Sheila responds...

Shiela gazes intently at Alejandro as he recounts the group’s activities, but does not react to any of it. She asks a few questions of clarification, first of Alejandro, then each of the assembly save one. Her eye falls briefly on Krangk and she opens her mouth to say something, but then stops, shaking her head and scowling. After a few seconds of silence, she purses her lips and pauses, then turns over her shoulder.

“Do you agree with all of that?” she murmurs.

A whispered response from her elbow is barely audible, and Sheila grimaces in obvious annoyance. “Out loud, girl! I don’t care if they see you,” Shiela snaps. She flicks a wrist in a brief arcane gesture, and Natalya appears behind her left shoulder. Natalya appears better rested, groomed and nourished since you last saw her, but has obviously been crying.

“Well?” Shiela again demands, not even looking at Natalya.

“As far as I know, that’s all true.” Natalya says softly. She glances up to quizzical faces, and sees mixtures of concern, pity and loathing. Her expression changes instantaneously, and she deftly wipes away tears and flashes a brilliant smile. “Sadly, it seems you let the leader get away," she says. "I’m afraid I’ll be keeping my boots. But at least Ayala won’t be pushing the rest of the girls around after me. Her reputation is mud.” She grins triumphantly.

“Hmm…” Shiela nods in agreement. “Yes, so it is. But that doesn’t mean she is incapable of mischief. A lycanthrope in the city can always find friends… or make them. You all must be on guard against Ayala in the future.” She stops, noting an accusing look in the eye of several adventurers. She furrows her brow quizzically for a moment, then nods.

“Oh yes. Take no offense at my having Natalya here. I wanted her to hear this for her own benefit as much as for mine. And I didn’t want the presence of a young lady to…. Flavor the retelling of your adventures.” She smirks at Alejandro. “As if it needed more flavor.”

She rises to her feet and continues. “It seems you still have much to accomplish at the Crow. I suggest that you leave the treasures of Thassilonian make here while you return to your delve. It will give me an opportunity to study and catalog them. I may also be able to refer you to some merchants in town who will pay you for them.”

She stalks toward the door, then pauses and quickly turns back. “It seems that word of your activities is out, for good or for ill. Just make sure that your true purpose at the Crow is not known. You must find that Shard quickly… and the less competition you have for it, the better.”

She pulls a small leather bag from her waist. “I have let it be known in town that your presence at the Crow was simply to clean out a nest of thieves and collect bounties. Through a contact on the Watch, I have communicated to Leiutenant Kassedei that your failure to return prisoners was not simply bloodlust, but the fault of a lycanthrope who was imposing her will on the Tower Girls and driving them to resist against all reason. She consented to give a portion of the reward due for the capture of some of those you killed.” She tosses the bag at Uli.

“Be sure to share with your friends, Uli,” Shiela says with a smile. “I expect to see you all again soon. With news of the next Shard.”

Heidmarch Manor

After returning to their quarters in Beacon’s Point at the end of  a long day, the party received word by messenger that Venture Captain Heidmarch wanted to hear about their progress in the Crow, and had “asked” that the group come discreetly to the Manor at once. Those that attended made their  way up the Seacleft to the Alabaster District in pairs.  Two by two they arrived at Heidmarch Manor, made to wait in the foyer until the entire party had assembled.  Once everyone was present, the group was escorted to the study of the Manor.  The huge wooden table that dominates the room still bears scars from their encounter with the Pugwampis, here a dent, there a scorch mark. 

Seated at the head of the table sat Sheila Heidmarch, going through a stack of documents that lay before her.  As the party filed into the room, she looked up, silent.  Once everyone was settled, she addressed the group in a firm tone.  “Report”.

After the raid on the Crow...

Having only recently given up his Vow of Peace, the sight of the slaughter of the Tower Girls sickens Lao Che and he protests that he must leave the Crow and return to town to meditate and clear his mind. Uli, unused to strong drink, is still somewhat bleary eyed and yawning after her drinking bout with Rassimiri Jaikarko and his crew. She agrees to return to town with the monk, but again has to be convinced to return to the new quarters in Beacon’s Point rather than the manor to which she had become accustomed.
The remainder of the group decides to press on to reach the ultimate destination of Natalya’s directions: the quarters of Ayala Javeski, the leader of the Tower Girls and the place where Natalya discovered the Shard of Pride in a secret room.
Descending another set of stairs, the party enters a spear-shaped room with siccatite doors covered in fiery runes at one end. At the other end, they are ambushed by Ayala, who has fallen back to her last stronghold with her surviving Tower Girls after stationing the bulk of her followers to repel the intruders. Cornered, the Tower Girls fight to the death, but are ultimately slain by the group. In hybrid wererat form, Ayala fights fiercly, poisoning first Krangk with a handcrossbow bolt, then Alejandro with a snap of a bloodroot poisoned bladed scarf. As the party briefly withdraws to regroup, she slips into a room adjoining her bedroom, and moments later the party sees her gear next to a small hole in the wall, which leads to the shaft above the entrance alcove.

It is only with the directions that Natalya provided that the party is able to discover the very well hidden secret room in Ayala’s quarters. It was so well hidden that apparently even Ayala had not yet discovered it- Natalya explained that she only had time to snatch the shard and leave remaining treasures in the room before her fellow Tower Girls found her. Lying in the secret room is the person from whom the shard was taken- deceased. A decayed skeleton dressed in a very nice chain shirt and holding a masterwork rapier lies in the small room. A silk rope, a pouch with 250 gp and an intricate golden pendant are also on this body. (email me questions; include group as appropriate)
In the other rooms where the last vestige of the Tower Girls were slaughtered are all the treasures the Tower Girls have scavenged from the Crow. Heaped on a table are sections of wall mural, ancient coins, pieces of jewelry, gems, bits and pieces of pottery and more for eventual sale in Magnimar. It will take some time to determine the value of these ancient treasures, and the party decides to pack it up and evaluate it back in the city. The party also finds several journals on the table, written in Varisian, providing details on Ayala’s history with and plans for the Tower Girls, including her increasing frustration at Natalya’s betrayal and attempt to seize control of the group. (upon request I will provide you with these details… if you read and write Varisian).
Under the bed in Ayala’s red curtained bedroom, a small chest is found holding 87 gp and 175 sp.
The two Tower Girls who fell defending their leader each have short swords and hand crossbows, studded leather armor, a smokestick bag, a tanglefoot bag, a climber’s kit, silk rope and grappling hook, a second story harness and thieves tools.
As the party packs up the belongings of the dead Tower Girls, Garath studies the siccatite doors, and murmurs that the metal is one of the seven types of skymetal. The tiles on the doors bear the Thassilonian runes in a pattern that some of you recognize- they resemble the Paradox Box, and when two runes on one door are touched simultaneously, they magically exchange places. After a few more burns (which eventually have to be healed before Garath burns off his arms- knock of a charge from the CLW wand!!), the young wizard further discovers that runes cannot move from one door to the other. A pair of picks lays nearby, and it appears that the Tower Girls were close to giving up on solving the doors’ puzzle and attempting to crash through in the same manner as the entrance to the Crow.
There are two different sets of runes on each door. The left set spells “LISTEN” while the right spells “THE EYES.”
By the time the group has finished loading their plunder and tossing the home of the now "disbanded" Tower Girls' gang and returned to the entrance alcove, they find Olar and Lan waiting there in their fishing boat, appearing very nervous.
“The monk said you would be here,” Lan stammers, looking down quickly. “And the bloody woman said we should come get you.” Olan jumps quickly onto the shore from the boat and reaches as if to help load the group’s gear. He is careful not to make eye contact with any of you, but you see him catching sidelong glances at your bloody armor and weapons, and the gore smeared on the sacks of plunder you carry.
“Is it true?” he murmurs to Alejandro as he helps the party load the boat. “You killed all of them? Like the monk said?” (Regardless of your response, Lan and Olar help you load anything you like, and row you back to anyplace you want on the shore, then protest that they have work to do, sick children, nagging wives and several other pressing items they must return to. A sense motive check (DC 4) reveals that they just want to get out of there. They will engage in some small conversation during the row back. Email the group if you wish to chat with them.)
After returning to your quarters in Beacon’s Point, you receive word by messenger that Sheila wants to hear about your progress in the Crow, and has asked you to discreetly come to the Manor. You make your way up the Seacleft to the Shore in pairs and cloaks that cover your gear, and two by two you arrive at the Manor, bringing with you (anything you want to show to Shiela?). (We can play out this conversation by email. Shiela will ask what happened, and Natalya is there as you give your report. I’d love to hear someone’s recounting of what went on.)
After meeting at the Pathfinder Lodge, you decide to conduct some other business. As you move about the city to sell and buy loot, you walk down the Seacleft and you pass by Arvensoar, where you turned the criminal Plutivarch Dremis into Lieutenant Kasadei. A quick glance at the wall of rewards reveals several sketches of faces you recognize- a woman with the sides of her head shaved, a toothless woman with a penchant for swearing, and several more. Each was wanted for questioning or arrest in connections with burglaries of businesses, with a variety of rewards offered. Sadly, each reward offer specifies that they must be turned in alive, and those among you who are lawful, good, or even practical wonder briefly if the experience of capturing them and turning them in might have been even more rewarding than murdering them. Leiutenant Kasadei eyes you as you pass by, and no sense motive is required to see the respect, caution and distrust in her eyes. (Anyone who so desires can RP a chat with her.)
(you need to compile, appraise, claim, sell and divide the loot. Gather information checks required to find a few shops. Diplomacy checks involved to negotiate prices. Requests for specific magic items possible; method of searching for them has previously described. I will shortly be posting a list of various bargain items you run into around the city.)

Garath

I was told by Mikhail to write some of my memories of things past,

so that I will not repeat mistakes. 

IRRISEN

I was born in the village of Gara a slave to the Jadwiga.  Mostly I remember being damned cold.  And hungry.  Being just a few days east of Harvest's End allowed for some trade for foodstuffs or clothing, but nothing made its way to us that was not picked over first by Rimetusk the troll and his lackeys in Harvest's End.  Of course, after Gara was burned by the Jadwiga Elvana, we all would have been glad for those leavings.

We never realized that Mikhail’s presence had held off the worst of the witches’ ire.  Everyone else thought that he was just a grouchy old bastard.  But I knew better.  After backbreaking labors, I was sometimes able to retreat to his battered cottage and read until I passed into unconscious weariness.  Rather than living hand to mouth, broken at the end of each day, his wry humor and sharp wits gave me hope that perhaps not all of life was loss.

Sadly, his last trip away from Gara was when Igor Romanov and his merry band of bastards passed through.  Once Mikhail recovered me from the wreckage, he did not look any further for survivors.  None remained.   I will never forget the forest of torches that had once been Romanov and his party, once Mikhail caught up with them.  It might be the warmest I have ever been in that frozen hell.  Literally and figuratively.

Next he stashed me with the Blackraven Hall with the ‘ravens.  And he told me about the Heralds of Summer.

BLACKRAVEN HALL

For four years, until I was about twelve years old, I dwelt at Blackraven Hall.  I was left in the keeping of the scribes for the most part.  I pretty much had the run of the keep, from the upper towers to the beginnings of the strange chambers below.  Years later at the Acadamae I would come to learn that, much like Castle Korvosa, the Hall itself is built on the foundations of an ancient Thassilonian pyramid.  It is filled with numerous chambers and strange magical defenses and resources. 

There I also learned some basic skill at arms.  Being a scrawny, underfed former slave lent me more to the fluid quickness of the quarterstaff, compared to the bulky muscles needed to effectively employ steel.  After I proved adequate with quarter staves, the Master-at-Arms told me to pick out a stout length of wood from the armory and carve one to my liking.  There was something liberating about working wood.  After the staff, I began to work smaller projects.  Starting with simple things, I soon began to whittle a number of useful objects.  Even formed up a wand or three for Mikhail, when  I would see him, which was rare.

Crosnay Drakon they called him at the Hall.  The Red Dragon, in the southern tongue.  He would come and go like a ghost.  He’d rouse me from dead sleep to quiz me on happenings, if he happened through at night.  Ask what I had studied or learned since he had been back.  He’d also leave massive amounts of readings with the scribes to fill my hours.  Geography.  History.  Local lore.  Languages, both ancient and modern. Arcana.  And the Heralds of Summer’s Return.

For centuries, an underground resistance group known as the Heralds of Summer’s Return has fought a guerilla war of attrition against the White Witches and the unnatural winter that cloaks Irrisen. They are made up of descendants of the original Ulfen inhabitants of Irrisen and other freedom fighters. They form more of a loose brotherhood of like-minded revolutionaries than an organized movement, to better protect themselves when the White Witches’ agents inevitably unmask one of their members. The Heralds’ stated aim is to overthrow the White Witches and restore the normal course of seasons to the ice-locked land, but they have yet to prepare a viable strategy to deal with Baba Yaga if they succeed.  In hindsight, even this early learning was aimed at preparing me to come home to aid the Heralds, if that is the path I choose.  

On one of his visits, Mikhail had me bundle everything I owned, which was not much.  We were leaving for Absalom.  

On the way he told me why.

THE PATHFINDER SOCIETY

Regarding the Pathfinders, Mikhail had the following to say:

Even in a world rife with adventure and marvelous beasts, the exploits of heroes still stir hearts and inspire the masses. Those who seek moral lessons from their myths follow the deeds of Aroden, last of the first humans, who emerged from the tumult that sunk the continent of Azlant, gave culture to the people of Taldor, and reclaimed the Starstone from the depths of the Inner Sea. Those who seek excitement prefer saga heroes like Bragi Balehammer or the indefatigable Molaho Khem, whether or not these fanciful adventurers ever really existed. But those who seek to claim ancient power as their own, who seek to strengthen themselves by unwinding the secret history of the world tread the footsteps of the elusive Pathfinder Society.

Members of the Society are part archaeologist, part historian, and part foolhardy adrenaline addict. They chase rumors of treasure like miners prospect gold, and often

come out richer in the end. Their mother lodes are the crumbling ruins of ancient civilizations and the forgotten funeral chambers of centuries-dead monarchs. Such places

often boast powerful guardians or recalcitrant squatters, so the life of a Pathfinder is fraught with danger. Few die in their beds.  But those that live, they gain power.

Power.  The ability to determine my fate.  And the fate of the Jadwiga.  The Jadwiga have power; it is known.  But so did these Pathfinders.  And they were always looking for more.  They would do.

I made my way with Mikhail west to the coast, to Kalsgaard.  It was the first time I had seen a true city.  I wondered aloud that it must be the biggest city in the world.  Mikhail grunted, then slapped the back of my head.  “Never assume you have seen the biggest thing.  Or the deadliest thing.  Or the most terrifying thing.  Because then you will underestimate your enemies.  Besides, you will be in the biggest city in the world next week.”  He smirked, but then tousled my hair.  It was the last time I would see him for two years.  He put me on a ship that day to the City at the Center of the World.

Absalom stinks.  Kalsgaard had its own smell, of the sea, and fish, and huge crowds of unwashed bodies.  But it was a natural smell.  Absalom’s smell is the same, only squared upon itself.  Multiplied, layer on layer, and then doubled again.  Then mixed in with deceit.  Manipulation.  Misery.  Perhaps my sense of scent just never adjusted to it.  I pray it never does.  Every time I return to the “City at the Center of the World”  (arrogant) I have to adjust myself to it.  Maybe it’s part of the reason I have little desire to return to the Grand Lodge in Absalom.

When I presented myself at the gates of the Grand Lodge, I was armed with a letter from Mikhail.  I still have no idea what it said, but whatever it was, it served its purpose.  I was eventually shown inside, stripped of my belongings, and made a slave once more.  At least I was used to it, and it served a purpose.  Mikhail had told me that if I served them well for a period of time, they would put me in a position to seek out power, and use their resources to do it.  I spent the next two years in a bizarre mix of a servant’s duties and a scholar’s studies.  My dealings with the Jadwiga left me no stranger to menial demands.  But it was the studies that became the center of my existence.  Arcane lore.  Spellcraft.  Alchemical properties.  Religions.  History.  Strange tongues.  I met others in my time there, most unremarkable.  A young female Kitsune name Kagome was a classmate.  We shared some classes.  She seemed a bit more interested in self-indulgence than scholarship, but she seemed capable enough.  A fair shot as well.

Part of my training in the Society included a period of time at the Acadamae in Korvosa.  Their focus on conjuration magic was attractive, but I did not realize the extent of their focus on the Dark Arts of demon and devil conjuration until I had begun my studies there.  After  a year there, I had learned what I could to adapt to my own magiks and then shook the dust of their school from my feet.  Good riddance.

Shortly thereafter, I was given my first posting.  Quartermastery and basic local knowledge instruction for Venture Captain Sheila Heidmarch in the city of Magnimar.

- Garath

A Dinner Party

The evening of the day after your return to Heidmarch manor, you return to the home of Lady Laureline Landis, whose garden party you saved from a marauding garden ooze and who invited you to dinner tonight to express her gratitude. (you will have opportunity to do other things earlier in the day… we’ll most likely play that out at table). You retrace your steps south from Heidmarch Manor in the Alabaster District, heading into the Capitol District.

The home to some of Magnimar's most important buildings, the Capital District serves as the political heart of the entire city; it is sometimes referred to as the Artisan's Quarter or the Irespan District. It lies in the Summit region of Magnimar (above the cliff) and is north of the "new-money" area of the Naos. The buildings of the area are as ornate as they are important, the Usher's Hall, which sits opposite the monument known as Indros cul Vydrarch (whose magical properties you are now aware of), is home to the Council of Ushers and is the place where many of the city's most important decisions are made. Nearby stands the Pediment Building, the home of justice in Magnimar; the above ground floors are home to stern faced judges and large courtrooms, while below the ground is Magnimar's main prison, the Hells.

Most of the other areas of the Summit region of Magnimar are residential, but Bridgeward, within the Capital District of the city, is the exception: while most industry takes place in the Shore, Bridgeward is home to the most refined crafts like jewelers, sculptors and other artisans. It is also home to one of Magnimar's most rare industries, the Golemworks, which creates many types of golems for its incredibly rich customers. Bridgeward also contains the Cenotaph and the surrounding Mourner's Plaza where Magnimar's social elite are buried in the shadow of the monument to the town's founder.

Occupying a small campus just north of Usher's Hall, several grandiose structures house the histories, findings, and private collections of some of the city's most esteemed citizens. These buildings are the Founder's Archive and Museum of Ages. Across the street from the Archive and Museum you find the home of Lady Landis as you left it. Two guards are at the gate, and you recognize one as the Shoanti spearfighter who helped you subdue the ooze. The other guard is new.

The Shoanti’s face splits in a wide grin as he sees you. He salutes you formally, and says in a thickly accented, deep voice, “Welcome, friends! The Doctor and Lady Landis are expecting you!” He gestures for you to enter the gates.

Alejandro introduces himself...

Juan-Carlos Alejandro Villalobos

Primero Official de la Senorita Roja

Leaning against the bar talking to the attractive wench serving the ale, stands Juan-Carlos Alejandro Villalobos. At a height of just under 6 feet, Alejandro, as he is known to his acquaintances, is of average build. Though of a common frame, Alejandro moves w/ an uncommon grace. On his hip shines a well polished, 3 foot long, very slightly curved blade. The firelight from the sconces of the tavern reflects off of his dark brown eyes and chestnut hair. The dark tan of his face and arms suggest many days spent under the sun. His face is adorned w/ an arrogant grin of bravado that only comes with youth. As he strolls from the bar, even his gate reflects both the elegance of his latent abilities as well as the cocksure attitude of his age. He turns to grab his feathered hat from the bar, and gives the wench one last wink. With an underhand flourish, he adorns the hat and flips a copper on the bar at the same time. He looks at the other patrons of the lowly tavern and gives a small bow (even though no one has paid him any attention). He struts from The Old Fang into the salt-filled air of the Dockway.

As the only son of a fairly wealthy shipping merchant, Alejandro is quite accustomed to life in a bustling port. Most of his youth was spent sailing from one port to another. He learned at an early age that these ports were a font of information. His father (who unknownst to Alejandro was more than a mere ‘merchant’, would routinely be hired on as a privateer in the Inner Sea), taught him the value this information could garner. While aboard his father’s ship, the Senorita Roja, he was treated as an officer. At the age of 12, his father made him first mate. This title only helped reinforce his already growing ego. His father taught him how to handle a sword from a very young age, and he took to it immediately. He was allowed to “practice” against the ship hands and never lost. A feat that was partly due to his natural talents, and also partly due to the fact that there was an unspoken understanding that the deckhands were not allowed to best young Alejandro. This served to bolster his already healthy self-image to blatant arrogance. This also quashed any humility or self-awareness that might have developed from defeat.

At age 18 by the urging of his father, Alejandro enrolled in the Kithodarian Academy in Oppara. Alejandro’s father noted his sharp wit and used a few well placed connections to get him into the academy. However, Alejandro was more interested in ladies and swordplay than books and study. On more than one occasion, Alejandro’s bravado forced him into confrontations with other students. He bested many challengers, and in those situations where things didn’t go his way, there was always a reason. Be it the uneven footing of a gravel road or the unfortunate angle of the sun, there were always excuses to justify defeat. Not having the emotional balance to handle these setbacks, Alejandro quickly felt out of place at the Academy. Convincing himself that he didn’t need what it had to offer, he decided that college life wasn’t the direction he wanted to go. But while there, he heard of two very important things. One, he heard songs and tales of the famed Aldori Swordlords of Brevoy. Already considering himself a very gifted swordsman, he decided to learn as much as possible about these famed dueling swords. He spent what money he had left to purchase an actual dueling sword from a merchant shop in Oppara. He also heard of the tales of the Pathfinders and the riches that could be won as an adventurer. Hearing of the treasures that were being found in the mysterious land of Varisia, Alejandro decided to set his sails to the west. So he left the college, and used the knowledge he learned as a child to get hired as a mate on a merchant ship heading for Riddleport. Once there, he spent his days in the docks doing odds and ends. Although these small tasks would pay for the board and ale, he wanted to really make a name for himself. There was a buzz in the seaside of Riddleport that a newly minted Pathfinder lodge had been set up in Magnimar. Seeing opportunity both for fame and wealth, Alejandro left Riddleport to join up with the Pathfinders in Magnimar.

An invitation to Adventure...

Kagome introduces herself...

Gentlemen, Gentlemen, please...

We all are quite excited to begin this trip. I know that Shelia is very excited about the expedition that we have been chosen for, or at least that is what her husband keeps telling me. The man simply needs to learn to keep his hands to himself. For now, knowing the history of the rune lord and the glutony and lust that they produced I desire nothing more than to dive deep into their world and simply bathe in their brilliance. This fine, yet very boastful man, Guapee over here seems to wish to join us and we can all use a tad bit of buffonery to keep us warm and jovial at night. I simply hope you all know that I expect you each to push me to my breaking point, and I promise you that the toys and skills I have prepared for our adventure will Wow each and every one of you, well except that Uli chick who lives out in the barn..... I keep attempting to express to her how terrible she smells and she simply won't listen, but as Shelia's husband keeps telling me, "she is special".... no shit..

Enough of my rambling; although I am so grateful that you all kept your eyes transfixed upon me... we are only days away from the greatest adventure of our lives, and I for one am so excited I could explode...

On a secondary note, I think it is improtant to discuss our future together. I for one would be happy to swing both ways... I'm just saying, the thought of role playing as a different person every few months is something that really brings my level of excitement to heights I did not know could be reached. The more we get to play together the more excited I become. Whatever this fantastic group decides I will back with my whole being. I recongize the struggle and complexity of running a large campaign alone. Whether we swing between two different paths, decide upon a single path and switch betwen people to take control of the situation, or dive into random dungeons at our leisure I will be happy. But I would hope we can all put aside the future for just one day, and live in the moment while I, Kagome, give myself completely to my fellow adventurers. We will build levels of trust that will shatter the star...

~Kagome...

A brief introduction to Magnimar:

On the western edge of the land of Varisia, along the southern reaches of a beautiful stretch known as the Lost Coast, the swampy expanse of the Mushfens and the coiling length of the Yondabakari River come to a stark and dramatic end in the shadow of a striking limestone escarpment jutting from the cliffs. Varisian legends have long regarded the place as a blessed resting spot for celestial messengers, and the wanderers would often visit in hopes of seeing an angel and gaining the good fortune such a portent presaged. Yet the upthrust mass of stone itself is overshadowed by an even greater sight—the Irespan, one of ancient Thassilon’s most prominent ruins. Known also as the Giant’s Bridge, this ruined causeway juts out from the Seacleft nearly 400 feet, with its ruined pilings extending farther out to sea, giving the unmistakable impression of ancient grandeur. Be it the point at which angels descended from the heavens to bless their Varisian wards or the ancient site of forgotten commerce and travel, the region has long captivated the imaginations of those who beheld it. Its position at the mouth of Varisia’s mightiest river and at the southwesternmost safe harbor on the mainland only further ensured that the site would, one day, host a magnificent city. Today, that city is known as Magnimar— the City of Monuments.

Built in the shadow of megaliths, Magnimar endlessly endeavors to surpass the overwhelming scale and grandeur of the ancient wonders that litter the Varisian landscape. A place of great opportunity, social stress, and cold beauty, the city exudes the air of a southern metropolis, seeking to rise above its ignoble beginnings as a refuge for Korvosan outcasts to become a beacon of culture and freedom in an unforgiving land. Yet its towering monuments, elegant gardens, ostentatious architecture, and elaborate sculptures form but a cracked mask over a struggling government and a desperate people in need of heroes.

History:

The site had long been a favorite resting place for Varisian caravans, and at any time before Magnimar’s foundation, explorers could find numerous such caravans sheltering against the Seacleft’s walls. But by the dawn of the Age of Lost Omens, conditions in Korvosa had grown intolerable to those who did not want to live in a society many had taken to calling “Little Cheliax.” They wanted something more—a place with the comforts and conveniences of a grand city, yet free from the traditions of an overly pedantic and close-minded government. Unable to change such institutions in Korvosa, dissatisfied citizens opted instead to leave. In the shadow of the great upheavals caused by the death of Aroden, hundreds of pilgrims traveled west, helmed by four visionary adventurers led by the paladin Alcaydian Indros and known collectively as the Wardens of the Eye. After these travelers had journeyed across nearly the width of Varisia, they came to the Seacleft and knew they’d found a new home.

The integration between these Korvosan expatriates and the indigenous Varisians was not seamless, despite the fact that the settlers had left Korvosa behind in search of greater acceptance and diversity. Soon after the settlers began moving to Magnimar, the Varisians asked the foreigners to move their newly built homes south of the Yondabakari River and away from Varisian holy grounds. Freshly settled and defiant, Magnimar’s leaders all refused except for one: Mistress Ordellia Whilwren, a member of the Wardens of the Eye. Curious, Whilwren promised the Varisians that she and her followers would gladly relocate if they would show her an angel. In response, the Varisians mysteriously told her to look to the Seacleft Spire at dawn every day for a week. Whilwren did so, and on the week’s final day she saw a radiant figure perched atop the alabaster spire in the dawning sun. Awed and inspired, Whilwren kept her promise and moved south to the district now called Ordellia in her honor. Cynics whispered that all Ordellia witnessed was a cagey Varisian adorned with a magical disguise, yet Ordellia went to her grave with the happy conviction that she had seen, if not Desna herself, then one of her more powerful azata handmaidens.

Two years after the city’s founding, a great storm racked the land and threatened to destroy all the settlers had created. Through the driving storm, Ordellia Whilwren prayed to the angel of the spire. In a blinding f lash, a bolt of soundless white lightning struck the spire’s rocky perch, blasting it to nothing more than glass and rubble, but in so doing scattering the storm clouds to reveal starry skies. Having heard Whilwren’s prayers and seen the silent lightning, the townsfolk agreed to create a great tower to replace the fallen spire. As workers laid the first stones, local Varisians—seeing they now shared the same faith— joined in, and thus did the Arvensoar began to rise. Although it took more than 18 years to erect, the Arvensoar now stands as a symbol of Magnimarian-Varisian unity and an open invitation to goodly spirits.

Today:

A visitor to Magnimar might be stunned to learn that the sprawling city is only a few decades over a hundred years of age. The city’s sprawling slate rooftops and marble avenues stretch from the foundations of the Irespan to beyond the western banks of the Yondabakari River. A sheer cliff, the Seacleft, cuts through the city’s heart, dividing Magnimar into its two major sections: the Summit, upon the cliff’s top, and the Shore, below. A third area, the Shadow, lies beneath the Irespan, a place where the sun rarely reaches and the city’s failures and corruption hold blatant reign.

The second largest city in Varisia, Magnimar still wages its mostly bloodless war of coins and lies with Korvosa to the east. Both city-states vie for control over vassal communities, natural resources, and trade with the cosmopolitan south. Ever since Lady Whilren’s prayer saved the city and shattered the Seacleft Spire, Magnimar has welcomed those who would shape their own fates by the sweat of their brows and keenness of their wits, regardless of race or beliefs. To this end, the city has opened its gates and harbor to all comers, encouraging traders from many lands to discover the wonders of Varisia away from the excessive taxes and regulations of Korvosa, yet in greater safety than is offered by pirate havens like Riddleport. In an ironic turn, relations with the Shoanti steadily worsened as Magnimar grew—its leaders perhaps unintentionally fostering the same sort of classist discrimination and oppression that drove them from the east. Whatever the cause, those Shoanti who live in Magnimar are forced to lurk in the worst corners of the city, often working as gladiators in the Serpent’s Run or as aristocrats’ “tame savage” bodyguards.

Since the establishment of a formal city government in 4608 ar, Magnimar has been led by two political bodies: the Council of Ushers and the Office of the Lord- Mayor. When the city was established, this egalitarian arrangement was meant to assure that no one person would have too prominent a voice in the city-state’s governing. After more than a hundred years, though, this noble effort has become embroiled in bureaucracy, paper shuffling, and the ambitions of its members. A third political body operating outside of the city government is the Varisian Council. Formed at the request of the city’s elders more than 80 years ago, the Varisian Council ensures that the Magnimarian government does not infringe upon the rights and traditions of the land’s Varisian natives. Unfortunately for the city’s small but quite active Shoanti element, this level of understanding does not extend to them, and the people of the quahs often find themselves distrusted at best and unfairly persecuted at worst.

More than 16,000 people make their homes in Magnimar, with the majority of that populace consisting of humans of Chelish or mixed Chelish/Varisian decent. While these people are ethnically Chelaxian, they are anything but in mind and spirit—the people of Magnimar prefer to be called Magnimarians (or even just Varisians). The city also boasts the largest semi-settled population of Varisians in the region, with approximately 2,000 such residents—significantly fewer in the spring and summer travel months. Aside from the region’s native nomads, Magnimar hosts a second transient population: thousands of regular traders from far-flung foreign locales, particularly Absalom, Cheliax, and Osirion. Many of these merchants and emissaries have homes that they reside in while passing through but that otherwise remain empty. As a result, whole city blocks—particularly within the Shore—appear deserted for months out of the year.

Magnimarians show their affiliation with the City of Monuments through symbolism. Magnimar’s colors are blue and silver. The city claims the osprey as its mascot, but also identifies with angels of all types, as seen in many of the city’s carvings. The city motto is “Where Freedom Can Never Be Lost.”