. A piece of wire. A scrap of copper. And the vision to see what could come of dross.

It was second nature now. The gentle, but firm pinch of the fine tongs. The tap of hammer, and of chisel. And Her touch, upon those hands, guiding them. A lover's invisible touch...

And then, just as she tightened the shears, a flutter of movement from the open window. A gust, and the startling whirling appearance of a bird, that made her hand go astray. Shhhk. And the sting of a cut. Her eyes quick to check, holding her hand as the wind died down. It was minor. A little attention in the basin, but attention all the same. Her hands, after all, were the better servant to Her grace than Emmelyn's sermons in the square...

She had hardly considered the "bird" at all, by the time she returned, her hand washed and, for the moment, given a makeshift bandaging. A Harrow card sat upon her table, clear and tidy but for her tools and the little copper earring that now had an uneven wash of crimson upon it. The Wanderer. And... something on it?

Her eyes shifted over the message scribbled on the card, narrowing briefly at the mention of Gaedren. It was a name she felt familiar, and yet distant. Until it came to her. Lamm. And his fate. The edge of her ring seemed to gleam in the dim morning light, as she gazed at the card. Sunday. The day ruled by the sun's sovereign majesty.

She finished the last, brief snips on the earring before preparing to depart. It rested light in the pouch, as did the card that summoned her.

It was only a short trip north from Eoden's Walk. The scents and cries of the docks far enough as to be out of sight, but close enough any shipment made it easily and cheaply to the assortment of merchants. She tended to shy away from West Dock, when she could. Something about it conjured her back to poorer days, hungrier days, lonelier days. Her left hand clasped the right, trailing a slow circle against the comfort of her ring.

She found 3 Lancet Street easily enough. And knocked at the door. It was early yet.

 

 

[bloodsprite]

As Emmelyn stood before the door of 3 Lancet Street, she raised her hand to knock, her knuckles tapping gently against the aged wood. Just as she wondered what she should be doing next, a sudden breeze swept through the air, causing the door to sway slightly on its hinges. It was as if the very elements themselves conspired to welcome her.

With a soft creak, the door eased open, inviting Emmelyn into the humble abode beyond. The hinges protested faintly against their long disuse, yet the sound was not one of rejection but instead of invitation—a gentle whisper of hospitality.

As the door revealed the interior, Emmelyn's senses were immediately enveloped by a fragrant haze, a rich blend of flowers and spices that hung in the air like a comforting embrace. The scent, mingled with the ethereal smoke of incense, lent the room a dreamy atmosphere as if she had stepped into another realm entirely.

Tapestries adorned the walls, each telling its story in intricate detail. One depicted a black-skulled beast juggling human hearts, while another showed angels dancing atop a snow-blasted mountain. Yet the third tapestry drew her gaze—a tall, hooded figure shrouded in mist, holding aloft a flaming sword in a skeletal hand, its presence both eerie and intriguing.

The room exuded warmth and comfort despite the sparse furnishings—a wooden table draped in a vibrant red cloth and several elegant, tall-backed chairs. The colorful rugs across the floor added to the inviting atmosphere, beckoning Emmelyn further into the space.

Beneath the table, a basket covered in blue cloth caught her eye, Then noticing Stella standing there taking it in.

 

Emmelyn's heart swelled with anticipation as she looked over the threshold, feeling as though she had been welcomed not just by the house itself but by the unseen forces that dwelled within. With a step, she would embrace the promise of what lay ahead.

 

Note on a Harrow card on the  
BasketOn examining the basket you find mushrooms, creamy dip and bottles of cheep wine.

The Mushrooms are delicious and heal 1 point of damage and fill your stomach, the wine is over sweet and a bit watery, but it will get you drunk if you drink enough , and there is plenty.

 

Thank you for coming everyone. 

I had to step out for a bit, but shall return 

shortly. Please, make yourself at home. 

The basket under the table contains mushrooms, dip and 

drink for you all.

Get acquainted with your potential partners, I will be back soon.

Edited April 22 by bloodsprite (see edit history)

[DarkNetwerk]

 Selena Shardova

Selena lay in her plush bed and sighed. Ever since she had returned to Korvosa and her family's Cliffside manor from her convalescence at the sanitarium her parents had shuffled her off to, she barely saw her family. They continued to studiously avoid her, the only normal signs of life being the servants that flit into her room to clean up a vase she may have smashed in a fit of pique, or, that one time, the pile of shredded cloth, the remnants of a colorful outfit her parents tried to get her to wear. Sure, she used to wear colorful clothes like those, but that was before. Now she found the colors painful to look at, particularly the glittering sparkles of the fancy cloth when the light hit them. Instead, she always wore black, a stark contrast to her pale skin and white hair, another outcome of her unfortunate circumstance. Her rosy skin and blonde tresses were now bleached, either from the toxins that had coursed through her blood or from the gaze of the mad god during her drug-addled dream during the overdose. The dark clothes were soothing to her now, the oft-worn hood a way to keep the painful light from her eyes. They also served as a reminder of the shadow she no longer projected. Regardless of the light or the shadows made on her face and body from her billowy cloak and hood, the light appeared to pass through her, leaving no trace of any obstruction of the light source.

Her thoughts wandered, floating back some weeks to the fleeting glimpses of the street as her carriage returned her home. She wondered how she hadn't been able to see it before, but she now recognized the telltale signs of shiver on the people, particularly in the poorer districts, the hollowed eyes, expressions suggesting the world around them was bland and less real, and some shaking, happily in the throes of the drug. She had tried to talk to the Korvosan guard about the issue, particularly since she had a historical connection to a shiver dealer, but she was rebuffed and soon was yelled at by her father, demanding that she leave it alone, since her foolish inquiries could further harm the family, they felt their position was already precarious because of the shame her overdose had brought upon the family "and there was no way they could marry her off, now" they often exclaimed in their frustration. The only times she seemed to be able to see her parents these days was when they came to berate her for some perceived slight.

Selena sighed again and sat up. Perhaps I should practice, she mused. Learn more of what I can do with... whatever this is. She placed her hands in her lap, closed her eyes and slowed her breathing. She could feel the shadow-stuff coalesce around her spirit but also some connection to... that God from her vision... Groetus, she had later learned. Is this some accident that allows me to tap into His power, or am I marked as a harbringer of some doom? The End? She pulled herself away from those thoughts before she started to drown in the horror. It took her two days to recover from the last time she fell down that hole. Instead she focused on the present and the good she was able to do now... healing minor wounds, for example. Her mind settled again and she continued to gather the power around her. She had a flash, a vision, of a pale animal approaching, a horse? No... it's a unicorn! What does this mean? Before she could try to understand this strange vision, there was a loud crash and a piercing light lanced through her eyelids. Screaming in pain, she covered her eyes with her arm and rolled off the bed, hiding in its shadow. It seemed the rod, holding the plush dark curtains that she invariably kept closed, had snapped, allowing the morning light to pour into her room. She quickly gathered her power and with words, gestures, and a bit of soot, she gathered some of the shadows around her, protecting her from the light, at least for now. Opening her eyes, she focused on one of places where the sunlight did not touch. There was something there. She reached out and picked up a harrow card, showing a unicorn of all things. The vision and then the card? This can't be a coincidence, she thought as she examined the card. Her eyes widened at the words on the back of the card. She had just been thinking about her ill-fated attempts to deal with the shiver problem and that foul dealer. Perhaps there is a way!

"Milady? Is everything all right?" a voice cut through her elation as one of the servants entered her room worried she had another blowup.

"My curtains broke, Eugeni. Do you think you could fix them? I'll retire to the study," she said, elation filling her voice.

"Of course, milady," the Varisian servant said with a bow, "but might I suggest you retire to the spare bedroom? The Lord of the manor is currently entertaining guests there."

"Good idea. Thank you," Selena said with an excited smile as she rushed out of her room and down the hall to the extra room. She leaned against the door, giddy at the promise described on the card. Soon she was pacing the room, her exhilaration growing to an almost feverish level before thoughts intruded. What if this is some kind of joke? A lie to draw me in? Some plot to hurt me? Soon enough she was spiraling downwards and threw herself on the bed, burying her head in the pillows. The rest of her day was spent between eager pacing at the prospects or depressed repose, interspersed with calm tranquility and visits from the staff to bring her meals. After what seemed like an eternity, the diffused sunlight slipping through the curtains began to darken. The time was now approaching.

Selena gathered her things, unsure what might be needed, and slipped out the side door, the servants entrance, which was the only place she was allowed to enter and exit her home. With an excited skip to her step, she made her way through the Heights, making her way towards Midland, by the docks, and the address on the card. 3 Lancet Street, she said to herself, repeating it in her mind over and over again.

When she arrived on Lancet Street, Selena stared at the building in question. Rather than going directly to the small home, she walked past it on the other side of the street, keeping to the shadows as a matter of habit rather than caution. After walking past a few more homes, she turned and retraced her steps, again passing across the street from the goal. She paced nervously along this back and forth route three more times. She couldn't really keep her attention on the home but she did pass some people that may have gone inside... or they just passed it and went elsewhere while she wasn't paying attention. She stopped and rubbed her head and with a deep breath to gather her courage, started across the street to the entrance.

 

[parody]

In-Character

Derek's morning had started like any other, with the usual disciplined bustle of life at the Elgin Military Academy within the Great Tower. His modest barracks, a small but orderly space adorned with personal touches of his falconry heritage, were stark in the early light. The walls were lined with equipment – a neatly arranged array of weapons, his dark leather armor stamped with the Sable Company's emblem, and maps of Korvosa that hinted at countless patrols.

This morning, however, his routine was interrupted by an unexpected mishap. While sharpening his lance, a tool he handled with utmost care, it slipped - the blunt end smacking squarely against his shin. The pain was sharp and sudden, a stark reminder that even in the calm of morning, surprises lurked. Grimacing, he set the lance aside, rubbing his shin, annoyed at the lapse in his usually flawless routine.

As he prepared to leave the barracks, Derek noticed something unusual: a card, ornate and clearly out of place amidst his martial surroundings. Picking it up, he recognized it as a Harrow card - The Big Sky. His intrigue deepened as he turned it over to find a message scribbled on the back. The words struck a chord deep within him. "Gaedren must face his fate, and justice must be done." Gaedren... the name was vaguely familiar, a shadowy figure whispered about in the darker corners of Korvosa, often linked to the kind of vile deeds that the Korvosan Guard seemed all too willing to overlook.

Derek's jaw tightened as he read the message again. The Korvosan Guard's indifference and inaction had been a constant source of frustration in his search for Mira. The idea that someone out there not only shared his desire for justice but also had a lead on Gaedren kindled a flicker of hope in his weary heart. Who was this person at 3 Lancet Street? Who else had Gaedren wronged, and how?

As he pocketed the card, Derek made a decision. He would go to the meeting at sunset. Perhaps this was the break he needed, a chance to find allies in his quest, to learn more of Gaedren and his deeds. Maybe, just maybe, this path would lead him to Mira. With a resolute nod to himself, Derek began his preparations, his mind alight with possibilities and his spirit buoyed by the promise of action. Today could be the day everything changed.

Morning turned to afternoon, and the hours passed with the regular rhythm of disciplined life at the Elgin Military Academy. Derek kept himself busy, immersing himself in the rigors of training and his duties within the Great Tower. He drilled with the other marines, refining his combat techniques and honing his skills with the bow. His mind, though preoccupied with the mysterious message, remained focused on the tasks at hand.

After the training fields were cleared, Derek spent time maintaining his equipment. He methodically cleaned and repaired his leather armor, polished his boots, and sharpened his blades. The work was meditative, and he found some solace in the familiar motions and the scent of oiled leather.

In the quiet of the barracks, Derek pored over maps of Korvosa, tracing routes and marking points of interest - habitual work for a man always searching for something lost. Occasionally, his gaze would drift to the Harrow card that lay beside him, its presence a silent promise of potential leads and the faint hope of allies in his solitary quest.

As the afternoon waned, Derek prepared for his departure. He dressed in plain clothes, blending functionality with the need to pass unnoticed through the city’s diverse districts. His armor and weapons were carefully concealed beneath a dark cloak, the emblem of the Sable Company discreetly hidden. Derek was not one to draw attention to himself, and today discretion was paramount.

Exiting the Great Tower, Derek took the route leading down from Fort Korvosa, passing through the bustling streets as the city began its descent into evening. He walked briskly but with purpose, avoiding the main thoroughfares crowded with vendors and citizens. Instead, he chose the side alleys and lesser-known paths, the ones he had come to know well in his constant vigil over the city. His path took him down from Garrison Hill, across the North Bridge that spanned the Jeggare River, and into the heart of Midland.

The streets of Midland were familiar to Derek; he had walked them many times before, both in his official capacity and in search of Mira. The faces he passed were a blend of the hopeful and the harried, a reflection of the city itself. He moved through Five Corners, taking note of the shifting shadows as day gave way to dusk, and continued down towards West Dock.

Finally, Derek arrived at 3 Lancet Street as the last rays of sunlight kissed the horizon. The building before him was unassuming, its facade giving little away. But to Derek, it was the start of a new chapter, a chance to strike back against the darkness that had taken Mira from him. With a deep breath to steady his nerves and a final glance at the Harrow card, he stepped forward to meet his fate, whatever it may be.

 

Character Details

Character Stats

Derek Steelwind
Human ranger (sable company marine, urban ranger) 1
CG Medium humanoid (human)
Init +2; Senses Perception +6
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Defense
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AC 16, touch 12, flat-footed 14 (+4 armor, +2 Dex)
hp 12 (1d10+2)
Fort +4, Ref +4, Will +3
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Offense
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Speed 30 ft.
Melee lance +5 (1d8+6/×3)
Ranged shortbow +3 (1d6/×3)
Space 5 ft.; Reach 5 ft. (10 ft. with lance)
Special Attacks favored enemy (humans +2)
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Statistics
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Str 18, Dex 14, Con 14, Int 10, Wis 14, Cha 10
Base Atk +1; CMB +5; CMD 17
Feats Furious Focus[APG], Mounted Combat, Power Attack
Traits missing son or daughter
Skills Disable Device +2, Handle Animal +1, Intimidate +4, Knowledge (geography) +4, Knowledge (local) +4, Perception +6, Ride +4, Stealth +4, Survival +6, Swim +6
Languages Common
SQ track +1, wild empathy +1
Other Gear lamellar (leather) armor[UC], arrows (20), lance, shortbow, backpack, bedroll, belt pouch, flint and steel, hemp rope (50 ft.), mess kit[UE], pot, torch (10), trail rations (5), waterskin, 40 gp
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Special Abilities
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Favored Enemy (Humans +2) (Ex) +2 to rolls vs. humans foes.
Furious Focus If you are wielding a weapon in two hands, ignore the penalty for your first attack of each turn.
Mounted Combat (1/round) Once per round you can attempt to negate a hit to your mount in combat.
Power Attack -1/+2 You can subtract from your attack roll to add to your damage.
Track +1 Add the listed bonus to Survival checks made to track.
Wild Empathy +1 (Ex) Improve the attitude of an animal, as if using Diplomacy.

 

 

Edited April 22 by parody (see edit history)

[bloodsprite]

Those waiting on the outside feel free to narrative yourselves inside, I just wanted to add detail with the Harrow card note waiting inside, and took liberties to narrate one of the characters in so you had setting you could work off of. Add mysteriousness whimsy as wanted for dramatic effect, you will not step on my toes.

Edited April 22 by bloodsprite (see edit history)

[parody]

 

In-Character

The door creaked open to reveal the interior of 3 Lancet Street - a single, cozy chamber that immediately enveloped Derek in an aromatic haze. He paused for a moment, taking in the scents of flowers and piquant spices emanating from incense burners shaped like ethereal elven figures with butterfly wings. The smoke lent the room a surreal, dreamlike quality that seemed to soften the harsher edges of reality.

His eyes roamed over the chamber, noting the richly colored tapestries that adorned the walls. One depicted a chilling scene of a black-skulled beast with human hearts in its hands, while another contrasted it with angels dancing on a mountain peak touched by snow. The third was more somber, showing a tall, hooded figure with a flaming sword, a skeletal hand gripping the hilt - a silent sentinel in woven form.

The room was sparingly furnished, with only a wooden table covered in a bright red cloth, tall-backed chairs that spoke of elegance long past, and a basket concealed by a blue cloth tucked beneath the table. The vibrant rugs underfoot added a touch of warmth to the otherwise mysterious atmosphere.

Derek's attention shifted as he became aware of the others present in the room. Silhouettes of unknown allies or potential rivals, each likely drawn here by a need for justice or revenge. Their stories were yet untold, their faces obscured by the incense smoke that curled and danced through the air.

With a steadying breath, Derek stepped forward, his hand instinctively going to the Harrow card in his pocket - the object that served as his invitation to this clandestine gathering. He withdrew the card, holding it flat against his palm, concealed from prying eyes, yet its existence undeniable.

"Seems I'm not the only one to receive a cryptic summons," he said, his voice a low rumble in the quiet of the chamber. His gaze met each occupant in turn, seeking some sign of shared purpose. "I take it you've been called by the same promise of justice against Gaedren?" Derek asked, the question hanging in the air as he awaited their tales, wondering how their grievances intertwined with his own quest for answers and retribution.

 

Character Details

Character Stats

Derek Steelwind
Human ranger (sable company marine, urban ranger) 1
CG Medium humanoid (human)
Init +2; Senses Perception +6
--------------------
Defense
--------------------
AC 16, touch 12, flat-footed 14 (+4 armor, +2 Dex)
hp 12 (1d10+2)
Fort +4, Ref +4, Will +3
--------------------
Offense
--------------------
Speed 30 ft.
Melee lance +5 (1d8+6/×3)
Ranged shortbow +3 (1d6/×3)
Space 5 ft.; Reach 5 ft. (10 ft. with lance)
Special Attacks favored enemy (humans +2)
--------------------
Statistics
--------------------
Str 18, Dex 14, Con 14, Int 10, Wis 14, Cha 10
Base Atk +1; CMB +5; CMD 17
Feats Furious Focus[APG], Mounted Combat, Power Attack
Traits missing son or daughter
Skills Disable Device +2, Handle Animal +1, Intimidate +4, Knowledge (geography) +4, Knowledge (local) +4, Perception +6, Ride +4, Stealth +4, Survival +6, Swim +6
Languages Common
SQ track +1, wild empathy +1
Other Gear lamellar (leather) armor[UC], arrows (20), lance, shortbow, backpack, bedroll, belt pouch, flint and steel, hemp rope (50 ft.), mess kit[UE], pot, torch (10), trail rations (5), waterskin, 40 gp
--------------------
Special Abilities
--------------------
Favored Enemy (Humans +2) (Ex) +2 to rolls vs. humans foes.
Furious Focus If you are wielding a weapon in two hands, ignore the penalty for your first attack of each turn.
Mounted Combat (1/round) Once per round you can attempt to negate a hit to your mount in combat.
Power Attack -1/+2 You can subtract from your attack roll to add to your damage.
Track +1 Add the listed bonus to Survival checks made to track.
Wild Empathy +1 (Ex) Improve the attitude of an animal, as if using Diplomacy.

 

 

Edited April 22 by parody (see edit history)

[Trigun]

Theodor walked out of the Traveling Man, having just enjoyed a breakfast of some hot soup and bread. Now he was simply walking down Old Korvosa, following an admittedly flimsy lead, mostly that Gaedren Lamm operates in the area. "It's the only lead I've got. Well, it's like baba always said. After bad luck comes good fortune, and after good fortune comes bad luck." The young Varisian said to himself, careful to avoid his old haunts, especially his old home, where his family is. He had just returned to Old Korvosa yesterday after having spent weeks in South Shore, having hoped that the area would be prime with info on whoever took his baby sister from them. It had been hard for Theodor, since he did not have much experience outside Old Korvosa when he began his search. But his footwork and dancing skills were enough to get him room and board during the first few months.

 

The young Varisian was shaken out of his revelry as he felt something land on his right shoulder and looked over to see a pigeon resting there. On the bird's left leg was a tied up letter. "Hello, what's this? Is Desna smiling on me? And a Harrow card too. I haven't seen one in years. Not since... " He shook his head out of his reverie, and read the letter. "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. I am picking a party to weed him out! Gaedren must face his fate, and justice must be done."

 

"Wait a minute. The card is in perfect shape." Theodor noticed, looking at the Harrow card again and noticed it was the Cricket. Most people would think it was a coincidence. But he was born and raised Varisian, not to mention a devout follower of Desna, the Song of Spheres herself. Those who used the Harrow can read fate when sufficiently trained. The young Varisian had avoided it, his parents having taught him that only the gods should deal with fate. But he did remember another saying of his baba's. "There are such things as false truths and honest lies. Maybe it's time I visited a Harrower. I sure could use some guidance." As he walked away, he suddenly smelled something disgusting and smelly. Looking over his shoulder, Theodor found the pigeon gone, after having used him as a public loo.

---

Standing outside the house at 3 Lancet Street, Theodor gave a quick look around. The outside seemed empty of people, yet having grown up in Old Korvosa, he knew that wasn't the case. Still, he took a step forward and knocked on the door. It suddenly opened as if a breeze blew it for him and the young Varisian walked into the house. The smell that came to him was fragrant, nostalgic of the times he visited his aunts and uncles, letting himself momentarily drift into memories of his childhood, around his family, happier times. Yet he couldn't linger in the smells from the incense burners, not if he wasn't the only one to arrive here.

 

Opening his eyes, he scanned around the room, noticing the tapestries hanging from the walls. The figures on the tapestries, the young Varisian believed were the depictions from the Harrow cards. The room itself look sparse with only a wooden table covered in a bright red cloth, tall-backed chairs which he had seen used by Harrowers before and a basket concealed by a blue cloth tucked beneath the table. The vibrant rugs underfoot added a touch of warmth to the otherwise mysterious atmosphere, which simply brought a smile to his face. Theodor was also aware that there were others in the room, having arrived as a low rumble from a short haired man spoke.

 

"Greetings stranger, from a stranger! It seems Gaedren Lamm has finally overdone his villainy and brought upon himself some comeuppance. That said, apologies doamnelor si domnilor, who sent our invitations? May I hazard a guess that each of you received a Harrow card? For it is a card from a Harrow deck which I was given as well. The Cricket chirps and bounces around after all." He said in a long introduction ending with a simple question of if the others had received a Harrow card and what it was.

Edited April 22 by Trigun (see edit history)

[Gspawn]

Dante Hellfire: Vengeful Hunter (Fighter 1) (Up for review)
"Vengeance is the justice to those who have been harmed by a crime witch our system is blind to or chooses not to seek!"

Character Sheet











 

In Character 

Dante Finishing up his morning stretches in the what would be his home for at least one more year in Old Korvosa after his Parents decide to leave it to him with the taxes paid and headed off to the new life within the last 24 hours of their debatable good or bad discussion on the subject. He returns to his room seeing somehow a Tarot Card and a letter shown upon his bed. he recognizes "The Keep" card.

"So someone wants my attention?" He thought as he reads the letter to himself. He reflects on his one bad decision in life that lead him down to Shit's ville. Not only he was wronged but clearly more then just himself. As he is changing his clothing showing the upper half of a small 6 pack of abs he has been slowly developing. Packing his Casual clothes and his other gear. He opens up a closet with his hanging his suit and hat.

"Sounds like a party, hate to go not looking my best. Especially a revenge party. Wonder who else be showing up?" Dante said to himself suiting up. With his masterwork Backpack, his bow and arrows On his back. Folding his Cestus in his pocket and wrapping his whip around his shoulder like a bag. He heads out locking every door and window.


Taking a two hour stroll to 3 Lancet street was not hard to find. With a knock at the door and some commotion he opens the door slowly. Looking around the faces he has not seen before. Almost feeling out of place. Pulling out of his pocket His Tarot Card and looked at everyone around. "I suppose this is how we know we all got invited to this get together now huh?" Dante replied walking in a bit further and closing the door behind him. Tipping his hat to the folks



 

 

Edited April 22 by Gspawn (see edit history)

[Angelic Crux]

To some, perhaps more apt to visit a dancer for glimpses of futures yet to be, the accoutrements would be familiar: dried flowers, fragrant herbs, bundled and hanging, and the slow, lazy waft of incense, winding heaven-ward. A fortune-teller's abode, or at least, the chambers of one who wished to evoke all the familiar mystery of the Varisians. To Emmelyn, though, one whose life had wound from the want of a streetling to the abstemiousness of craftswoman, it echoed of other things. To step, briefly, beyond the world and into the antechamber of Nirvana. To huddle at the locked door of her Mother-of-Beauties, work still to be done.

If she had been alone, she would have lingered on those tapestries no doubt. They called to her, in their own way, as any work of art did. A reflection of the divine, and worthy of her meditations. Yet, it was not the beastly juggler or the deathless, hooded judge that drew her sharpest attention, nor even the circle of angels at the highest peak, but another angel entirely.

The hedge wizard's wife. Phaeton's wife.

She was not the only one there, but some part of her knew, knew in her heart, that this was not a call solely for her. Perhaps because she was not ready to stand alone and apart from the choir yet, but perhaps because she was not one who could overcome Lamm, decrepit though he must have been, by herself. And yet, and yet...

Phaeton's wife. One part of a trinity of domestic bliss. A reminder that difference did not have to mean lesserness, or solitude. It had lingered with her, in her bitterness, her isolation, before all that had been filled by Shelyn. Why there were those who had love, fulfillment, happiness... and why there were those who didn't.

She didn't say anything. Not with the guardsman already beginning to piece together their collective purpose. But she was a creature who, though no slave to mere habit and formality, had a deep sense of the place of things. She shifted in her place to be beside the familiar, with her iridescence, her otherworldliness, her poise. Once, mere candle to the blaze of a hearth, she would have felt a bitterness. No more, no more... Shelyn knew. Shelyn saw.

And yet, after a long moment of silence that betrayed more nerves than placidity, she leaned close enough to whisper to the heaven-touched one.

"...you knew Lamm?" A whisper whose curiousness was tempered by the hush in her voice, so as not to interrupt the others as they grew acquainted.

[Starhawk]

Stella Sucredes

"Fighting the darkness of my fallen angel heritage and taking it one day at a time."

Theme: Oh for a muse of fire

AC 12/(  ) HP 8/8 Init 2 Fort 2 Ref 2 Will 4

Female LN Aasimar Wizard - Conjurer - Chronomancer,

Level 1 Init 2 HP 8/8 Speed 30'  
AC 12 Touch 12 F-F 10 CMD 11 Fort 4 Ref 4 Will 6 CMB -1 BAB 0  Special DR5 Cold, Electricity and Acid
*Dagger -1 (1d4-1, 19-20/x2)  (+2 Dex)
Str 8 Dex 14 Con 12 Int 20 Wis 14 Cha 16

Arcane Duelist 5/5 +1 to DC or +2 vs SR or +2 to hit

Shift 8/8 (Swift Action no AOO) 5' Dimension Door 

Temporal Pool 6/6pts
* Forewarned: 1 pt Add 1d4 to initiative (self or 30' ally)

* Rewind: Immediate Action unsuccessful spell from failed concentration, successful save, failed SR contest etc spend 1/2 spell level in pts to regain spell in memory (not components or action)..

Spells

0 (All) currently in memory Detect Magic, Acid Splash, Dancing Lights.

1st (4) Color Spray, Crafter's Fortune, Ears of the City, Feather Fall, Grease, Mage Armor, Magic Missile [opposition], Secluded Grimoire,

Alchemical Items

Acid Flask (1) = Alchemical Focus

Alchemist's Fire (4/4)

Weapon Blanch (Silver) (2/2)

Weapon Blanch (Cold Iron) (1)

Condition None

 

Stella read the note, murmured to herself "Off to get a decorator..", momentarily indulging in a cheap shot from the cheap seats. Whoever this was, she would doubtless find her own home to be spartan. In contrast to her home above the shop, this place would be impossible to keep clean. She wondered if anything was scuttling around in the rugs, in the dark spaces under the furniture.. her entomophobia whispering to her of chitin. She suppressed a desire to leave and get traps.

She was still thinking this when a short haired man walked in. He had the look of a guardsman, which considering she'd just let herself in was rather concerning. She was just about to gesture towards the note when the guardsman spoke about a cryptic summons. No explanation necessary.. what a relief.. not in the mood for handcuffs... right now, she thought to herself. "Perhaps someone's playing a game", she replies, holding up her harrow card, which while a card was no game.

Just then a gnome walked in and greeted one and all. How many are coming to this soiree?, she thought to herself. "I conjure the owner of this place, who might not be 'playing with a full deck' as a result. It has a certain fortune teller kitsch about it, no?", she replied in answer to the gnome's question, throwing in a quip for good measure.

And then another individual, armored like the guardsman, but clearly not a guardsman, walked in. The cards were coming thick and fast now. "Wonder when we break out the torches and pitchforks?", she murmurs.

Then Emmelyn, of all people, walked through the door. "Emmelyn!" she all but squeaks in delight, before stopping herself as Emmelyn got closer. She returns the whisper with a whisper of her own.. "Yes, I know the snake. I'm sorry you made his cursed acquaintance too.", the words heartfelt. That one who could make such beautiful things should have that monster in her past made her seethe. She fingered her earring, an Emmelyn creation and moved closer. It felt good to have an ally among strangers, it made everything easier.

Edited April 23 by Starhawk (see edit history)

[Penchant]

"Breathe, don't forget to breathe," her father's voice echoed in her mind. "Focus on the target. See past the arrow to where the arrow should be." Thaladria raised the bow up and then drew it as she brought it down. "Feel the wind, feel the pull of the Earth and feel your heart." She breathed and saw and felt and then releasing her breath she released the arrow. It flew down range and landed two inches outside of center. "Dammit," she muttered. Archery practice was... tradition. It was just something one did. But it was a good form of meditation and relaxation. There were so many distractions and things going on throughout the day that it was always a relief to take time and focus on something so simple. At least simple when her father was doing it. The man could bullseye a straw target nine times out of ten and then not even gloat about it. She drew another arrow and nocked it. She focused on her breathing again and drew the arrow striving to keeping the form perfect. As she released the arrow her wrist spasmed and the bowline scraped across her forearm. "Ah! Sonofa... pffffu* Ah that hurts!" A few of the other archers at the range snickered at the elf making a rookie move. She walked in a few circles trying to get the frustration out. With reluctance she bent down and pulled the wrist guard out of her bag. As she did, a card fell out. "What is this, a joke?" She turned the card over to see the Joke card staring up at her. She looked around to see which person was smirking but they were all concentrating on their targets. People don't play pranks like this without letting you know that it was they. She looked back down and flipped the card over again, noticing the writing for the first time. Was it there before?

The name Gaedren stood out. That bastard. She reread the card before tucking it into her corset. Licking her lips thoughtfully, she wondered what she would do but she was already unstringing her bow and packing her bag. She didn't even wait for a pause to be called to retrieve the target arrows. She stormed out of the range with a wind at her heels.

 

Later at Sunset...

 

The house looked innocuous. Not like the gathering place of some cabal. Still if it meant getting justice at the man that had wronged her, almost killed her, it would be worth any personal risk. In some way she was always fighting for justice of some sort but this was... it was personal. She strode in through the door without knocking. If it was to be a joke, then might as well face it boldly. Her elven eyes picked out the room quickly. She was not alone and by the look of the motley crew already there was no prank to be had. Some here knew each other while others milled about as clear strangers. She wasn't sure if she recognized anyone but the wine drew her eyes. Eyeing the note beside it, she drew herself a draught of it and looked about for conversation.

People chatted in hushed tones, polite whispers or simply stood about waiting for answers. It was too quiet, too... proper.

"There is wine, so I want to propose a toast! To Gaedrin! May he rot in a shallow grave with a stone atop for every sin and every harm he's caused! At toast to the mountain of Stones!" and she drained her glass, gauging the room to see how prim and proper it was. She disdained 'polite company'.

 

 

[Gspawn]

Dante Hellfire: Vengeful Hunter (Fighter 1) (Up for review)
"Vengeance is the justice to those who have been harmed by a crime witch our system is blind to or chooses not to seek!"

Character Sheet











 

In Character 

Dante looked around rather surprised at all the small hush conversation and clearly were all still thinking the very same question in the back of their minds... Along with his. "What did Lamm do to you that had you compelled to be here tonight?" It was not till the brash Elf who purposed a toast to his eventual fate. Looking around, Dante can see friends or acquaintances who have somewhat met. At least between the Ladies. A local man who looks like he should be working somewhere else. Then seeing a somewhat of a guard if not a mercenary man ask that very question. Answering the man in his Armor Open and not hiding his view being open to all the patrons in the room could hear. "Well Depends on your definition of justice. Though it does not take a scholar of the mind to see Lamm get what's coming to him. Though to what extent maybe conflicting. However I think everyone can agree He earned at the very minimum an un-marked grave, if not a cremation" Dante Voiced.

When The elven woman purposed a toast Dante looks at her with crossed arms leaning on the side of a wall. "I'll have that drink when the man is face first descending into the proper circle of hell to witch he earned" Dante said openly and unapologetic-ally. Reading the rest of the room to what they think of the words spoken or of himself.