Curse Of The Crimson Throne Pathfinder

On the trail of a crimelord

Listening is the most efficient way to find someone

Sitting in what is becoming my 'usual' place in Jeggy's Jug, slowly drinking my mug of Baslwief Brown ale, from my own mug of course. I have been asking people for days now where I can find Gaedren, but no one seems to know or care about what he is doing to the children.

Some of the merchants I have spoken to have told me about some others also looking for Gaedren, and some of them looked quite rough. I should take care if I come to the attention of any of these others.

Looking across the room I can see and hear much of the gossip so I might as well finish this depressing Sunday with a good ale and warmth of the fire. Stopping by for the usual small service at the ruined temple of Aroden today I was informed by the clerics that the city is trying to have it all knocked down. It is always a great shame to destroy any part of our history, especially that which looked after its citizens.

Glancing down at my mug and picking it up. "Anyway, to Cayden, do good, enjoy life and stand up for what you believe in." Tomorrow is another chance to find Gaedren.

Comments

The trail is going nowhere. Even though I see the ‘little lamms’ running through from time to time, no one seems to want to tell me where Gaedren is. I haven’t the heart to hurt people just for information, but I feel this may change.

I have lost my job at the Bards End putting on shows due to my appearance and bothering the customers about Lamm. Lets face it my once proud robes are tattered and filth stained along the hem and cuffs. I haven’t washed properly for days now and been forced to eat rabbits that I killed with my sling.

No longer able to pay for lodging I have been living rough in the North Point and earning some food by working at one of the largest orphanages, Mainshore, while trying to uncover any lead whatsoever.

On the positive side I have had plenty of time to watch the cities cats, rats and bats go about their daily routines. This makes me wonder at what point I will become like them, surviving from day to day in this wild city with its corrupt protectors.

[After an hour of depressed silence Bamil feels an anger rising and burning inside of him]

This is not where my life ends, an accused murderer starving in the slums near an orphanage. I am a master of the arcane fires and divine lore, it is time that I turn up the heat in my search for this crimelord known as Gaedren. My father always used to say that a good walk always brought some pain with well-earned blisters, otherwise you are only strolling.

It is time to start my good walk.

On the trail of a crimelord
 

As the morning sun spreads its light across Korvosa you see a small figure on the shingle roof of the orphanage mixing compounds and making notes whenever a flash of fire or smoke bursts from the workbench made from crates.

The once proud Acadamae robes, fading red and spattered with unknown stains has a new rabbit fur mantle added since last week. A large bruise swelling over his cheek is gingerly touched now and again with a hand that has yellowed blisters all over it.

Thinking back to the other evening while searching the old docks and my questioning of two local layabouts. I had given up on being polite now and just demanded people tell me where Gaedren can be found. Instead of responding they just picked me up roughly and dumped me into the nearest animal slop trough.

Climbing out wiping away rotten carrots and whatever that green thing was, I felt a rough leather glove grab me from behind. With practiced ease the two men, Korvosan Guards on patrol I assume due to their tabards, dragged me into a nearby alley which suddenly became vacant of people.

They had pushed me into the mud and all I could see was their red and black uniforms and capable steel weapons, that they eagerly wanted to use. One guard spat “See here runt, keep your hairy nose out of the Lamm’s business here, or you will be going for a long swim in the river!”

I felt a calmness wash over me as I understood what I had to do. In this brief instance my life flashed in front of me. Forced to study with devils and evil wizards, tyrannical laws that accept oppression of the poor and vulnerable, like the orphans I see everyday. Nothing will change unless I stand up for what I believe in.

Standing up to my full height of 3 feet, covered in mud, and looking straight at the guards, “I have the right to ask about town to find a criminal surely.”

It was at this point that the nearest guard, kneed me in the face before I could even finish, “And, we have the right to do this to you for being a mug.” The sneers and look that passed between both signalled danger, even to a scholar like me, as I saw weapons being drawn.

They were going to kill me right there in view of the main street during daylight. Pinching some sulphur from my pouch and thrusting my hands forward while drawing on the arcane energy from the alley, I sent leaping flames swirling over both guards setting their hair and tabards on fire. Their flesh had blackened instantly as the bodies clumped to the muddy ground still burning. The heat had killed them almost outright and I wasn’t feeling kind enough to try and keep them alive.

Without rational thought I tried to grab a money pouch of a fiery body and was burnt for my imprudence. Nothing like hot copper coins on a burning body to make you think twice about theft.

Focusing my thoughts on the achemical works in front of me, I could see that it may be possible to create enhanced alchemists fire if I use some of the rendered animal fat mixed just right with iron shavings from the Ironwork scrap heap.

If I am to stand up for the vulnerable and free citizens from tyranny I will need bigger fire bombs than what can be bought from these merchants.

The rest of the day is spent studying the arcane texts and visiting all the temples in search of the right methods to create powerful mixtures. I vow that Geadren will burn for what he represents in this city.

On the trail of a crimelord
 

Watching the sun rise from my rooftop squat I feel the wind and warmth infuse my body with hints of untold power. Sitting with knees folded under my body I draw my mind through the familiar arcane rituals of binding the energy of magic into my evocations.

I feel my bodily functions slow as hours go past and my thoughts drive towards finding a way to harness the power of winds and the sun into my spells. There must be a way to use all the energies together, natural, arcane and divine. The religious texts all hint that it has been done before during ancient civilisations.

I think back on the days spent watching people move about the markets and petty crime that occurs when they think no one is watching. They go about their actions without seeing the corruption and sickness they propagate in the city. I felt ashamed at first that I used my magical orisons to steal food and supplies for my alchemical works, but that has long past now. It is easy to not to be noticed when you look like I do now, fresh bread here and lamp oil there, is easy when invisible hands move at your will.

I see the world doesn’t care about such things as ownership or justice, just that might makes right when people are involved. I still want justice for being accused, but now I want it because I want to prove that I am better than Gaedren and others like him.

Stretching out my legs some time later I realised that I had stopped breathing some time ago and never noticed. Breathing in I can taste the energy in the air all around me, teasing me with my inability to reach it.

Opening my spellbook on the stack of crates, opening to the theories of burning hands spell, I turn my focus back to creating a powerful alchemist fire compound.

Scratching at my new beard I push a couple of cockroaches off the pages and take a bite from a stolen orange letting the juices stain my old Acadamae robes. When I find Gaedren I will be ready to wipe him from this world in the same manner of cockroaches.

On the trail of a crimelord
 

Sitting with a full belly and sated thirst on the ground outside the Thee Rings Tavern, people are walking past without even noticing me. I have finally become so unremarkable that I am invisible to them.

If it wasn’t for Theandra, the owner of this tavern, I wouldn’t have eaten this week. She finds my talent in pest control valuable and pays in food and some pinch to cover my needs. A color spray spell to stun the stirges, rats and stray cats is without mess, just the way she likes it. We see the world alike I think.

Handing my last piece of sausage to the two brown rats curled near my leg they seem content as well. “Well little fellows, see you in a day or so, and we will get fed again heh?”

Standing up I head over the Grand Cathedral to visit my old friend Avani Bromathan, who works as a midwife for the temple. I haven’t seen him since my early years when he taught me so much about how to survive in a hostile world. Few would understand my life before the Acadamae and he will be able to help me locate other adventurers to find this Gaedren soon.

I touch the silver scarab beetle hanging from my necklace as I remember back over the decade to his teachings on skeletons and necromancers. “Soon I will end this corruption staining this city.”

On the trail of a crimelord
Roondari_Zarrickson

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