Curse of the Crimson Throne

Reptilian feeding habits

Gaedren should have died. Gaedren would have died, if it were up to me. It would have been completely within the confines of the law, and by Abadar, it would have been the right thing. Instead it was me holding my own guts from spilling out and the blood loss threatening to extinguish my life. Shakro, the big half-Orc, stopped me from impaling Gaedren against the wall. He then used his healing on my wounds. I guess he saved two lives that day. Unlike Terrace, that funny little man, who seemed fascinated with the effects a crocodile bite will have on a half-elf torso, and seemed disappointed when Shakro saved my life.

This is not how I expected my day to go when I heard the knock on my door. Opened to see a figure scurrying away. I was about to give chase when I saw a Harrow deck card on my doorstep. I picked it up and examined it. It appeared the list of Gaedrens victims was growing, and now someone wanted to do something about it. Good. As if I needed one more excuse to bring Gaedren to justice.

I followed the instructions on the card, and made my way to 3 Lancet Street at sundown. That’s where I first met Shakro and Terrace. They too had been invited by Zellara, our hostess, in her search of retribution. Zellara was a fortune teller, and saw in the cards good fortunes for us. We strode off with confidence.

We followed her instructions to where she told us Gaedren was holed up at the moment, a dilapidated building by the canal. After considering our options, we concluded that there was no better choice than go in the front door, Shakro yelling the secret code so that Gaedrens Lamms would scramble, and we would proceed to apprehend Gaedren. This is why I like strategies better than plans. Plans never go as they are meant. As soon as we opened the door, I was forced to hit a massive dog in the head with the flat of my blade. Fortunately that knocked it out. Then I got shot with a crossbow by a tiny, screeching man who would not put down his weapon, while Shakro scuffled with a terrifying orc named ‘Giggles’; old acquaintances, it seemed. That was the moment I lost sight of Terrace.

I used the pommel of my blade to knock the pest out, and I secured his hand and feet with some spare leather strips I carried with me. Giggles did not seem to fare any better. I do believe Shakro killed him. I did not stop to check, as I ran to the back of the building, down a flight of steps, and jumped down a hole into the water below, to where screams were originating. Things had been going well up until that point.

A small girl shot past me and into the building, and I ran after her. Could not see her once I was inside, but I did see Gaedren standing menacingly in a corner, crossbow in hand. I could hear Shakro behind me. Gaedren would have no choice but to surrender. I knew him for a coward, he would attempt to escape, but I was sure that the two of us would be able to prevent that.

What I did not expect was a giant crocodile jumping out of the water and choosing me for a late evening snack. I don’t think I had ever felt so much pain. I brought down my sword on its head, and that seemed to hurt it, but its thick hide prevented it from going too deep and killing it. Nature can be so infuriating sometimes.

Everything after that was a blur. The world turned red as I slowly made my way towards Gaedren with nothing but death in my mind. I could smell it in the air. I managed to slash him severely, and my next blow would surely have finished the job, if not for Shakro interfering and

knocking Gaedren out.

I collapsed as well.

The world slowly came back as Terrace fawned over my wounds and Shakro healed me. The stench of death persisted. I thought it was all in my head, but something was amiss. Shakily, I got on my feet. There was a locked box in the corner of the room, where the stench was stronger. I fidgeted with the lock for a moment, and managed to open the container without much trouble.

I stepped back as Terrace picked up a bundled package inside.

A package with Zellaras severed head.


Shimon Shimon