This fanfiction story is based on Paizo's Curse of the Crimson Throne adventure path and revolves around the character I created for this campaign named Talindra Bari, a priestess of the Goddess of Sarenrae. I was going to have the story be based on the players' interaction with the adventure, but the campaign is on hold and I don't think we'll ever come back to it, so I'll have to create the story by myself I guess. If there is enough interest and feedback on this, it will encourage me to write further chapters.
This is version 1.2. Hopefully most of the mistakes have been taken cared of.
INTRODUCTIONS
Waking up at sunrise like she always does, Talindra prepares herself for another routine day at the Temple of Sarenrae. Last month when she reached her 20th birthday, the church promoted her to the rank of priest for her devotion to the faith. Even though she is proud of her new title, her daily duties haven't really changed much. She still performs the same mundane tasks around the temple like she always has when she was an acolyte, but now, she also assists the senior priests with the morning and evening prayers that draw a substantial crowd everyday.
Most of the people that attend the church's sermons come looking for guidance and insight in their lives. Others come seeking redemption. She feels it is her duty to make anyone asking for help at the Temple of Sarenrae feel welcome, regardless of what they done in their past. She understands the need for redemption, as her own soul once needed to be rescued from a miserable existence, and a priest of Sarenrae saved her when she needed help the most. That priest later became her mentor as well as a good friend. That happened 8 years ago when she was a child.
She finishes putting on her white ceremonial robes that are embroidered with red and gold thread depicting images of the sun, and slips on her brown sandals for the morning mass. She wipes the olive skin on her face one last time with a damp washcloth and then brushes the remaining tangles from her long scarlet hair. Satisfied that she looks presentable for the public, she leaves her quarters and checks her drop box located on the wall just outside her door.
Instead of finding it empty like she normally does, she retrieves a slightly worn Harrow card bearing the symbol of the midwife with something written on the back of it. Intrigued, she holds the card closer to her face, allowing her grey eyes to read the scribbled words upon on it. "I know what Gaedren has done to you. He has wronged me as well. I know where he dwells, yet cannot strike 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. (1)"
Her eyebrows furl in anger.
Gaedren, that bastard! Is he trying to mess up my life again? Is this some kind a prank?
She quickly scans her surroundings as if to catch the culprit who left the card, but she only sees a pair of acolytes standing near the main altar in the open-air part of the temple talking to each other.
She calms herself down and ponders for a moment.
Hmmm, I'm not sure what this is about and who is behind this summons, but if someone has a way to bring Gaedren to justice, I cannot let this opportunity pass me by. I hope my curiosity doesn't get me into too much trouble this time around.
She chuckles quietly to herself.
Though Lancet Street isn't in a bad part of the city, I should go prepared. I better tell Garion that I will not be able to help him with the evening prayers. He'll understand that I need to see where this card leads me. He knows about my past with Gaedren and how that man used me to his own ends. Praise Sarenrae that he saved me from that malefactor! I don't know what would have become of me if he didn't! That's a lie. I do know. I would be dead by now!
She tucks the Harrow card in her right pocket and briskly walks to Garion's quarters.
------CoCT - CW-----
A cool, late-spring breeze blows through the city of Korvosa as Talindra arrives at her destination and walks up the stone steps to a wooden door of a small, modest, one-story house. The house looks to be well-maintained and has a genial feel about it. The last rays of light from the setting sun glisten off her silvery chain shirt armor, highlighting its engraved decorative markings. Her silver, ankh-shaped holy symbol of Sarenrae shines brightly in the dimming sunlight as it hangs from a simple, yet sturdy necklace around her neck down to her chest. A seal-brown pair of pants and boots finishes her attire along with a matching set of leather bracers that cover most of her lower arms. The bracers have a segmented, earthworm appearance to them from the way their seams are stitched together. A scimitar hangs from her weapon belt on her left hip while a dagger is fastened to her right.
She double-checks her scimitar to make sure that it is ready for action if needed and then she lightly taps on the door three times. "I hope this is not a trap," she says to herself quietly. After a few moments, the door opens halfway, but she sees no one standing behind it. Slightly baffled, she runs her right hand quickly through her long, parted hair nervously. "Hello? Is anyone home?" No response. Letting her curiosity take control, she pushes the door open and enters the house.
Taking a few steps inside, she enters a small, dimly-lit chamber that is filled with a fragrant haze of flowers and spices that give the room a soft, dream-like feel. The haze is fueled by several wall-mounted incense burners, shaped like butterfly-winged elves. The walls are draped with 3 brocaded tapestries--one showing a black-skulled beast juggling men's hearts, another displaying a pair of angels dancing atop a snow-blasted mountain, and the last one portraying a tall hooded figure shrouded in mist holding a flaming sword in its skeletal hand. Surrounded by five tall-backed chairs, a large circular wooden table that is covered by a lustrous red throwcloth rests in the center of the room. A basket covered by a blue cloth sits underneath it, while a handwritten paper note lies upon it. Several brightly-colored rugs cover the floor giving the chamber a cozy appearance. (1)
I feel like I just walked into a Harrow reading room. This explains the card I received earlier today. I wonder why a Harrow reader needs my help to bring Gaedren to justice.
She cautiously approaches the table so she can read the note lying upon it. As she reaches its edge, she notices an outline of a large figure standing in the shadows in one of the corners of the room. Startled, she takes a step back while her hand instinctively reaches for her scimitar.
A tall, muscular man steps into the candlelight revealing himself. He appears to be a warrior of some sort who looks to be in his late twenties or early thirties. He wears a worn, but well-maintained, suit of scale mail along with a longsword attached to a weapon belt at his waist. He is also carrying a morningstar and a large, heavy steel shield that are secured firmly to his back. His short, choppy black hair and matching short scruffy beard give his tanned white face a sinister appearance.
He looks at her with his piercing brown eyes and asks in an irritated tone, "Are you the host to this little shindig?"
"Umm, no, I am not," she says warily.
"Bah," he utters with disappointment. "Well, I wish he would hurry up then. This is cutting into my drinking time!"
"I'm sorry to hear that," she replies as she watches the warrior return to stand in the corner to which he came from. She relaxes a bit and removes her hand from the handle of her scimitar.
"If you are hungry or thirsty, there is some food and drink in that basket there."
"I am not, but thank you for telling me."
And thank you for hiding in the shadows so you could scare the crap out of me too!
Even though he doesn't appear to be a threat, she decides keeps an eye on him. She walks back up to the table to read the note lying upon it. Scribbled in the same handwriting as on the Harrow card she found earlier, it says, "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. (1)"
Interesting. Our unknown host is going to be late for his own meeting. I guess I have time to question the warrior to see if he knows what is going.
She faces the warrior and asks politely, "Do you know what this meeting is all about?"
"Nope," he retorts.
"Do you know anything about our host?"
"Nope. Do you?"
"No, I do not."
That wasn't helpful. He appears to be as clueless as I. Hmm, I wonder if he received a Harrow card telling him to come here too. Why don't you ask him instead of speculating!
She starts to query him again. "Umm, by chance did you receive a Harrow card asking you to be here?"
"Yup. Did you get one too?"
"Yes, I did. Which card did you…"
"Hello everyone!" interrupts an amiable, childlike voice from behind her.
She turns around quickly to see a small, lightly tanned male halfling stroll into the room from where the front door is. His short, fluffy brown hair bounces to the rhythm of his walk as his dark brown eyes survey the room with curiosity and wonder. His slim body is covered with a well-kept suit of leather armor and dark-blue pants. He wears a small leather backpack on his back and a weapon belt around his waist where a shortsword and dagger hang at his sides. As with all halflings, he is not wearing any shoes, which allows anyone to see the massive patches of hair sprouting from the top of his feet. She notices that his grooming habits appear to be much better than that of the warrior.
"What an interesting looking place we have here," says the halfling with a smile across his child-looking face. His gaze focuses on Talindra and the warrior. "Are either of you the one that has asked for me to be here?"
"No, we are not," responds Talindra.
"Oh, I wonder where our host is then?," he says with a concerned look on his face as he walks up to the table near Talindra and lifts himself up to see if anything is on top it. Noticing the note, he grabs it and lowers himself back down to the floor so he can read it. After a short pause, he says, "It looks like our host stepped out for a moment. Ah, he left us some bread and drink to eat in the meantime. That's very nice of him."
He places the note back where he found it and then moves to the basket sitting underneath the table. He pulls back the blanket covering it so he can examine its contents with a scrutinizing eye. A moment later he scoops out a small wine bottle, removing the cork. He takes a long whiff from the open container, which causes his tiny nose to twitch a few times from the aroma. Pleased with the smell, he takes a quick sip and saviors the taste in his mouth for a few seconds before swallowing. He says aloud as if talking to himself, "Definitely wine. Not the best, but good enough to share with friends." He takes another sip before twisting the cork back into place.
He reaches into the basket again and pulls out a round loaf of bread. He tucks the bread and wine bottle in one arm and approaches the warrior. He extends his hand in greeting and says cheerfully, "Hello, my name is Xaveak."
The warrior ignores his outstretched hand and says harshly, "I'm Strum Drak. Make sure you keep your hands away from my stuff!"
Xaveak looks appalled for a moment as if to say something, but he decides not too. He shrugs off the man's rudeness and walks up to Talindra. Again, he holds out his hand in greeting and says cheerfully, "Hello, my name is Xaveak."
Talindra returns his greetings and says in a friendly, but guarded voice, "Hello, my name is Talindra Barí."
"It's nice to meet you. Would you like some bread or wine?"
"No, thank you."
"Very well, that leaves more for me," he smiles happily.
Xaveak saunters back to the basket and starts rummaging through it. He takes a couple more loaves of bread and wine bottles from the basket and places them into a large sack that is tied to his backpack, but leaves the ones he is already cradling in his arm alone. Satisfied that it has been thoroughly searched, Xaveak hops onto one of the chairs and sits down. With his free hand, he pulls out a napkin from one of the many pouches on his belt, unfolds it gently, and delicately lays it on the table in front of him with the bread he is carrying placed on top of it. He then removes the cork from wine bottle and takes a quick swallow before placing it on the table next to his bread. Several minutes of awkward silence pass as Talindra and Strum watch the halfling nibble on his meal.
The silence is interrupted when a tall, slender man wearing a dark grey, hooded cloak walks cautiously in by way of the front door. The hood of his cloak is up, concealing all but the lower portion of his face in the dim candlelight. For what can be seen of his face, the man has fair white skin with no facial hair, and his features seemed more refined and graceful than that of a typical man. Besides his cloak, he wears a leather jerkin along with a pair of brown pants and dark grey boots. A longsword hangs from his weapon belt, while a shortbow and 2 quivers are strapped to his back. Any other weapons that he may be carrying are concealed underneath his cloak that is loosely wrapped around his body. As Talindra examines him more closely, she intuitively feels that he is hiding something more important than just his pretty looks.
Xaveak hops down from his chair and approaches the latest arrival. He offers him his hand in greetings and says, "Hello, my name is Xaveak."
The man shakes his hand and says politely, "Greetings. Are you the host of this meeting?"
"No, I am not." replies the halfling.
"Oh. Well, please make sure your hands don't wander to where they don't belong, my friend."
Xaveak looks offended for a second, but then shrugs and returns to his seat.
Before Talindra can ask for the man's name, an attractive middle-aged woman of Varisian decent, wearing a colorful head scarf over her long dark hair, enters the room just behind him. Her blouse and skirt match the vibrant colors of her scarf.
"Greetings my friends," she says in a warm and soothing voice. "My name is Zellara. I'm glad that you have come. Please sit so I can explain why I asked all of you to be here." She motions her guests to the chairs surrounding the table.
Everyone takes a seat, except for Strum who continues to stand in the corner.
"I prefer to stand," he says suspiciously.
"As you wish," Zellara responds. She then pulls out a Harrow deck from her pocket and idly shuffles the cards with great skill, making it appear as if the cards float and dance over her hands. She starts to speak in a soft, but serious tone. "Thank you for coming, my friends, and for putting up with my unconventional method of contacting you. I have reason to remain hidden. You see, a terrible man would see great harm done to me if he knew I was reaching out for help. This is a man you know, for he has done something terrible to each of you as well. I speak, of course, of Gaedren Lamm, a man whose cruelty and capacity to destroy the lives of those he touches are matched only by his gift for avoiding reprisal. You see, a year ago, his thieves stole this from me." She looks down at her Harrow deck. "It is important to me, an heirloom passed down through a dozen generations, and also my sole means of support. When pickpockets stole it, my son, Eran, tracked them down. The thieves were in the employ of Gaedren Lamm, and in reward for finding them, Gaedren murdered my son. (1)"
Xaveak gasps.
Zellara looks back up and continues. "I sought help from the Guard, but they turned me away. And so I asked around. I paid bribes. I consulted my Harrow deck for advice. And recently, I was rewarded. I found out where Gaedren dwells. He can be found in an old fishery north of here at Westpier 17, where he trains his abducted children to be pickpockets and counts his stolen treasures.
"And now, I need your help. I cannot hope to face this man on my own, and the Guard moves so slowly that if I were to go to them, Gaedren would certainly know of their coming well in advance. Even if they did arrest him, what guarantee would I have he would be punished? This criminal has evaded the law for decades. But you know of these frustrations as well, for word on the street has it that Gaedren has wronged each of you too. So there we are. It is time for him to pay? (1)"
"I agree," says Strum fervidly. "I say we go to the fishery tonight and kill that bastard before he slips away!"
"We cannot act like a bunch of vigilantes and just murder him. That is not right," responds Talindra.
"It won't be murder if the old man puts up a fight," the warrior retorts with a grin.
I'm starting not to like this man.
She gives him a frown in return. "We cannot murder him," she says adamantly.
"We need to bring him to justice though," interrupts the hooded man. "However, if he attacks us, then we are allowed to defend ourselves. I suggest we investigate the old fishery as soon as possible. I also suggest that Zellara should stay here for her own safety in case Gaedren eludes us."
"Do we plan to go to there tonight or tomorrow?" asks Talindra.
"We should go right now and use the cover of darkness to our advantage."
"I agree," says Strum.
"Me too," adds Xaveak.
I sense that Zellara's other guests want to dispense their own brand of justice on Gaedren instead of bringing him to the Guard. And, they are so eager to help her without question. Aren't we rushing things a bit since we truly don't know why she chose us to help her? Gaedren has wronged many people over the years. I hope I'm not aligning myself with people I shouldn't. But for now, I will see where this leads me. I would really like to see Gaedren brought to trial and spend the rest of his life rotting in jail!
"If that is what everyone thinks is best, I am in agreement as well," says Talindra.
A slight smile appears across Zellara's face. "Before you go, let me give you a Harrow reading to see what your future holds."
Xaveak claps his hands together in excitement. "Ah, this will be fun! I always wanted to know my future!"
Just as the halfling finishes speaking, Strum leaves the protection of his shadowy corner and stands quietly behind the last open chair at the table with his eyes fixed on the cards that Zellara is shuffling. Just like Xaveak, he also appears to be extremely interested as to what the Harrow cards may reveal.
Talindra, on the other hand, is a bit skeptical about Harrow readings. She has never had one done because she never felt it was necessary. If anyone is going to reveal what the future holds for her, it will be her goddess Sarenrae, not a Harrow reader. Her faith will guide her path in life, not a deck of cards! Her eyebrows furl and her cheeks start to blush to the thought, but she quickly regains her composure before anyone notices.
Relax Tal. There is no reason to get angry over something as trivial as a card reading, especially when you were invited to the home of the person who is performing it. That would be bad manners on my part.
She focuses her attention back on Zellara and the other people gathered around the table.
Zellara shuffles her Harrow deck one last time and then draws nine cards that she lays face-up on the table in front of her in three rows of three for everyone to see. The cards look like they have been used for numerous readings for their colors are faded and their corners worn. Each one shows an allegory of a figure, object, or situation with a 2 or 3 word caption written in white letters across its bottom describing the scene. However, its true meaning can only be interpreted by an experienced Harrow reader.
Talindra stares at the cards lying before her with a puzzled expression. She has no idea in what they are trying to convey to her, and by the expressions of Zellara's other guests, they appear to be just as perplexed as her.
Xaveak points to one of the cards and blurts out with a chuckle, "That one has a bear wearing a party hat and a tutu! I wonder if that means we are all going to become bear trainers. That would be exciting!"
The halfling's outburst gets incredulous looks Strum and Talindra.
"I don't think so, my friend," responds the hooded man tactfully. "Be respectful and let Zellara do her reading without any more interruptions."
"Sorry," whispers Xaveak apologetically.
Zellara gives the halfling a quick, friendly smile before returning her gaze back to the cards lying on the table. She takes her right hand and slowly glides it over each card in a north-to-south, S-like motion, pausing at each one for a brief moment before moving on to the next. Her eyes become glossy as they follow the movement of her hand. Once her hand finishes hovering over the last card, she closes her eyes and places both of her hands on the table in front of her with the palms down, forming a triangle with her index fingers and thumbs. She remains silent for a few moments as if lost in thought, and then suddenly speaks in a low unnatural voice as if she was possessed.
"I see a city enveloped in flames and chaos," she says loudly. She pauses. "I see you standing up to the evil that follows." She pauses again. "I see you becoming heroes of Korvosa."
With that said she leans back in her chair and moves her hands so they rest in her lap. She takes a deep breath and then opens her eyes. The glossy tint they once had a couple of moments ago is now gone.
"That is all the cards will tell me," she says softly. Her voice has return back to normal as well.
Zellara's guests look at each other as if trying to read each other's thoughts about what just happened until Xaveak speaks up.
"I will become a hero of Korvosa? That would be exciting! I always wanted to be a hero," he says dreamily as if envisioning what it would be like to be one.
A hero of Korvosa? Why would they say that? I'm definitely not a hero! This has got to be a joke. By the Endless Abyss, why am I even thinking that these cards are really telling me my future?
Talindra continues to wrestle with the thought about becoming a hero in her mind.
"Bah," Strum says in disbelief. "Sounds like rubbish to me. How do we become heroes?"
"The cards only said that you will," responds Zellara. "Not how."
"How convenient"
"Well, I want to be a hero," interjects Xaveak.
"You're too short to be one," Strum says sarcastically.
The halfling gives him a dirty look. "No, I am not!"
The warrior ignores his response.
Talindra looks over to the hooded man to try to gauge his reaction to the reading, but with his hood hiding most of his face it is nearly impossible.
I wonder what his thoughts are about the reading. Does he believe in any of it?
"Well, enough chitchat," says Strum impatiently. "Let's get moving and take care of Gaedren before the night is over."
"Yes, let's go" says the hooded man as he stands up and starts heading to the front door, followed by Strum.
Excuse me! Aren't we going to talk about the Harrow reading and how it may affect our lives? That's assuming what it revealed to us is true.
Xaveak hops out of his chair and files behind the two men.
Oh well, I guess it not important enough to these guys. They are too preoccupied with killing Gaedren.
Talindra rolls her eyes while shaking her head slightly before standing up to follow everyone, but no one seems to notice.
Zellara leads her guests to the front door and wishes them luck as they say their goodbyes to her. She watches as they walk away together in the direction of the old fishery. When they are out of sight, she whispers quietly to herself, "Justice will be served tonight."
-----CoCT - CW-----
A half-moon shines brightly above, illuminating the city with its soft white glow. It hangs low in the cloudless sky indicating that the night is still young. Light emanates from tall oil-burning lampposts that line the cobbled streets making it easier for people to find their way around the city as well as to help reduce crime. Traffic on the streets at this time of night is light. Besides the occasional Guard patrol, the majority of people that are out are either going to a tavern or returning home from one.
The breeze that was blowing earlier in the day has now become cooler with the absence of the sun. Talindra shivers a bit every time a strong gust blows around her, forcing her to rub her arms to warm herself up.
Damn, I should have worn a heavier shirt under my armor. Then again, I didn't know I was going to go to some old abandoned fishery tonight to try to capture Gaedren.
The four strangers walk in silence as Strum leads the way to Gaedren's hideout. The only conversation between them is Strum telling them which streets they are taking to the Westpier docks as they near them.
When they are almost to their destination, the hooded man moves closer to Talindra and walks besides her, which causes her to look at him.
"Excuse me," he says politely. "May I ask you a question?"
"Sure," she responds.
"Is that the symbol of Sarenrae that you wear around your neck?"
"Yes, it is," she says as she holds it still between her thumb and index finger so the man can get a better look at it.
"Ah, I thought so. Isn't she the Goddess of the sun and healing?"
"And, the Goddess of redemption and honesty," she adds.
He nods. "So you never tell a lie?"
Talindra blushes. "Well, honesty is one of my faith's virtues and I do my best to honor that," she says sincerely.
"Honoring one's word is important."
"Yes, it is. May I ask you a question in return?"
He nods his approval.
"Who do you place your faith in?"
After a short pause, he says, "Shelyn."
Excellent choice. Well, next to Sarenrae of course!
Talindra gives him a smile. "The Goddess of beauty, art, love, and music. Are you a patron of the arts?"
"You can say that."
"We are here," interrupts Strum in a hushed voice. "The old fishery that Zellara was talking about lies at the end of this street."